Growing up my dad had a nickname, “Andy the Handyman.” He fixed our toys, unclogged drains, and mended our purses. He even stretched our shoes when we needed him to!
I’ll never forget the red toolbox. It’s almost as though it was a part of him, the way mom’s purse was a part of her. Whether he was travelling to and from home, or just tinkering around the house, he carried it often. Pulling out one tool for this, and another for that he kept our home safe and secure.
If it was broken, we took it to dad and he fixed it. Mom’s pot had a wooden spool for a handle, the rolling pin had a new dowel put in, and way back in the day he hung up a cardboard door in their bedroom.
If something was torn, Mom would mend it–if a button popped off, she would fix it.
Money was scarce for a while, but one thing that never changed is that they valued the things that they owned.
Clothes were passed down from one girl to the next, and if they weren’t in style we got on our sewing machines where we made a few changes. Being the youngest, it’s no wonder I sewed as much as I did.
Watching the Carol Burnett show with light bulbs in hand, we darned socks. Yes–with a light bulb, a needle and thread.
If it was broken, we fixed it. That was their motto.
It was comforting to see them at work, but more important than watching them care for our home, we witnessed the way that they cared for each other.
During those formative years we learned the importance of commitment and stewardship. We learned that a vow was a vow.
During good times and bad, they exercised patience, forgiveness, and grace. Sure there were days like anyone else when the going was tough, but giving up wasn’t an option. They worked together to work things out and weathered each storm that blew through.
Mom and Dad held onto the promise, “til death do us part.” And during that moment of silence when he took his last breath, they were still holding on to each other.
You are loved by an almighty God,