Dad's Hands

I remember being sick as a child and my mom would make me nice and comfy in her bed (they had a tv in their room - perfect for a sick kid!). She would check on me, love on me and do her best to make me feel better all day.
Then Dad would come home from work.
I would hear him come in the door, greet my mom and sister, then make his way back to the bedroom.
About now I would work up my most pathetic face.
He would approach so sympathetically, then place his big hand across my forehead.
His hands were so strong, so very manly, and so incredibly soft, cool and gentle.
They are such a representation of my father.

Steel and brawn. Love and care.
He loves the Lord so much and I attribute my love for God to my wonderful upbringing. My parents made sure I knew how much they loved God.
They were careful to be sure I understood that God loves me.
And I'm so grateful. Nothing else is so important as that.
Yesterday my Dad and husband spent all day outside in the heat building a swing set from scratch for our girls.
My dad is a perfectionist and wanted them to have better than what we were planning. Turns out making one ourselves cost about the same as buying a cheap metal one from the store.
I wanted to tear up all day watching their labor of love.
I watched my dad at work and remembered how many things he has made for me in my life.
Like when I wished to live on "Little House on the Prairie" (for many reasons!) so that I could play on the teeter totter that spun around.
So...my dad made my sister and I one.
He built us a playhouse, he built a ladder for himself when he couldn't find one tall enough. He made a special lofted bed for me when I moved into a studio apartment so that I could have a couch and a bed, he made a table to fit into that same apartment that I still use, he built my niece a similar lofted bed...he just is so talented.
With the same care and determination, he taught me about God. About His love. That God isn't a list of dos and don'ts. He isn't a bully watching over us and playing with our lives like a game of chess. He is purposeful, wonderful, caring, powerful and approachable.
He is everything.
My mind will never be void of the image of my dad sipping his coffee and reading his Bible in the morning. I will never forget because it was an every day sight. If I happen to be at my parents for any reason in the morning, I still catch him this way.
He is a caring, wonderful father and I am so grateful to have him. He loves my sister and I and wants only good for us. And now our children.
And it seems my husband is joining the ranks. To watch Little Miss observe and help her Daddy and Pa yesterday was magical.