There's something special about my Father's hands.
They have strength enough to build a house,
And love enough to build a home.

They're large --large enough to go around
Ten children, one wife and two dogs in one embrace.

My Father's hands are firm enough to say "no" when he knows he's right,
Yet gentle enough to comfort a crying baby.

My Father's hands are talented-
Since our family began they have played the guitar
And serenaded us through endless family nights, programs and reunions.

His hands are tough--
Tough enough to carry his family through trials, sickness and even death
Without weakening even once.

My Father's hands are patient-
Patient in teaching his children by example
And then letting them learn through their own experiences the difference between right and wrong.

His hands are humble enough to know he's not quite perfect,
And loyal enough to always revere his own parents.

My Father's hands are dedicated to his responsibilities,
To his Family, his Church and his community.

His hands are righteous enough to baptize all his children,
And to relieve pain and illness through magnifying his divine Priesthood.

Yes . . . There is something very special about my Father's Hands.

by Sally Oxborrow Meservy
June 19, 1977