These Hands

Richard & Nancy Grandquist  
Richard & Nancy Grandquist
By:  Nancy Grandquist

I was thrilled to be with my dad and mom; we were going out to lunch and taking my four-year-old granddaughter, Emma Love, with us.  I got Emma buckled up in her seatbelt and noticed Dad was struggling with his.  “Just a second, Dad, I’ll help you,” I told him.  I went around to the other side of the car, took the seatbelt out of his thin fragile hands, pulled the belt out a little bit more and snapped it into the buckle.  I made a little joke out of the fact that I finally was in charge of keeping him safe.

I found a parking place close to the door of the restaurant and parked the car.  I hurried to get out of the car so I could grab Emma by the hand.  She was out of the car in a flash!  I looked at my dad who was still struggling with the car door, went to him, helped him slowly get out of the car, closed his door and took his hand in mine.  As we walked hand in hand toward the restaurant, I was overwhelmed with the significance of these hands clinging to mine -- one so warm, so small squeezing my fingers tightly; the other weak, trembling, so stiff and cold.  My Dad’s hands once so strong, able to swing steel-headed hammers building homes and structures that could and have withstood some pretty intense earthquakes and mudslides.  Those hands that could fix anything that was broken and seemingly beyond repair, would take on the challenge and fix whatever, often better than it was before.  Now, I feel his hand tremble in mine, as his steps seem unsure over the rubber mat threshold that leads into the restaurant.  I get a better grip on his hand.  “It’s okay, Dad, I gotcha.”

On the other side of me, Emma Love is pulling me impatiently, tenaciously on toward the door.  This is one of those bittersweet moments in life, and all I know is that I want to hold on as long as I can and cherish each moment.  I tenderly kiss these precious hands, remembering my dad’s hands that have held mine for all of my life, keeping me, leading me, comforting me.  And so I hold on tighter to this little girl’s hands that foretell the promise of life and all its gifts.  Someday her sure and steady hands will hold mine, to help me, comfort me, to gently lead me and keep me safe.

I know that I need my Lord to lead me over and through life’s challenges and difficult places.  So I ask Him, my heavenly Father, to take my hand and hold on to me and not let go until I make it to that Promised Land.  “Let me take your hand, let me understand it’s forever, then lead me, gently lead me to my Promise Land. (Written 1972, Nancy Grandquist.)

Nancy Grandquist, renowned singer and writer, is well loved across the nation for her unique style of ministry.  She and her husband, Richard, pastor the Rock Church in Sunnyvale, CA.  She spends as much time as possible enjoying her four children and ten beautiful grandchildren.



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