From my hands...to His.
The first time I held her hand she was so small and fragile.
Why would God entrust his child to someone so flawed?
I remember her holding tightly to my hand as she learned to walk.
She was so unsure, but then I let go and she took her first steps.
And then she held my hand as we crossed the street for the first day of class.
She was so nervous, hoping there would be new friends for her to meet.
But she was afraid and held my hand tightly, not wanting me to leave.
Then I let her go and entrusted her to the teacher’s outstretched hands.
Next, she held my hand when she went through the challenges of life.
She grasped them so tightly, wishing for the nightmares to be over.
And then I had to let her go, as once again I entrusted her care to others.
Giving her the encouragement to stay strong. And she made it through!
And then, one day, it was I who was grasping her hand.
Not wanting to let go. Afraid of the unknown.
Wishing for the nightmare to be over.
Not wanting her to leave.
Time stood still as I was taken back to the beginning,
To the moment she first grasped my hand with her delicate fingers.
Then in a flash I was remembering her first day of school,
but now I was the nervous one,
hoping there would be friends and family for her to meet.
This time it was I who was afraid to let go. I wasn’t ready!
There was so much more that I wanted to say!
So much more that I wanted to do.
So many of her dreams yet to live.
Once again I had to let her go and entrust her care to another.
It had now come full circle and I was just beginning to see
just how hard it must have been for God
when He let go of her hand and entrusted her to me.
But this time when I let her go I knew she wasn’t going away.
She was going home.
|painted by Reesa's sister, Brandee|
|Last time Reesa and Dad held hands|
|Reesa reaching for God|
Angel painting by Brandee Kammerman
Hand paintings by Karen Tarlton
Prose by Dad