Russell Park

Russell I. Park
January 17, 1923 - December 4, 2004

I've lived my life with the understanding that everything is in God's plan.

But some things I question and some I ignore and I just do the best that I can.

Then on Thanksgiving life turned upside down and a strong healthy man fell ill.

Grandpa fought with all his might and never lost his will.

A week later, to the day I sat by his bed as he slept.

I thought about how much I loved that man and held his hand as I wept.

On Saturday morning, December the fourth, God took his hand and showed him the way,

To a place that we can only dream about, no pain, no tears, just day.

The pain of our loss is incredible, I can't believe that he's gone

But in a surprising turn of events, we found out his spirit lives on.

I call this the circle of life, the Lord giveth and taketh away.

And as fresh as the hurt is, this child inside, is the dawning of a brand new day.

In August we'll receive the bittersweet gift of a baby, innocent and new,

And Grandpa's love will be in its eyes and his spirit will be shining through.

I'll pass on the memories that we made while we were blessed to have him here,

And Grandpa will be smiling down, our dear angel, ever so near.

~ Piper 12.11.04

Dec 25, 2003 ~ He Slept Through Anything

Nov 8, 1997 ~ Classic Grandpa. . . .Sleeping The D

Nov 28, 1997 ~ Classic Grandpa. . . .Sleeping The Day Away

March 14, 2003 ~ One Of My Favorite Pictures

My blog entry on December 4, 2004

Grandpa's Hands

"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and walked my daughter down the aisle.

"They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else works real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life.

"But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember the moment God reached out and took my grandpa's hands and led him home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my child I think of grandpa. I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel his hands upon my face. And when I do, I know my Grandpa will be there by my side, standing quietly, ready to wrap his arms around me.