Hands

JR's 8-year old hands are traced on a wall in faded pencil. A few weeks ago he showed me the history and we took a picture of the difference. As I looked, I saw a lot more than just size that had changed in those hands. I knew the hands that I was familiar with had decades more service and hard work and comfort in them than the tiny 8-year old version. The scars and callouses that cover that man's hands now tell stories of love and loyalty, opportunity, tenderness and sacrifice. 

And then a few nights later, I stumbled upon two sleeping boys. My son clutched a hand that tenderly cradled his little frame. I thought of all the unspoken hope and promise symbolized by that tiny act. Father and son. 

You chose wisely, baby boy. Those strong hands will teach you to throw a ball, and build a tree house. You will learn all about respect and kindness by watching those hands. You will learn that God comes first and that family is more important that everything else. Those hands will teach you about sacrifice. Watch closely sweet boy. Those hands will teach you to be the man you are meant to be.