February 3: Hands

This was a weird one, well maybe not as weird as tomorrow when I have to take a picture of a stranger. Anyways, I thought it was a weird one until tonight when I had my grandma and grandpa vyn and my grandpa Voortman (Yes, like the cookies) in my house.

Then

I got an idea - in the same room where three men (my two grandfathers and my dad) in my life who have built successful businesses from the ground up, their hands aren't the nicest (lets face it they will never be hand models) they are well used - and used for good. They are hands that have dug ditches, held new borns, baked cookies, placed bandaids on wounds, walked me across streets. They are hands that have seen pain and hardship, they are hands that have raised children who have raised grandchildren, they are hands that I love to hold scars, wrinkles and all.

My dad started his own real estate company last year and I am SO proud. The missing pinki is due to a run in with a horse - yes a horse bit off his finger when he was 13, he always says he is HANDicapped, my dad thinks he's funny. (he is) 

Also, my parents have been married for 25 years which is an honourable thing in this day and age, it is sad to think that there won't be many 25 year anniversaries in my generation 

These are the hands that started, yes started, Voortman cookies. My grandpa Voortman has one of the most generous and warm hearts and he is always looking out for others in need around him. 

These hands belong to my grandpa vyn, there are no words to describe how important he is in my life. These hands built a construction company that is a well oiled machine still to this date (pun intended). He finds so much joy in his work that it has been a struggle to get him to retire (still hasn't and he is 70) and that to me is honorable - age isn't holding him back from doing what he is so proud to do.