Remember When We Used to Shake Hands

 The other day I studied my hands.  Gone were the callouses from hard work.  I remember using fingernail clips and scissors to trim the callouses.  Sometimes the callouses would crack open and become sore.  At times, my hands would be so rough that I could not rub my hands across fine linen without snagging the material.  Loading paperwood, using wrenches, and handing hoes, picks, and shovels make callouses.

Gone are oil and grease stains.  My hands were always in something greasy or in burnt motor oil.  Growing up poor, my daddy, brothers, and I did a lot of repair to worn out and broke down equipment.  Burnt motor oil and dirty grease are two of the hardest things to clean off your hands.  Grease and oil under the fingernails will stain the nails.  An old friend taught me to scrape hand soap under my nails before working in grease and oil prevents stains.  Clean oil and WD 40 will also help clean-burnt oil and nasty grease.

Gone from my hands were the stains and smells of “hawg killin’.”  Pigs love nasty.  Scaldin’ and pullin’ hair on a 300lb nasty pig will stain your hands.  I had to wear off the smell and the stain.

Gone are the splinters, the black fingernails, cuts, and scrapes.  I have had some booger splinters.  I had one go deep under a fingernail.  Momma had to cut the nail deep into the “quick,” almost the whole nail, just to use tweezers to pull it out from under the nail.  I remember pulling the nail off my middle finger when I shut it in the front door.  My hands have been so sore that it hurt to use them.

That’s enough about my hands.  Before COVID -19, I would shake a lot of hands and I take notice of the hands I hold.  Hands reflect the person.  I noticed the calloused hands of a lady the other day.  It had been a long time since I felt a female hand that calloused.  I knew the lady worked hard with her hands.

I notice that many of my colleagues in the full-time ministry have soft hands.  They tend to be very protective, especially now, of their hands and have a flimsy shake.  I think to myself, oooh.  I noticed back then that some of these soft-handed colleagues had small bottled hand sanitizers and cleanse their hands after shaking hands.  I know that today that COVID must be driving them bonkers.  Sometimes I wish that these colleagues would have a clinic on hand sanitation for some of the folks in fast food restaurants business.

Most folks have firm handshakes.  Every once in a while, I get a fellow that wants to show me how strong he is and how weak I am.  You know the one that squeezes your hand where your fingers twist together and if you are wearing a ring, the impression of the ring lingers on the finger for a while.  A doctor friend showed me how to prevent “My hand is a vice, you wimp” technique.

I try not to hurt the hands of people when shaking.  Arthritis has crippled some hands.  Some hands are small and tender.

As I examined my hands I thought of the song, Daddy’s Hands, Holly Dunn recorded.

    

I remember Daddy’s hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy’s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I’ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I’ll always remember the love in Daddy’s hands.

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy’s hands, were hard as steel when I’d done wrong.
Daddy’s hands, weren’t always gentle
But I’ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy’s hands.

I remember Daddy’s hands, working 'til they bled.
Sacrificed unselfishly, just to keep us all fed.
If I could do things over, I’d live my life again.
And never take for granted the love in Daddy’s hands.

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy’s hands, were hard as steel when I’d done wrong.
Daddy’s hands, weren’t always gentle
But I’ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy’s hands.

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy’s hands, were hard as steel when I’d done wrong.
Daddy’s hands, weren’t always gentle
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love...
In Daddy’s hands.

 

I think of my daddy’s hands when I hear this song.  His hands were big and strong.  I also think of Jesus’ hands.  I have to believe that his hands were calloused and scared from years of carpentry.  I wonder what the Roman soldier thought as he nailed Jesus’ hands to the cross.  I am sure it was not the same as those that Jesus touched.

Now when the sun was setting, all they that had any sick with divers diseases brought them unto him; and he laid his hands on every one of them, and healed them (Luke 4:40 KJV).

Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he was come from God, and went to God. . . (John 13:3 KJV).

"Daddy's Hands"

One afternoon, thunderstorms surrounded Linden as I started a fire to do some grilling.  I love the sound of rolling thunder and the awesome beauty of lightning.  It is a pungent display of what I imagine as minute exhibition of God’s heavenly power.  I always imagine Moses on Mt Hebron when I see those vigorous clouds churning in the heavens above.  I also think of the Second Coming of our Lord.

As the lightning grew intense, I realized that just about the time that the fire was perfect for grilling,  I might become a lightning rod and I would be grilled.  A grill underneath big oak trees is not the ideal place to be when lightning is imminent.

The ground trembled as lighting created a brilliant streak just beyond Linden Baptist.  It was spectacular.  The next day, my neighbor said he saw the same flash of lightning.  He said the lightning hit with a burst of fire and smoke.

Suddenly, there was a loud clap of thunder and the rain started to fall.  I told my son Aaron to get a couple of umbrellas and to bring the meat.  I covered the bed of coals and the meat with a piece of tin as the rain intensified.  Lightning continued to dance around Linden.  I told Aaron that he might need to go inside and out of the lightning.  I told him it would be better if the newspaper read “MAN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING,” rather than “FATHER AND SON STRUCK BY LIGHTNING.”  He worried more about objects falling from the tree on the meat than lightning striking us.

As the lightning subsided, the rain got harder.  I told Aaron that it reminded me of the night my dad and I set a pole for an electrical service for a house I was about to build. 

To have an electrical power source for contractors, the power company required that I have an electrical box with a disconnect switch mounted on plywood on a pole.  My dad told me he would help me put it up when we got in from work.  We did not know when we started that there would be a thunderstorm while we were setting the pole.

We had just tamped the pole into place when the thunderstorm erupted.  Lightning was popping in the area and the rain started to fall.  People who are experts, you know how experts are; remind us if one can hear thunder, one can be hit by lightning.  Well, the thunder was pretty loud and close.  Just about the time daddy started screwing the electrical control box on the plywood, it started to rain harder.  I can still see daddy’s big hands holding the screwdriver and twisting the screws in the back of the box into the plywood.  As usual, I was holding something for daddy.  This usually meant that he would say, “Hold it still son.”  I had to hold it still regardless of how uncomfortable, awkward, cold, or hot the object or I were.  I miss those days with dad, but relive them with Aaron.  Now, Aaron holds for me although sometimes I hold for Aaron.  He is so much like dad, a man whom he has never met.

Bad weather terrified momma, but bad weather did not bother daddy.  Daddy taught us to respect the weather, but never to fear it.  Daddy loved to hear the thunder and see the lightning.  He reminded us that it was a sign of how powerful God is.  He would say when God got ready for you, it did not matter where you were or what you were doing, it was your time.  Momma agreed, but reminded him not to tempt the Lord and that God gave him enough sense to take cover when it stormed.  So, when it stormed, momma went to hide and daddy and the boys went outside to watch.

I think we were all anticipating the Lord wiping back the thunderstorms and opening a beautiful blue sky as He did when the disciples were in one of those violent thunderstorms on the Sea of Galilee.  There is also a calming effect when a child sees courage in his dad.  Dad did know when to make us go inside if he thought we might be injured.  I do not know if momma knew it or not, but dad would say that we were not to tempt the Lord and that the Lord gave us a head to think.

I thank God that He gave me a dad who acknowledged the awesome power of God in thunder and lightning.  Dad also acknowledged the greatest power is the power of salvation.  HAPPY FATHER’S DAY

The voice of thy thunder was in the heaven: the lightnings lightened the world: the earth trembled and shook (Psalm 77:18 KJV).

For as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west; so shall also the coming of the Son of man be (Matthew 24:27 KJV)