Power Tools

He hit the nail square and hard, three swings and it was in. I was amazed. He moved on to the next nail as I stared with mouth open.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that I first handed him a hammer, sacrificing my own fingers to hold his nails straight? Didn’t I just wipe the tears of frustration and help pull out crooked nails? All that I was told said he was too young; too young for real tools…they have some nice pretend sets you know…but we were both desperate for more.
And now I watched with pride that was instantly humbled.

This was his deal, I merely gave him the tools. How many nails had he hammered on his own…and missed and pulled out and straightened…and hammered again?  How many sore thumbs and slivers? All this shaping him beyond what I could keep up with…

…and now he was holding nails for his little brother; sacrificing his own fingers to hold nails straight, and helping his little sister put her ideas together.

Showing how, quiet and kind; with just a hammer and a nail.