The Strength of His Hand

She wasn’t completely sure who they were, this darling couple and others who came to visit time and again. They called her Momma or Auntie or Nona… who were these people?

Her once short coifed hair had grown long and limp, the slow loss of curl and shine reflective of the persistent fading of her mind, her bright wit clouding…a cataract blinding her thinking, with no surgical solution. Memories kept flattening, then slipping away, like premature fallen leaves blowing onto an endless flowing river. A glimpse of color would dance and float by…if she could just catch and hold onto it, collect her vanishing thoughts and stories, preserve them in a beautiful silken bouquet. It had become futile, for each time she lifted her hand they flew past her, swirling shapes just out of reach. She was at the mercy of the river. Would her body, too, dissolve and be swept away?

She had been walking these halls for years. They seemed familiar some days; others, she was lost and bewildered. She navigated the labyrinth one step at a time oblivious to day or hour, propelled in some silent fashion, her body intent on going here or there. There was nothing more to do but take the next step, or sit and wait for direction.

Some days fear and rage would reign as a primordial sense of survival welled up in her, flailing to gain control of her rapidly diminishing cognizance. Then the terror would pass as she was comforted and assured she was not alone. Someone was indeed watching out for her. Her loved ones and caregivers understood her random angry outbursts were erupted frustrations at her inability to grab all that was slipping away, fissures releasing her awful grief and loss…of herself.

Then came this couple again, or a sweet grandchild or neice or nephew, faces swimming in and out of her visual field, always with smiles and hugs and a teary eye or two. With pictures and stories of “remember when” and time to sit together. There in her hand was a gift to open…something beautiful to wear, and once a jolly Santa hat. Some days it would bring a smile to her face as she caught up with who they were, glimpses of her memories flooding in like a shaft of light in a dimmed tunnel, bringing color and clarity. Something was familiar when they were there, a peace in their spirits speaking to hers. Fragrances of home and rest. Her mind floated in and out of the conversations. Hard as it was to engage, she could not find that elusive connect button…where was it, what was it, could she reach for it? With things beyond her control there was nothing she could do but ride along the ebbs and flows of the river, her drifting memories and connections continually floating farther away.

She looked down at the feeling of pressure and saw her hand within the firm grip of another’s…a man’s. A man who had murmured, “I love you,” and had hugged her tenderly. She walked with him as he led her through the labyrinth back to her room. She found trust somehow in that sure steady hand, the strength of his presence beside her. Who again was he, this man that was leading her home? He knew he was her son-in-law, even if she could not remember who he was. Her spirit sensed the Savior who dwelt in him. Her only ability, to live one moment at a time. She was just there, wherever that existence was. All she knew and could feel was the strength of His hand.


Thank You, LORD, that You always know where we are. Keep our hands securely in Yours. When we wander away, confused by the mazes of life, let us never forget You are reaching t’wards us, hands outstretched offering Your presence and care. When we are lost, LORD, rescue us, please, and bring us securely back into Your embrace. Restore us to the joy of Your salvation and uphold us with Your free Spirit. Thank You for Your unending Love. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Romans 8:38-39 KJV “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, 39 Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Psalm 51:10-12 “Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. 11 Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me. 12 Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.”

Psalm 118:14 NKJV “The Lord is my strength and song,
And He has become my salvation.”

14 thoughts on “The Strength of His Hand

  1. Nice work Sherry..this really captures the sad reality of aging…a mind is a precious thing to captured the narrow, frightful tunnel life becomes as the world collapses in their mind..

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ohh, this both a little sad and full of joy. Not remembering things or those we love can be sad but joy in knowing that our precious Lord’s hand will always be our guide.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Sherry, I was moved to tears! God has given you a beautiful gift and you are faithfully using it for His glory. It’s like Michele said: You are able to feel and describe what others experience. You are a blessing.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Tricia, thank you so much for your encouragement! I am just now reading through your “Re-blogs of My Journey Toward Wholeness.” Thank you for your open heart to bless and comfort others with the comfort God has comforted you! So beautiful! God bless you and all who read of your journey.💞💐


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