Hands Can

Had a dream last night about my Dad's hands.  Dad passed away about 17 months ago, but I can still see his hands clearly and I don't think I'll ever forget.  David and I were working on separate projects for our birthing class.  Part of my project was to come up with what is called a "birth bundle" - a combination of items that are symbolic of motherhood, fatherhood, and our new baby.  I was thinking about David's transition to fatherhood and what that means for him, for me, and to our baby.
David will be an absolutely fantastic Dad.  I have absolutely no concerns about this.  I realize how how lucky we both are to have such loving, attentive, supportive fathers.  My own father was a superhero to me.  It seemed like there wasn't anything he didn't know and nothing he couldn't do.  When I think of my Dad, so many things come to mind, but what really stuck out for me the other night was his hands.
Ever realize that you remember exactly what if feels like to hold your Dad's hand?  The way his palm holds yours? How big it is, how strong it is, the texture of his skin, the security of that hand over yours?  Ever consider all that those hands have done?
Those hands create things.  My Dad could build and fix - my childhood swing set was handmade by him, complete with two swings, slide, balance beams, and sandbox.  He built the house that we spent our growing up years in and that we still call home.  He chopped the wood we burned in the fireplace and created and installed the stained glass windows that flank the fireplace and tell a story in our family room.  He taught me how to change a flat tire, hang a picture, and grip my first golf club.
Hands provide, teach, hold.  They can envelope you in the most comforting hug.  They can guide you while you dance on his feet in the kitchen.  They can put barrettes in your hair before school and carry you to bed when you've fallen asleep in the car.  They can strum a guitar while singing your song.

I was blessed to have a father who loved me very much.  And I now realize what the perfect symbol of fatherhood is for me.  My Dad had great hands.