The other day I looked at Mike’s hands and noticed that they are pretty weathered from all the hard work he does on a daily basis. “Who needs gloves?” he jests when I mention that he consider them for things like yard work or WINTER! He just isn’t so-inclined and that has left his well-used hands showing a year or two, that’s for sure. But as I looked at all those deepening nooks and crannies that give his handy hands so much character, I also had another thought…
These hands, were the first so full of love, to touch our children. Sure, some doctor or nurse edged them out in the middle of surgery, but those hands didn’t love our kids, or anxiously await their arrival or wonder what it would be like to hold them, boy or girl, in their arms. Their daddy’s hands did. They waited patiently, never feeling a kick or shuffle from the inside to let them know just what was really around the corner. They opened wide at each arrival of our three beautiful gifts and brought them right to their mommy (who finally got the good drugs once the babe was out) to say a drowsy first “hello.” What a good daddy.
There really is no way I could have dreamed anything bigger or better or more boundless than the love I know Mike has for our kids. He works tirelessly to give us everything we need and bring us to better places in life. He operates with the much needed patience of a saint when mine is tapped out. He knows when to laugh to break the tension. He is good to the core, never thinking a bad thought about another human being unless they really (and I mean really) deserve it. I have always wanted to be more like him, this man of true blue character and I still feel that way so many years later. He is just plain good. And our kids feel it and emulate it, thanks to him.
As a stay-at-home-mom, I miss out on the opportunity to walk in the door at the end of a long day and have the room erupt in cheers and excitement. I rarely experience my children jump and almost fly to me as I walk in the door, but Mike does. Even Finn searches out his truck from a family room window each night at dinner time and announces “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!” well before the girls, the dog and I have a clue. It’s unanimous; he’s just so great to have around. His absence is discussed as soon as the kids wake, “Is Daddy at work or the gym?” and felt greatly when it extends anything beyond the norm. His arrival home is always cause for celebration; there is just no better Daddy for us.
The four of us are blessed beyond belief to have this wonderful man and his weathered hands at the helm of our ship. Happy Father’s Day, Mike. Thanks for steering and for the wonderful father you are!