Small Hands, Big Heart

I remember when my daughter was a toddler.

"Small hands for a guy."

I heard it so many times,
it made me want
to scream in frustration.

God never built me
big and strong
like other men,
who could lift
and carry and build
and arm wrestle
and work all day in the sun.

I tried to equalize,
make up the difference
with weights and
running and attitude
and just plain
out thinking mindless brutes.

I tried to be everything
I was never made to be,
and always found myself
feeling smaller
at the end of the day,
until Emily's whole hand
grasped my index finger
for a walk through the park.

My daughter told me,
in the way only she has,
"God made your finger
perfect sized for me
to hold onto.
If it were too big,
I couldn't
keep track of you."