A moment in the life of a girl

    As I walked toward the fence behind the batters box, bright lights suddenly popped on, and there he was. Dad was on the pitchers mound warming up. He looked so different than he did throwing pitches at home in the backyard, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. As he wound his arm around and then let loose of the softball, it flew into the catchers mitt with a loud pop.  

     My fingers looped themselves into the chain link fence behind the catcher as I stared at my Dad mesmerized.

     I knew that he was going to pitch that night, we'd all been talking about it for days, but now, seeing him in uniform lit up by the lights with crowds of people watching and cheering, he was so much more than just my Dad. He was, suddenly, some other incredible thing. He was intense, powerful, strong, confident...and oh, so handsome. 

     And as the sky grew dark, Dad looked at me and winked as he ran to the dugout to join his team. I saw him stop and say something to the umpire before the other teams pitcher made his way to the mound.     

    The umpire took his place behind the catcher and looked at me. "Your Dad asked me to tell you to take your fingers out of the fence, honey," he told me, "And to step back away from the backstop. Fly balls sometimes go over the fence." 

     "Okay", I replied pulling my hands away. "I've never seen my Dad pitch in a real game before?" I told him. "Oh yeah?" The Umpire replied. "Well you're in for a real treat tonight then, because your Dad's a real good pitcher."

     And as I walked away from that moment in time, I knew that Dad would always be more to me than he had before that moment. Because in the minutes that I watched him through the fence he had turned into something I had never seen before, and I would never forget it. 

     And later that night, when I stood in the concession line, Dad was on the pitchers mound again, and this time the game was in full swing. When our team cheered, I turned to watch Dad running back to the dugout as his teammates slapped him on the back. 

     "That Pitcher is my Dad!" I shouted to everyone who could hear.  "He's my Dad!"

Red lips and Ribbons

  

     You're right inside the in-between. Almost there but not quite there. You find yourself tettering the line between being an adolescent girl and wanting to become a woman. I know this because I was you.

     I watch as you feel your way along wearing red lips and ribbons. I see you breath deep and slow,  and I watch as you look back, perhaps in hesitation,  toward the place you came from. I see you stop and touch the silky ribbon in your hair. You might be thinking that you should have left it tucked in the back of your little girl drawer. But I can tell that you're not ready for that yet, and I'm glad. Please don’t be ready for that yet.

     Some run ahead of you on this line, laughing self assured, never missing a step, and you stand here covered in the wake of their dust. But then the boy runs by. The Stallion with the smile and the eyes. And when he stops, he turns his charm around and gives it all to you. All of it, and for a second you can't breath. But when you can, you take a deep breath, pop those red lips, and pull the ribbon from your hair. 

     I see you grip it in your hand, rub it with your thumb, and pause unsure. I get close enough to see you wobble on the line and I remember…

     In that moment what I really want to do is run to the line and hold you back. I want to take you back to the playground where little boys and little girls live. 

     But it’s a naïve thought and I know this because you would not stay there even if I did. I know you can't stay there, no one can stay there...and yet…I still wish you could and I'll hope it all the same. Just stay back with me for a little while longer, Please? Just a little while longer.

     But even as I think this, I see your desire to run ahead lured by the magnetic pull of that beautiful boy. You want another of his smiles. I know you do because I remember those smiles and that feeling.

   The desire to find your place in this herd of, "Children no more," is tangible. I can feel it, so  I place my hand on your arm. 

     "Can we stop for a second?" I ask?  You pause and turn to me. "I'm not sure you're ready for that?" 

     "For what?" you ask as you toss back your hair. "For the Stallion," I tell her, and tug the silky ribbon from her hand. Her breath catches, and I watch her face as it leaves her fingers.

     "Let me tie this back into your hair, okay?"

     She pauses, looks toward the direction of the boy, then at her ribbon in my hand. I watch her surrender as she lets out a long slow breath. "Okay, she says." 

     "And there will be many charming smiles ahead for you," I tell her, as I tie the bow into her hair and frame her pretty face.

     "So promise me you won't rush ahead too fast." 

     She blinks her eyes and sighs,  "Okay," she says, "I promise." 

     "And keep wearing this ribbon for a while too, all right? I can tell you're not ready to let it go." Another sigh as she nods her acceptance.

     "Will you walk with me for a little while?" I ask her. Then I nod to everything ahead of her on the line.  "That will all still be there and waiting when you're ready."

     She looks me in the eye and takes my hand in hers. "Thank you," she says.

     And so we walk.  And as I squeeze her hand, I smile.           

    

Before you were born...

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations Jeremiah 1:5

Upon you I have leaned from before my birth; you are he who took me from my mother’s womb. My praise is continually of you. Psalm 71:6 ESV

Even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him.  Ephesians 1:4 ESV

  

   So now...as you ponder these Scriptures and consider what they mean, I want you to think about what it might have been like before God breathed life into your earthy spirit, and let me tell you a story.

     Imagine this...

     You, a preciously loved and perfectly made child is placed at the beginning of a road by your Heavenly Father.  You stand there holding his hand and look down the road, but you don't  understand the things you see. This road is not familiar to you at all. It's full of loud voices, and chaos, and dirty things. It's nothing at all like the roads in Heaven. You look up at your Father, confused. "What is this Daddy?" You ask him. He kneels down beside you and places his hands on your face. "It's the road that leads to your life on earth, little one,"  and He draws you in for a hug, "and it ends back here in Eternity where you’ll be back with Me forever."   

     "No Daddy. I don't want to go!"

     It's going to be okay," He tells you, "because I have sent someone down this road ahead of you. It's how I know that you'll be back with Me one day. Now watch."

      So you sit in your Father's lap and see a man you recognize arrive on the road. "Is that Jesus?" You ask Him. 

     "Yes. That's right."

     You watch as Jesus clears a path of light along the road . "He will light your way," your Father tells you." And you Jesus gather up everything dark and ugly and carry it upon his back. You can tell that the pain of this hurts him and so you hold your breath and grab your Fathers hand. "It's going to be okay." He tells you.  And pulls you close. "I promise."

     Further down the road, you watch Jesus break bread at a table with twelve men that he loves. And a bit further you hear his cries to the your Father from a garden." 

     "Oh Daddy!" you say. 

     Then you see Jesus fall as he carries a large wooden cross on his back. "Please help him," you cry as you squeeze your Father's hand, and He has tears in His eyes when he answers you. "I can't." He says shaking his head. "Jesus had to do this. His sacrifice and death on the cross is what changed everything."

     And so you watch as Jesus' hands are nailed to the wood. "His scars!" you cry, rubbing a finger over your palm. "That's how he got them?" 

     "Yes, sweet girl. That's how he got them."

    Then tears fall from your Father's eyes as Jesus says from the cross, "It is finished," and you see Jesus take his last breath.    

     "But... Jesus," you say. "He's here."

     "Yes. His life on earth was over, so He came home. And you will too one day." 

     Your Father holds you for a long time. He knows how hard leaving them will be for you.        "Your time is almost up, sweet girl. You have to start your life on earth. Your family is waiting."  

      So you stand and sniffle. Take a few deep breaths. "Can I give Jesus a hug before I go, Daddy?"

     "Of course you can." Then your Father tells one of the Angels that he'd like to see Jesus, so you stand and look at the road until Jesus arrives. When he does, you run into his arms. "I love you, Jesus!" you say, arms wrapped around his neck. "I love you too, precious girl!"

     When he finally puts you down, you look up at him and take both of his hands in yours. Then you kiss each scar inside his palms. 

     "Go on now," your Fathers tells you. Your family is waiting, remember? Your life on earth is about to begin."

       Still holding God's hand you take an unsteady step and place your foot onto the terribly stained and rutted road before you. "I don’t like this road, Daddy,”  you tell him. “I'm scared."

     “Jesus will light the way, remember? But you must go down it.” He tells you this with love. “It is simply the way it must be. And know this too," He pauses. "You will leave your own ugly stain behind my sweet girl, because you will become a daughter of Eve and you will have a sin nature. A time will come that you will turn away from me.”          

     “No Daddy! Please?  Don’t make me go. I want to stay here with you?”

     “You cannot."   He says firmly.  "You must go. Walk in faith and trust me.  And remember this... My Glory will be everywhere. So if you look for me, you will see me. And when Jesus died, he left an earthy Helper behind. It's called the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit will teach you and help you remember the things you already know. Study the Bible and learn about Eternity, and then all the truth inside you will return. Do those things, and they will lead you back to me.”

     So with crocodile tears you take another small step and you watch as your Father engraves your name into the palm of His hand.  "I know every hair on your head,” he tells you, “and I see every sparrow that falls. So go on now.”

     You turn around for one last look and plead.  “What if I'm not ready?” 

     “You are ready, sweet child.  I promise you. I know everything that is coming and I'll never let you out on my sight. You’ll see me at the other end of this road.”  He points to something very far away that you can't yet see. "And it is glorious. Remember Heaven, because this is your home for Eternity. Its what you'll be living for."

     And then, as you start to walk away, God knits you together inside your mother’s womb for your time on earth, where you will form and grow.  

    And then, with Jesus at His side, your Father in Heaven picks up the Book of Life and places it on a table shining with gold and rubies and emeralds.  He opens it to your special chapter and looks at the topography of the road of your life.  He records every twist and turn, your every word, and every praise.  And in the place where He finds you on a mountaintop in communion with Him, he draws a heart, and Jesus smiles. Your every thought and word has been recorded, so with his palms open and laid upon the pages of your life, He sits, and closes his eyes as a tear rolls down his face. "I'm going to miss her so much while she is gone."

    "I know Father, but she will find her way back." Jesus places a hand on His Father's shoulder. 

     The Father nods. “I know she will, and he pats Jesus' hand. "But she gets lost for quite some time and the enemy’s strongholds against this little one are great. Her life gets very dark.”  The Father pauses and another tear falls from his eye.  

     "It is because your love is so great, Father.”  The Son says as he sits beside him. The Father kisses the top of his head. "And she finds her way back because of your sacrifice from the cross.” he tells him. "It hurt me so much to watch you go through that." 

     "I know Father," Jesus responds, "But I only do what I see you do.”  Jesus adds.  

     They stay like that for a minute, then the Father says, "Let's walk." So together they exit a doorway filled with Glorious light.

   The Father smiles.  “Now my Son, what are the Angels going to sing to me today?”               

       

A Dream

      I walk down a dirt road aware that I am gloriously happy. I am wrapped in the innate awareness of God's presence which is everywhere. The trees are alive, I can see them growing and stretching their branches up toward heaven as in worship. The clouds dance and dip in the sky and I can almost touch them. I stop and breath deep, and as I take it all in, the wildflowers bloom right in front of my eyes. In the distance, here and there, I'm aware that a few people are scattered about, but there is no communication. Everyone is alone. 

     Then suddenly, something changes. It's a tangible thing that I can feel it. I stop confused. What is happening, I think, and look around. The birds have stopped singing. The breeze has stopped blowing. The clouds are still. I realize that I don't know where I'm going any more and I become anxious. I begin to walk faster and I realize that I'm carrying something and that it's getting really heavy. I look down, but I can't see what it is. "Put it down!" I hear someone yell. But even as I hear it, I hold on tighter knowing I will not put it down. What am I carrying?

     And as I move down the road things continue to change . They are subtle and quiet at first.  A shift in the sky, a movement in the meadows, but then colors grow dim, and I can see God's breath leave the trees alongside me and they wither. There brown branches hang toward the ground. The flowers in the fields beside me die, and birds begin to fall dead from the sky.  I fill with panic and begin to run. I look around but none of the people I see seem to notice what is happening.

     The sky begins to grow so dark that I'm terrified. I cry out, "Jesus! Jesus!" And somehow,  inside my dream, I am aware that Paul should be able to hear me. I want him to wake me up. "Jesus!" I scream again.

     And then,  just as suddenly as God was gone, He was back. Everything that died filled back with life again.  I watch as the the trees beside me saturate with color and reach their branches up into the heavens once again. And as I breath deep, my spirit settles inside me as meadows full of flowers blossom with glory.  Then a child appears beside me on the road and smiles. I bend down to meet her eyes. "Do I know you?" I ask her. "Not yet," she replies, "But one day you will. And everything is fine now," she tells me. "God is back."   I fall to the ground and weep happy tears and it is then that I see what I'm holding. It is my Bible. And it's not the least bit heavy. 

    And then suddenly I am awake, but the dream is still very vivid. Maybe the most vivid dream I've ever had. I sit up in bed. When Paul rolls over I reach out. "Didn't you hear me screaming?" I asked him. My heart is still racing. "You all right?" he asks me.  "Didn't you hear me screaming?" I say again. "I was screaming for Jesus."  Sleepily he pats my leg. "Sounds like you had a bad dream?"  He tells me. "You want to talk about it?" I take long slow breaths. "Not right now," I answer. "I can't believe you didn't hear me? I wanted you to wake me up."   "I'm sorry I didnt hear you." He says sleepily. "You okay?" Paul asks.  "Yes." I tell him and lay my head back onto the pillow. "I screamed Jesus's name, and God came back."     "That's good honey." Paul said as he snuggled close. "That's really good."                

Philippians 2:9-11 Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

    

         

Beautiful Bones...

      There are beautiful bones buried deep on country roads. The marrow and roots of this truth sing to me. These beautiful things, so rich behind gates made of sticks and barbed wire hold life and truth and and move something deep in me. Sometimes I just want to burrow in and disappear inside the story.

    The deep bones inside these cabins are groaning to breathe again. Broken, they have been left to linger alone but I visit them often and I hear their whispers. I think they are beautiful and I want to dig them out of the ground and take them home because I don't want them to be finished yet. I believe there should be more.
      And there are deep God bones in the trees and fields and mountains and sky of this place that lasso's my heart with a knot so tight I will never escape from the lure of their wile. And so I walk and breath and see...
     Wildflowers...sunsets...pastures sprinkled with cows and horses and babies...just give me the babies, Lord. Did you know that certain wood has a crisp golden skin that pops off of it in the Fall? 

    These quiet beautiful things settle in my spirit and sooth my soul. And in those quiet moments, everything is right in the world.
    In this place I know the majesty and glory and truth of God inside the marrow of my own fragile bones and I praise.
     I want it. I want the simple life of barbed wire sticks and keep-out gates and trees and cows and mountains and sky. I want my "road home" in all four seasons.
     Oh... if only...
     A tree, huge with roots and trunk, lay on the ground with years of seasons buried inside. It's battered and broken down by the wind. A giant wonder with a horse-shoe still tangled up in it's roots. And a tree with with white bones stuck them out for me to touch. Until that day I did not know that trees had bones.
     Today I pictured Jesus leaning against the giant tree with a smile as my rebellious spirit climbed the fence where the "Keep-out" sign was clearly posted. "Your foot is not really ready for this fence." I felt his words. But I climbed it anyway and I knew He knew I would.
     Does the idea of Jesus meeting me in the, "do-not-enter" zones help my confession that I climb the fences and push through the barb wire anyway and do not care?
    Just look at the pictures I took of the cabin. Is was worth it, don't you think? The light was amazing. And if you can, look inside the windows where ragged lace curtains hang shredded but loved. Where peeling wallpaper and dusty old broken things are stunning with their story.   
    when I walk I often think about my childhood. Of toad hopping contests and fireflies in a Miracle Whip jar by my bed. I can hear the sound of our turtles in the cardboard box scratching to get out, our nail polished initials shiny on the back of their shells.
    There was a time when glass jars of raw cows milk and fresh eggs, was set on porches by a delivery man wearing a white suit and hat. And while he did, little cowboys and Indian's used sticks for guns and arrows and their mail man walked and waved.
    That life, so quiet, so simple, so full of wonder, it simply strips me bare. It's so pure and I want it. But do I?
    Would I really be happy in the days of old? Just a simple life in the country with with sky and cow fields with furry babies? Where mountains and sunsets are not just seen on occasion, but sat with every day behind barbed-wire gates made out of logs?
      What if I had to chose? Those days or these? 

      Please don't make me. Life without the comforts of this new world I find myself in would be hard and frustrating. I would not be easy to live with, and my company would not have been good.
     But  cattails covered with snow make my breath long and slow and I can not stop the smile that comes. And mountain moons and pop-corn clouds pull my car to the side of the road and when the sky is on fire I can hardly breathe.  So I know the beautiful bones of my quiet country roads, deep and rich with the stories of a different life will always have their way with me.
     So I straddle this place. I walk the line between new and old knowing the gift and beauty of both.            But I will never stop walking my country roads and I will always see the beauty of the bones buried there. 

     And I will too dream of other roads I want to walk down. I'd love to park in a quiet place by the home of the bride of "the farmer" who writes about 1000 gifts with words that make me weep. I want her voice read me stories and see her pictures, because they will be beautiful.  
     And for the Bible teacher in Texas who moved to the country and might be my kindred...with two daughters and a long husband she loves greatly and a beautiful life redeemed. Her heart like mine has exploded in the new love of grand-babies in her arms and she had a son named Michael just like me. 

     This woman changed me deeply, and I'd love to sit on her porch and hold her hand and say nothing because it will say everything.

       So now, go find yourself a country road and look for it's beautiful bones. There are some buried on  every quiet corner under Heaven. And when you take the time to follow it, listen for your whispered name because it might tell you all it's secrets. If you're lucky, it will have a mountain on one side and a barbed-wire gate opened to a setting sun throwing shadows over a pasture with babies on the other. And then the moon will come out and you will smile.
    And another day...you'll go again because the secrets inside the beautiful bones buried there will already live inside you and you wont be able to stop yourself.

     So go. I don't want you to miss it. 

 

 

A revelation conversation...

      "Its time for me to take this whole thing off, isn't it?"  I ask Him.

      "What do you think?" He smiles.

     "I don't think it fits me right," I tell Him and tug on the side. "It's uncomfortable. It bugs me.  It has for a long time."

     He sighs, “Yes, but that happens when you try to wear someone else's clothes."

     "What do you mean?"  My voice fills with frustration.  “You gave me these clothes."

     He tilts his head. "Did I?"

     I look down. "I thought you did." I pause. “They used to fit me better, didn't they?" I hold out my arms. "I love this shoes”

     He laughs. "Yes, I know you do, but the rest of them are way too big for you little girl.  You’ve been tripping over the hem of those pants since you put them on.”

      The truth in His words sting a little.  "I know,"  I admit, “I trip over them at every turn.  And these shoes are wearing out."

     "So..."  He holds out his palms. "I think its time for you to put back on your own clothes?"

      I sink to my knees with my fists clenched.  "I really did think these clothes would fit me." I begin to cry. 

     When I finally look back up at Him I feel his great and deep love. He smiles. “I know you did, " he tells me. "And I'm going to let you keep those shoes. They're part of your story now. I want you to add them to your wardrobe."

     I am weeping. 

     He reaches down and dries my tears. 
    "Tell me something," He says after I quiet. "What do you know from this journey we are on?"  

     I close my eyes and ponder His question. 

     "I know that you speak to me.”  I tell him.   

     "Yes.”  He smiles.  “What else?"

     "I see you. I know you.”

     “Very good. You’re beginning to understand.”  He picks up both my hands in His.  “What else?”

     My eyes fill up with tears again.  "I know you pulled something out of me that I didn't know was in there?"

     "Yes!” He squeezes my hands before He lets them go.   

     I wipe my runny nose with the sleeve of my top.  
     “So I'm just suppose to forget about tracing your Glory through scripture?  After all the time I've given it. After all my hard work." 
     I stop for a moment to collect my thoughts and then, with passion I tell Him, "I'm writing again. I'm being faithful. I want to finish it!"

     He leans back and tilts His head.  "And what is it exactly that you want to finish?"

     "Why aren't you listening?" I'm shouting now. "The Glory Road.”

     For a brief moment He is silent and then He takes a deep breath and pulls me into His lap.  
     "The Glory Road" that I laid on your heart is not the formatted study that you write precious girl, that is just a tiny part of it. I want it to be about your journey. About who I am in you and who you are in me. It is about Us." 

      I begin to weep again and as He holds me I realize that my tears hold more joy than sadness.  

     "So it wasn't for nothing then? 

     He lifts my chin and looks deep into my eyes.  "It wasn't for nothing, precious child. It was for you to better understand my Glory."

     I wipe my nose again, take a deep breath, and climb down from his lap. 
     "Well...all right. It was way too hard anyway." I brush myself off and straighten. "All those computer programs, Bible apps, the commentaries, the research.” I sniffle.  “I’m happy to be done with it.”

    “Are you finished?”  He asks. 

      I nod my head and His smile diffuses me.  I sniffle again. “I'm not a Bible teacher am I?"

     "No, sweet girl, you are not.”  He pauses. "But know that I sincerely love all your questions and I love your passion and faithfulness in the study of it."  
     He takes the corner of His robe sleeve and dries my tears. “Now let me ask you something else?  Was there any joy in this challenging season?"

     I look down at the floor ashamed and humbled.  “So very much."  I say quietly. "More than I could imagine."

     He reaches down and lifts my chin again.  “And where did you find that joy?"

     I take a deep breath.  "Every day when I saw you in the sky and the mountains. In every moment that you gave me revelation. In all the beautiful pictures I took. In every word I wrote about you. In everything I painted."

     "Ahhh...that's a lot of moments of joy since that day two years ago that we talked in your car, huh?”  He smiles knowing that I am beginning to see.  

     I sniffle again.  “Yes. So very very many.”

     “So I have just one more question for you today then. What was it that you tracked through my word, stopped to photograph and paint? That thing that brought you joy? 
     “Your Glory.”  I tell him. 

     There is a long pause in our conversation as we sit, His words settling over my spirit.    

   "This talk has been good, hasn't it?  I asked him, I’m not too rebellious am I?"

     He stands up.  "Now what kind of a question is that? Didn't I just take you back through the desert with my Israelite children in your Bible study."

      I laugh and get to my feet. "Yes, you did.”  I tell him.  "You’ve seen rebellion from your children before.” 

     We stand facing one another.  “So now what?”  I ask him.

     “You tell me.”  He says.

     “I will wait and see you. I will take pictures and I will paint.”

     He stands. I know my time with Him is almost over.  "And what else will you do?"

     I pause and look at him, and suddenly I know. "And I will write about it?:

     "Yes!" His smile says it all. "You my child will write about it." A smile fills my face. 

     "The Glory Road." I say. 

     "The Glory Road Indeed."

     There's some quiet time between us, Then he says, "You want to ask me something. Go ahead." 

     My eyes fill with tears. "Will Paul get to go to Israel. It is such a desire of his heart." A tear rolls from my eyes.  
     "Oh...Yes, Paul. I love him so very much. Some of my deepest tears were cried for him. It might take time, but do you trust me?

     "Yes." I reply. "I trust you."

     He smiles, turns his back, and begins to walk away. After a few steps, I hear him shout. "I can count on you to take some pictures when you get there, Yes? And perhaps paint a few things?"        

     With tears I shout back.  "I can do that!" I tell him, "I can." 

     "And?'"

     "I'll write about!" I shout back, "I'm on The Glory Road, remember?"

     He lifts up his hand as a Goodbye. "You are indeed."

My Fathers hands...

       I want you to know that you were beside me today, Dad. Right there beside me with your hands in the bike.

     Today was bike day at an after school program where I work, called, Husky club.  And as the cast of wild things rode round the blacktop, I noticed that one of the older boys was sitting with his head hung. His bike was on the ground. I walked over. 
     "What up buddy?", I asked him.
     He looked at his bike and then at me. Pointed. The chain had come off. It was hanging loose on one side and stuck on the other. 
     "Yeah," I said, tugging on it. "It's stuck pretty good." Then I tugged it again. 

      "Don't bother," He said as he kicked the tire in frustration, "I've been messin' with it for 10 minutes. It's useless."

      I looked down at the two freshly polished fingers that I used to tug on the chain and were covered in black bike oil. And that was when I suddenly saw your hands Dad, and in my mind I was watching a movie of you fixing our bikes chains. I'd seen you do it so many times. But I'd never done it myself. .   
     "You know," I told the boy with the bike, "I have two sisters and a brother and I saw my Dad fix this kind of stuff a lot'," I knelt down beside him, "Is it okay if I try?"
     The boy nodded yes, resigned, but looked at me like I was crazy. I asked him to run inside and get me a chair from the classroom, and then sitting, I angled the bike against my leg the way you always did, Dad, then I began to move the pedal back and forth and back and forth and guided the greasy chain links back onto the teeth. I had to tug hard on it hard a couple of times, but I got it on. I actually fixed it.
     When I stood up I held my hands in front of me. They were covered with oily black bike chain goop. So much for my fresh nails I thought. 
     But the smile on the boy's face as he jumped on his bike made my hands look beautiful. "Thanks, Miss Pam!" he said as he took off across the blacktop.
      Thank you, Dad, I thought smiling as I walked inside to wash up. I had never put a chain back on a bike until today. But today my hands became yours. Efficient, dirty, and working in love.
      All those years I watched you, I had been learning something that I didn't even know I'd learned. So thanks for always fixing our stuff, Dad. And know that I really loved having you at work with me today.
     There's nothing like a Father's hands
      

     Post Script...

     After I wrote this story, I printed it out along with this photo I took. The hands in the picture are actually Paul's and Jude's, but I laminated everything and made a card for my Dad for Father's day. I had called him after I'd fixed the bike, and told him the story, but I thought he might like to have a copy of the story I wrote about it. He did.

     The next time I saw him, the card was sitting on a table by his front door. His wife told me that he'd showed it to everyone that came through their door for months after he had received the card. And it was still right there ready to be read again if anyone asked about it. 

     I had no idea when I sent it what it would mean to him, but I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him as my Dad, and I wanted him to know that I had paid attention. 

     At his funeral, I read the story out loud for the first time to an audience. I told them how much the card I sent Dad meant to him and spoke with tears in my eyes to those listening . "Please tell the people you love that you love them. Remind them of the things they did that formed you. Tell them what you learned from them because all those things matter. They matter on earth, and in Heaven. And when they're gone, it'll be too late, 

     When I finished, I looked into the audience and saw that I wasn't the only one who had tears in my eyes. So Thanks again, Dad. Thanks for always fixing our bikes.