To my wife of 40 years with love.
Hands that held mine as we walked in the desert and began our life together.
Hands that held our first born in awe and wonder.
Hands that comfort, caress and wipe away tears.
Hands that brought joy and wonder.
Hands that changed diapers, washed clothes and dishes and cooked countless meals.
Hands that clapped with pride and joy at performances, assemblies, games and concerts.
Hands that held books that brought laughter, curiosity and wisdom.
Hands that reach out to others in their brokenness.
Hands that create out of spinning clay and fire.
Hands that speak to those who cannot hear.
Hands held high in worship toward the God she loves.
Hands that ache and hurt and are worn out from years of toil, but go on.