Holding Hands – A Guest Post

Today, I am excited to have a guest post from my friend, David Allen. David and I met at Methodist College, where we survived a speech class together. We hit it off and have been friends ever since. In fact, he’s a little bit of a hero to me. Being in a wheelchair has never slowed him down. It’s never been an excuse to give less than his whole heart and his whole effort, in every single circumstance I’ve seen him in. And when my I started this blog, he was the one I called and said, “David, what am I going to do?!” And he said, “I’ll walk you through it.” And he’s held my hand the whole way. I encourage you to read his post, see his heart, and make friends with him—‘cause he’s a pretty awesome guy. You can find him on Twitter as @racegearcom88.

As a young child, there was nothing like going to Grandma’s house.

I can remember coming home from school on Friday, packing my bags, and making the 20-minute trip.  Once I got there, she always had a smile that could change a room, something sweet to eat, and her Skip-Bo cards on the table.  The evening would consist of watching the Dukes of Hazzard on CBS and playing several games of Skip-Bo.  When the last cards were played and the game was over, we usually had ice cream before bed.  Ice cream was something Grandma only had with us grandkids.

When I woke up on Saturday mornings, it was a given that Grandpa had been to the local bakery and gotten enough doughnuts to feed a football team.  Some Saturdays we’d never leave our pajamas. But if the weather was nice, the swing in the front yard was the destination.  We’d spend hours talking or doing yard work until suppertime.  After supper, we would follow the same routine as the night before with the exception that now the Bible was on the table with the Skip-Bo cards.

Staying with Grandma on the weekend meant you would be in church on Sunday morning.  There were no options about going to church. Unless you were sick, you were going to be there.  I’ll be the first to admit the only time I went to church was with Grandma and sometimes church would seem a little intimidating.  Intimidating or not, I would always follow along in my Bible and when it came time to sing, I would stand up and sing beside Grandma.  Being disabled, standing wasn’t always easy, but if my footing seemed unsure, Grandma would reach over and hold my hand.  I was always willing to put in that extra effort because I could see the joy it brought to her face.

I didn’t always understand the lesson being taught that day, but on the way home, Grandma was always ready with an explanation.  Anytime she talked about God, she would hold my hand, it was a given.  As I got older, I noticed we didn’t hold hands as much, but when we did, it was much more meaningful.  I’ve had to face a lot of hurdles in life, but no matter what, it was that hand that was always there with an encouraging word.

I have a picture hanging on my wall that’s about 4 years old. Grandma had broken her leg and there we sat, side by side in our wheelchairs, holding hands.  I didn’t think that would be one of the very last times we’d hold hands.

Six months later, she began to suffer the symptoms of Alzheimer’s. I watched the person I knew slowly being taken away from me and nothing could be done about it.  She gave all she had right up until her last breath.

She always talked about going to be with God, she was ready for the journey, and she was looking forward to it.  At her visitation I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t do it, instead we held hands for the last time.  I thanked her for everything she had taught me, and for all she had done for me.  I knew she had made the trip to be with God and was looking down on me, proud of me.

As I finish this post, I think back on the tough times and I realize what I’ve overcome.  I know that my challenges aren’t done and just like Grandma there’s a plan for me too. I don’t know where the plan will take me, and I don’t know when it ends.  I do know at times it won’t be easy, but I won’t do it alone. Whether I can see it or not, there will be a hand for me to hold.

About Sarah Salter


  1. What a beautiful post! Thank you. These memories of something as simple as a hand held through difficult times are key to our future. How we can be that hand for other people, too, to carry on that warmth and support for those who need it is an admirable goal for life.

  2. Thank you SarahBee, I think in the hustle and go of life today people forget that sometimes just a helping hand goes so far. I know it has for me many times.

Speak Your Mind