This evening we attended our oldest daughter's baccalaureate service at Nyack College, a Christian Missionary Alliance college from which she will graduate tomorrow. Tonight was a chance for the faculty to bless them and for the class to worship together one last time. Our daughter, Jo, sat with the other graduates about seven rows in front of us. I really couldn't see her because of the robe and mortar board, but I knew it was her because she had, by far, the longest earrings of any of the students.
The student-led worship music was phenomenal. Then I glanced up at my oldest one more time and was overcome by how beautiful she looked. We were still seven rows behind her, so the cap and gown still blocked my view. Except for her hands. Her beautiful hands were raised in worship to her Lord and King. Her hands, with the graceful lines of a ballerina's hands; with the selfless humility of a missionary's hands, were doing what they were made to do; adore her Jesus.
The same hands that, when smaller and pudgier, clasped tightly my finger as she gazed up at me in complete trust and wonder from her bassinette.
The same hands that, as a toddler in Sunday school grabbed all the yellow crayons from the crayon can and refused to share any of her favorite color with the other children.
The same hands that could never seem to get the letters in the right order when taking a spelling test; couldn't even get her "d's" and "b's" pointing the right way.
The same hands that learned to juggle, and performed with the family from Maine to Montana.
The same hands that shook uncontrollably when, on a New Year's Eve in high school, she met a world class yoyo champion, who also happened to be a wonderfully handsome college student.
The same hands she referred to at an Easter service in our home church when she said, "I want to hold AIDS orphans and boy soldiers and tell them they are beautiful."
The same hands that did just that in Kenya as a senior in high school, and again in Uganda last summer.
Those beautiful, beautiful hands, reaching up to her Heavenly Father. May she always clasp tightly His finger, and gaze at him in complete trust and wonder.