My wife does not have pretty hands

 

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They are worn and torn

They are rough and tough

They are the result of years of caring for others

rather than for themselves

They are hands that have healed and bandaged

Hands that have raised and encouraged

They are the remnants of work, toil, passion, and love.

They feed, they clothe, they endure the mortal shift

They push, they pull, but always higher and higher they lift

 

Oh no, my wife does not have pretty hands

Without a doubt at one point they started that way

But, they pay the cost for the treasures they’ve built

They pay the cost every single day

 

My wife’s hands are strong, they are clever.

They are not afraid of the day’s required, never.

They are able and they never rest

The things it touches are always blessed

 

Some wives hands are pretty, but not mine

I hold them dearly and lift them for others to see

Do not hide these hands and what they have done,

They have great works yet to do and greater hands to be

 

They will never be called pretty like hands that have remained idle

Hands that have never sacrificed or been afraid of duty

My wife’s hands will be honored by the people it has served

Most of all my children, and even more by me

–Jan 10,2014

 

Andrew's 4th Birthday Party 2012-01-14 005

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