My Dad's Hands
Bedtime came, we were settling down,
I was holding one of my lads.
As I grasped him so tight, I saw a strange sight:
My hands...they looked like my dad's!
I remember them well, those old gnarled hooks,
there was always a cracked nail or two.
And thanks to a hammer that strayed from it's mark,
his thumb was a beautiful blue!
They were rough, I remember, incredibly tough,
as strong as a carpenter's vice.
But holding a scare little boy at night,
they seemed to me awfully nice!
The sight of those hands-how impressive it was
in the eyes of his little boy.
Other dad's hands were cleaner, it seemed
(the effects of their office employ).
I gave little thought in my formative years
of the reason for Dad's raspy mitts:
The love in the toil, the dirt, and the oil
The torch of love in my own wrinkled hands
will pass on to the hands of my son.
I don't mind the bruises, the scares here and there
or the hammer that just seemed to slip.
I want most of all when my son takes my hand
to feel that love lies in the grip.
A young
man went to seek an important position at a large printing company. He passed
the initial interview, and was on his way to meet the director for the final
interview. The director saw his resume, which was excellent, and asked; ‘- Have
you received a scholarship for school?'
The boy
replied, " No “.
-' It
was your father who paid for your studies? '-' Yes.'- He replied.
-'
Where does your father work? '
-' My
father is a Blacksmith'
The
Director asked the young to show him his hands.
The young
man showed a pair of hands soft and perfect.
-' Have
you ever helped your father with his work? '
-'
Never, my father always wanted me to study and read more books. Besides, he can
do his better than I.
The
director said:-' I have a request; when you go home today, wash the hands of
your father, and then come see me tomorrow morning.
‘The
young felt his chance to get the job was high. When he returned to his house,
he asked his father if he would allow him to wash his hands. The father felt
strange, but happy with mixed feelings. He showed his hands to his son.
The
young washed the father’s hands, little by little. This was the first time that
he noticed that his father's hands so wrinkled, and with so many scars. Some of
the bruises were causing the father so much pain that the skin shuddered when touched.
This
was also the first time that the young man recognised what it meant for this
pair of hands to work, every day, just to be able to pay for- his study.
The
bruises on his father’s hands were the price that the father had paid for the
son’s education, his school activities, and his future.
After
cleaning his father's hands, the young man stood in silence and began to tidy
and clean up the workshop. That night, father and son talked for a long time. The
next morning, the young man went to the office of the director.
The
Director noticed the tears in the eyes of the young when He asked,” can you
tell me what you did and what you learned yesterday at your father’s house?”
'The
boy replied, -' I washed my father's hands and when I finished I stayed and cleaned
his workshop. Now I know what it is to appreciate, and I now recognise that
without my parents, I would not be who I am today. By helping my father, I now
realise how difficult, and hard, it is to do something all on one’s own. I have
come to appreciate the importance, and the value, of a family-each member doing
all he, or, she, is able to help other members.
The
director said, "That is what I look for in my people; I always want to
hire someone who can recognise, and appreciate, the helping hands of others, a
person who feels, and knows, the hardships of others; to do what they feel
needs doing, a person who does not put money as his only goal in life. A child who
has been coddled, protected and usually given what he or she wants; develops a
mentality of ‘I have the right’ and will
always put himself first, ignoring the efforts of their parents. If we are this
type of protective parent are we really showing love, or are we destroying our
children? You can give your child a big house, good food, computer classes, a
big screen TV. However, when you are washing the floor, or painting a wall,
please let them experience that too. After eating, have them; wash the dishes,
and do other chores, right alongside of with their brothers and sisters; not because
you have no money to hire someone to do this; but because you want to love them-
the right way.
No matter how rich you are, you want them to
understand: one day their hair will have grey; like the hair of this young man’s
father.
The
most important thing is that your child must learn is to appreciate the effort,
the difficulties, and the ability, to work well, with others, to get things
done. "
