My Dad's Hands

My dad's hands are amazing. Big, strong, and calloused (and more often than not, stained by the day's work).

My dad's hands can fix or build anything. From the tiniest details on his fly fishing rods, to the largest luxury home. My fondest dream is that someday I will live in a home built by those hands.

His hands serve constantly. If anyone needs help, he's there. Moving? Car broken down? No problem. He's rescued me more times than I can count.

His hands on the steering wheel of the car, boat, snowmobile made me feel safe no matter how fast we were going.

His hands are impossibly gentle as he holds his grandbabies or cuddles the older "grands". They are tender as he places them on my head to give a needed blessing. They comfort me in a way no other hands can.

They are the hands of a carpenter, and his life mirrors that of the Master Carpenter. A man who has not attained the praise and accolades as the world gives them, but who has through the work of his hands built his mansion.

And who has the unequivocal love and admiration of his daughter.

I love you dad. Happy Father's Day.

Comments

pan x 8 said…
Really Karen, this is a very touching post. Thank you!
Cindy said…
I'm seriously misty! What a sweet tribute!
Marrdy said…
That was beautiful Karen!