Daddy’s hands were wrinkled Though he never seemed to care Each day they opened for his work At night folded for his prayer
Those furrows on his palms ran deep And I often wondered why The years had left their messages Like old friends passing by
But now when I bend down to help My grandson trying to stand If I look, I find that I Have got my Daddy’s hands!
Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Deuteronomy 11:19 ESV
My Daddy's Hands by Peter Caligiuri copyright 2024 All rights reserved
And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. Luke 15:20 ESV
After the war, my dad ran a beauty shop for most of his adult life. In those days, shops were open from Tuesday through Saturday. Of course that did not mean he only worked five days. Oh no! Monday was the day when dad would clean the chairs, hairdryers, floor and the bathroom. Then, just when you might think that we were done, dad came home and took out an old fashioned accounting ledger, and balanced his books for the week. Now my dad was pretty special, but in those days one thing he did made me very uncomfortable. That one thing was his Italian manner of kissing me on both cheeks on occasion. Maybe when the prodigal son first came home he felt a little like me. He was stumbling home in rags after having wasted all that his father had given to him and the real embarrassment was not his father’s love, but his lack of any idea of how to love him in return. In my own case, when I frustrated my dad with teenage behavior, was ungrateful and rarely acknowledged that he was ever right, he just kept on loving me. That is not to say dad ever liked, accepted or encouraged my mistakes, but no matter how often I rejected his values or hurt his feelings, he kept on loving and caring about me.
That love of my dad, was great, but it was only a pale shadow of the love and grace of Jesus Christ. The baffling thing about that kind of grace is that when God sits down to His ledger book, there is no accounting practice that can explain why He should want to balance our debt of sin against the price of our redemption. But like the prodigal’s father, God runs and embraces us while we are still on the way home to Him, and then kisses us on both cheeks. The first kiss, was planted as Jesus suffered in agony on the cross for the sins we committed. The second kiss was given outside the empty tomb on Sunday morning, when He comforted Mary while she wept, and then appeared saying, “Don’t be afraid!” to the eleven disciples while they hid behind locked doors. How can we answer such prodigal grace? His answer is an invitation us to come home to Him, receive the cleansing of His blood, be filled with His Spirit and yield to the embrace of His amazing love!
Honor your father and your mother, as the Lord your God commanded you, that your days may be long, and that it may go well with you in the land that the Lord your God is giving you. Deuteronomy 5:16 ESV
I was quite moved at the Memorial Day event held at our community clubhouse yesterday. Though I myself have not served in the armed forces, I gratefully recalled all that my dad did during WW2. Dad, as a second generation Italian, had his introduction to Italy when he landed there during the battle of Anzio in March of 1944. Then in August of that year he was wounded, when his landing craft was sunk off the coast of St. Raphael,France. Because I grew up without my dad, I never realized or appreciated all that he did and had gone through that year. To me, dad was just a quiet stranger who didn’t seem to understand the motivations and questions of my generation. Little did I know how much he did know and just how smart he really was.
Today , I sit in wonder as I come face to face with how much he and thousands of other guys did and how much I miss him. Thank God for you dad. I know that you have found peace and ultimate victory in the arms of Jesus Christ but I wanted to take this little space to honor you. You were a quiet soldier, a simple man and a faithful father and I am thankful that God gave you to me.
Though all the honor ultimately belongs to God, I am not only commanded to honor my parents, but God backs this command up with a blessing. And though our moms and dads were not perfect(who is?), we are each in some way blessed as we honor them. God promises a special blessing when we remember them with gratitude and then pass on their story to others. For me, one of those special blessings, was bringing my dad to Washington D.C. for the dedication of the WW2 memorial. I snapped his picture there and then years later, my cousin gave me another photo of him from when he was still in uniform. When I held it up I was suddenly struck by how similar they were. Here was the same man, with the same smile and yet a lifetime of wounds and struggles, defeats and victories separated them. Today I have only a few photographs and memories, but I am grateful for all the good that my dad left behind. God is faithful to keep all His promises. So, let’s pause for a moment and give honor to our parents, so that we may pass along to our own children a life’s story of our own that points to the honor of the most wonderful Father of all!
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