April 06, 2016


Hands were nearly my undoing this week. I've had the joy and privilege to help out at Hannibal-LaGrange University and do make up for their production of Fiddler on the Roof. I love theatre and I love helping in any way I can. I look forward to every time I get to help there at the University.

I knew this time would be a little different. Tomorrow will be four weeks since Kevin passed away, so emotions and blood pressure and anxiety are high. I am always emotional when I'm in a theatre, it's just my home and I love it (and wish I was better at every aspect of it!) But, I knew there would be added emotions. I did my best to prepare for it and tell myself that tears are OK, even if all the college kids think I am a crazy old lady.

I actually did really well. It was fun chatting with all the students (I only know a few of them, so I met a lot of new students.) And then I started doing old age make up on one of the students. And I had to age his hands. I reached out and took his hands to make them look old and I was transported back to the morning Kevin died.

I was holding his hand when they turned off all the machines and pronounced him dead. That was the last time I held his hand. I so enjoyed holding his hand. He hated his hands. He felt they look old. Older than his 33 years. He'd had to take medicine when he was younger and he wasn't supposed to let his hands be exposed to sun. Unfortunately he wasn't fully aware of that and his hands were exposed to some sun. As a result, his hands did look older and more worn than his years should require.

But, I loved his hands. Those hands played some of the most beautiful music my ears have ever heard. Worship music. Fun music. Silly music. Loud music. Quiet music. Beautiful melodies and solos. His hands flew across any guitar he picked up and transformed it into something glorious. If there are guitars in heaven, I can't wait to hear the music he's playing for his Savior.

Those hands worked hard. Kevin never wanted to be handed anything. He wanted to earn it. Many times he earned it by working hard with those hands he felt so ashamed of every time he looked at them. Those hands held hammers, drills, saws, carried ladders, installed cameras. Those hands worked hard to provide food and shelter for our family. I loved those hands.

Those hands loved this family. He lovingly held our children, played with my hair, stroked my face, and loving put his children to bed. Those hands wiped many tears from my face over the last 15 years. They changed diapers, brushed hair, and held sick children. I loved those hands.

Lord, thank You for memories, even when they're hard. They are reminders that You love us and lavish us with good things. Thank you for Kevin's hands. Hands that so lovingly cared for us and everyone he met. Thank You that he used his hands to serve you and draw many to you. Thank you for the sweet reminder of those hands this week while doing something I love so much. Father, teach the kids and I to use our hands for Your glory. At all times. In all things.

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