Your Hands were the ones that held me when I first heard the horrible news. Firm, solid, safe, bearing the weight of shock as I surrendered to disbelief.
Your Hands held me in Your lap as I learned the circumstances surrounding his sudden death. As the images swirled in my mind, You held me and provided a safe place for my tears to fall.
Your Hands gently grasped mine from across the table. I looked to You for spiritual guidance pleading for understanding. Your eyes searching mine offering comfort and compassion.
A teacher of the Word, Your Hands gave me strength and courage to walk through those early blinding days.
I ran from the reality of his death. You covered me in Your embrace while Your Hands generously guided me away from the superfluous details of death in this life.
Both of you held me with Your Hands as I was powerless to walk that dark and narrow hallway. My feet dragging, crying out in anguish, my eyes searching to see him one last time.
Your Hands, lifted up, dancing in front of the mirrors despite the grief that filled the room. Your joy turned my mourning into dancing, but for that moment, and taught me that His light is powerful enough to pierce the darkness.
Hundreds of Your Hands held mine as You filed past his coffin, honoring us with Your presence, Your time, Your memories. Your hands brought deep comfort and hope, and affirmed for me that my brother was not forgotten.
Your Hands welcomed me and provided me the space to tell my story of grief. From Your Hands I drew strength to release my burden and to remove the mask of pretend.
Your Hands, raised in worship, allowed me to rest in Your praises when I could not find the hope or strength to utter my own.
Your Hands held mine, in stillness and silence, allowing my tears to fall and my questions to go unanswered.
Your Hands comforted me as you prayed the prayers I could not utter. It was Your prayers and the reassurance of Your hope and faith in Jesus Christ that enabled me to stretch out my hands and lay my brother’s memory at the foot of the LORD’s altar.
Into His Hands I submitted my life renewed to the understanding of His promises and His truths.
In His Hands I found life. A redeemed, restored life. My vessel was shattered, but in His holy wisdom and with His gentle hands, He took each piece and carefully placed them making me whole once again.
In His Hands
I now rest.
Whether I utter shouts of praise or shouts of despair,
Whether I am seeking solitude or fellowship,
Whether I am certain of Hope in Him or am needing a reminder of His faithfulness,
the Body of Christ remains faithful to me.
Your Hands continue to bring me comfort, joy, peace, wisdom, assurance, relief, and understanding.
The Hands of
His children are
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing your praises and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever! Psalm 30:11-12
This month I remember my brother. It has been ten years since his passing, ten years since I last spoke with him, ten years since I danced with him at my wedding.
With these words, I wish to honor those who walked behind, beside, and ahead of me through the pain and struggle of grief. For you all, I am eternally grateful. There are so many of you who have been present both in person and in spirit, too many to count.
I know many prayers have been lifted up and many prayers answered for me and my family. We are living a new normal. We miss him everyday. Yet, even in death there is hope, in death there is life, in death we can see the Light of God shining in our lives turning misery into majesty.