Jan
7
2019
Made With Love
Posted in Daily Living 4 Comments
He told me about his idea.
He showed me the plans.
The plans meant nothing to me in a technical sense.
The plans meant everything to me in an emotional sense.
My husband loves to woodwork as a hobby.
He has an extensive workshop in the unfinished part of our basement.
I enjoy hearing the hum of the machines when he is in the midst of a project.
I had not heard that hum for a while.
The plans he showed me were for a project for our granddaughter.
It will be her Christmas present, he told me.
He couldn’t wait to get started.
Knowing the things he has already made for me and our children, I knew it would be wonderful.
He bought the wood.
He made a template of the design.
He set to work, making each piece with precision.
It would be assembled much later; for now I had to use my imagination.
All through the month when he first began, he worked on it.
I would hear his saw.
I would hear his sander.
I would hear his voice, Want to come see it so far?
I was beckoned many times to see the progress.
Each time I was amazed.
I was looking at parts of the whole.
I was finishing the project in my mind’s eye.
She’s going to love it, he said over and over.
It was truly a labor of love.
Anything for his granddaughter.
I intend to make something for all our grandchildren, he said.
He wanted me to go to the store with him to choose paint colors.
I knew that he wanted to get gray and yellow paint.
My oldest daughter said, Go with him, Mom, or he will pick yellow like the lines on the road.
Not long after she made that comment, we went to the store to choose the paint.
We got to the paint department and looked at all the paint samples.
Right away, my husband chose a bright yellow, much like our daughter said he would.
No, something much more subtle, I said trying to be gentle.
A soft yellow was chosen along with the gray color that was much easier to select.
He told me that it was a multi-step process.
He would have to sand the wood.
I want it nice and smooth for her little hands, he said.
After sanding, there would be multiple coats of paint, to make it last, he informed me.
Christmas could not come fast enough for him.
The finished gift was hidden in his workshop.
The big reveal would be after all the presents were opened.
With our large family, that takes quite a while.
He planned on announcing: There is one more gift of Christmas.
How we imagine something is never quite the way it happens.
Our sweet little granddaughter was wonderful through all the gift exchanging.
She got hungry; it was time for lunch in the highchair.
My husband looked at me as if to ask, What should I do?
I gave him a look that conveyed my answer without saying a word.
The kind of look that husbands and wives know intuitively after living together for so long.
OK, Mom says I should do this now, so everybody in the kitchen.
They all talked among themselves as they walked from the living room to the kitchen.
Are they moving? Is Dad retiring? Were some of the questions I heard.
Don’t worry. It’s nothing like that, I said trying to assure them.
They all gathered around the farm table; our granddaughter loved that she had an audience.
My husband came up from the basement with the gift in his hands.
He ceremonially placed it on the long farm table.
There were oohs and aahs; our granddaughter kicked her legs in excitement.
There sat the rocking elephant ready for our sweet granddaughter to enjoy.
Our granddaughter loves elephants.
My oldest daughter crocheted an elephant lovey for her.
I bought an elephant soft toy that she loves, especially since she is getting teeth.
This rocking elephant was perfect.
After she was cleaned up from lunch, the elephant was carried in the living room.
My husband put it next to the tree.
My daughter put her little girl on the elephant that Pop-Pop made.
My husband rocked it ever so gently.
She laughed with delight.
Her little legs kicked in excitement.
She grabbed the little cutouts on the ears that fit her hands so perfectly.
I looked at my husband; he was beaming.
Jesus left there and went to his hometown, accompanied by his disciples. When the Sabbath came, he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were amazed. “Where did this man get these things?” they asked. “What’s this wisdom that has been given him? What are these remarkable miracles he is performing? Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home.” He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them. He was amazed at their lack of faith. (Mark 6:1-6)
Jesus was a carpenter.
Jesus probably watched Joseph who did carpentry for people in the town.
We forget that Jesus, the Son of God made things out of wood.
We forget that Jesus, the One who created everything, worked with His hands.
For the people whose eyes, ears, and hearts were not open, Jesus was just a carpenter.
To those same people, Jesus was just a carpenter’s son.
To those people, Jesus was just someone they knew; someone who grew up among them.
For us who believe, Jesus, the Carpenter, is our Lord and Savior.
What a talented and thoughtful PopPop ! The love that he poured onto this precious gift is sure to be a treasure much loved. Blessings to your loving family.
Thank you, Linda!
It was truly a wonderful gift.
Now the rocking elephant is in their home being enjoyed by our sweet granddaughter.
Gina
What a wonderful present. When my first child was born, my brother surprised me with a handmade cradle. I used it for all of my boys when they came home from the hospital. It was one of the best gifts I had ever received. So much heart involved in the giving of and receiving of these gifts. I love the elephant. May God richly bless the little ones that sit on it.
Janis,
Gifts made with love are a treasure. Gifts made with love bless those around us and those beyond us. They are true generational gifts. How blessed you are to have such a precious gift from your brother. These gifts tell a story. Blessings, friend.
Gina