“His Right Hand”

My Aunt Opal was a special lady. One of the best cooks God ever breathed life into. If you ever had the privilege of sitting at her table, you know what I mean. Her kindness was legendary in our family — she had a heart like a quilt: warm, stitched with love, and always big enough to cover one more. And her sense of humor? Sharp as a tack and just as useful.

I remember her telling us this one story about her and Uncle Clyde riding through the country. They’re just driving along, quiet road, trees on both sides — and she says Clyde reached over and held her hand. She said it was this real tender moment. He tells her how much he loves her, how grateful he is for her strength, her devotion. Says she’s his rock, his strong right hand. And just as she’s tearing up, feeling all mushy inside — they pass a field with a tractor in it. For sale sign and all.

Well, Clyde lets go of her hand, slows the car, turns his head, and says, “Man… I’d give my right hand for a tractor like that.”

Opal said that just about summed up married life.

Now, we all laughed, of course — Clyde took the fall in that joke, but anyone who knew them could see the truth under the laughter. They were each other’s right hand. That kind of bond — forged in decades of shared laughter, raising kids, burying loved ones, paying bills, watching sunsets — that’s not something you come by lightly.

The term “right-hand man” goes way back. It’s more than just a helper. It’s someone you trust with the hard stuff. The honest stuff. The “you’re getting it wrong, and I love you too much to let it slide” stuff. That’s what Aunt Opal and Uncle Clyde were for each other.

We’ve all got stories like that in our families — folks fussin’ and pickin’ at each other like cats and dogs. But let an outsider say something, and they’ll circle the wagons in a heartbeat. That’s the beauty of a right-hand person: they may correct you, but it’s out of love. It’s because they’re for you. Sometimes that correction is the only thing that keeps us from heading off a cliff. Sometimes it takes someone who loves us enough to speak the hard truth.

Even God, in all that powerful love He pours out (just look at John 3:16), sometimes has to pull us back when we’re wandering off track.

Aunt Opal’s gone on now, but Uncle Clyde — he’s still with us at 93. And I’d bet you anything if you asked him, he’d tell you that even now, even after all these years… Opal’s still his right hand.

We all need someone like that. Family, friend, spouse — someone who knows when to take your hand and when to let go just long enough to look at the tractor… but then turns back to you, every time.

God bless…