Love, Jimmie

See these hands?  I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking, “What in the world happened to that guy?  Why do his hands look like that?  What are you doing, showing us a picture like that?”  Hang on with me here.

Those are Poppa’s hands.  Yes, they are gnarled and they look beat all to hell.  They look weak and sick and like they can’t do much, I know.  I’m here to tell you that that isn’t true.  Those hands have done amazing things over the course of his lifetime.

See this eagle?  Poppa made that for me.  Carved it with his own two hands.

See this knife?  Poppa made it.  He carved every single curve in that handle by hand. 

See these gun stocks?  Poppa made them.  All of that shaping was done by hand, with a tool and some sandpaper.

Poppa’s hands have always looked like knots of inflammation and bone, and they curl inward more with every year that passes.  They hurt him but mostly you never know it.  Give him a glass with no handle and instead of asking for another that is easier for him to lift, he hooks his thumb and forefinger onto to lip instead.  Give him some jeans that are too large and instead of fighting to run a belt through the loops, he attaches a pair of suspenders and hitches them over his shoulders.  Give him a cheek and he will reach up to touch it, soft and gentle.

Poppa needs your prayers again.  Please.  My brother calls him the Man on the Mountain.  It is accurate.  Our Man on the Mountain is giving us another scare, and we truly are afraid.  Please think of him.  Wish him peace.  We need that.