My Brother
Rev. Carl A. Layne Promoted to Heaven
October 10, 1991

He preached the Gospel for more than 50 years with great love and  compassion for lost souls,leading many of them to Christ.He also preached the Word of God to edify Christians.

He was instrumental in leading me to Christ,for which I shall forever be grateful.

              ----Rutherford E. Layne

The following was written by his precious granddaughter, Cindy Adkins. It is a great tribute, honoring her grandfather she loved so much. His love was so very great for all his family.

HIS HANDS

His hands are the looking glass of his life. They bring together the integral parts that are him. His hands, like Mount Rushmore, are weathered with time, but still strong, and stand as monuments to decades of hard work and trials.

His hands are old. They are worn to the color of a dried ladle gourd, and decorated with spots the color of newly tilled Virginia soil. His hands are well textured as if, somehow, the grained leatherette of his Bible has molded itself to them. The skin is lax, almost peaceful, and content after decades of uphill struggles finally won.

His hands are marred. Carpentry claimed the top joints of his index and ring finger on his left hand. The stubbed ends that were once sensitive and painful are now toughened and workable. Edging the nails are stained cuticles, sometimes the color of oak, cherry, or black walnut, depending on what he is staining. Beneath the trimmed fingernails are traces of sawdust and sandpaper powder. On the underside are calloused, hardened knots serve as tributes to chopping, tilling, and harvesting. Encircling his left ring
finger is a five-centimeter-wide scar. It is the symbol of the love he shared with his spouse. Though the crease is now void of its material token, it still holds a canyon of memories as deep as the love itself.

His hands are big. His hands are able to carry four logs at a time to the fireplace, or a mess of beans, to be snapped, from the garden to the back porch. Seventy three years of hard work credit his hands with
rippling tendons stretching from the tops of his fingers to the base of his wrists. The muscles are lithe enough to shuck a bushel of corn before I can as much. His hands swallow mine during family prayer, as if sheltering me. His firm handshake attests to the strength of his hands, as well as his inner strength.

Whoever said, "You can tell a man by his hands," must have known my grandfather.

Looking at his hands brings back dusty memories of Sunday dinners on the carport, him carving the roast, of going to revival, his hands on either side of the rostrum, raising into a fist, and pounding down solidly to make a point. His hands, busy at work, planning and carving a three foot Daniel Boone rifle.

The hands clasped and raised in prayer, late one summer night, leading his two oldest grandchildren to Christ. The strong hand holding fast to my mother's, one sad Christmas. If you were to look into his face, love hides all traces of a weathered  life; but when anyone looks upon his hands, one can see the fruitful life my Papaw has lead.

 -------Cindy Adkins, 1978

The message "God's Three Appointments With Man" is on "Biblical Messages" Page and  was written by my brother, probably in the late 30's when he was an Assistant Pastor in the Akron, Ohio area.