Hands that Labor & Love
Father's Day is right around the corner. I posted this last year in honor of all hard working, loving and caring dad's out there...
My hubby has been working very hard this spring on our homestead. He also works a full time job and commutes 45 minutes each way to work. His weeks are often very long.
Last winter we had a huge tree fall during a storm. This spring he began to clean up the tree. The tree was so big it will provide all our firewood for this year and much of what we will need for next year. It has been a big project. He has just kept working at it day by day. Sawing the limbs off one by one, bringing the wood up closer to the house and then cutting it up and splitting it by hand.
The other day he said to me that his hands were aching a bit and could I rub them. I of course did. And as I rubbed his hands I just started noticing them even more so. They feel rough and have cuts and callouses from the work he has been doing. I spent time thinking about those hands.
These are the hands that work a job to provide for us. The hands that work our homestead to keep it looking nice, to make improvements, to gather in the firewood each year. The hands that have remodeled parts of our home, built chicken coops and repaired an old barn. The hands that fix the cars when needed, the hands that have fixed broken toys and bicycles for children, fixed broken equipment, lawn mowers, string trimmers, even microwaves, ovens, dishwashers, washing machines, dryers and the list could go on.
Those strong hands are also the hands that have held our newborn babies, wiped tears and hugged crying children, cleaned up messes that little ones made, changed a lot of diapers over the years and taught children how to drive a stick shift and change a tire on their car before letting them get a drivers license. Hands that today hold his grandchildren's hands as they come here to visit and see Grandpa.
They are also the hands that have held me when I cried, wiped my tears, held my hand while we walk, given me amazing back rubs, hands that wrap me in his arms and whisper “I love you”. Hands that have cared for me when I was sick, hands that have loved me and our family in many ways through many years.
Hands that show to me all the labor and all the love that comes from his heart. Much of life can be seen through our hands.