At Leoshine’s African Zoom Party, my Dad mentioned that he wrote a poem. It is the one and only bit of writing he ever did. Here it is, with all his permission and joy in sharing his wonderful wife with the world:
I have always admired my dear Merilyn’s hands.
Gifted, powerful hands, caring hands.
Giving, creative, teaching hands,
Beautiful hands that are often clasped in prayer.
Those hands have fed our family for decades,
Have nursed us back to health,
Have made a home for us
And have continually prayed for us.
Her children know their mother’s tender hands
That caressed them, dressed them,
Wiped their tears, salved their hurts,
And lovingly covered them at night.
Merilyn’s hands have created gardens,
They have arranged flowers,
Those hands have baked and cooked,
Knitted and sewed: toys and blankets and dresses.
Her hands have lit the candles on the altar,
Have proudly carried the cross;
Sadly, have also carried our son’s ashes,
But still extend to deliver the Lord’s peace.
Today her hands are knobbly, her fingers bent,
Yet strong in clasping her bible,
Still powerful, still folding in prayer;
Clenching fists ‘Holding on to the Lord ‘.