These Hands

Sanding the primer from morning till night-
Some days it almost took all of my might.

These hands got banged up all rough and cracked-
Bleeding was normal, for these man’s hands were hacked.

These hands were used, hardened and calloused, never given time to heal-
Funny, I did this everyday all on my own will.

Never wearing gloves because I was always too proud-
The cracks in my hands spoke louder than words spoke out loud.

Proud of working hard and my check at weeks end-
Working almost double the hours of most old grown men.

Working diligently till “you can go” he was told-
His hands and fingers look all wrinkled and old.

Cars were his passion whether they were his or not-
Turning a wrench brings more satisfaction than anything he’s ever bought.

A boss that always screamed, cussed and yelled-
Yet I see him as a friend, he treated me so well.

I was taught to work hard by that slave driving fool-
Some days I felt like a work horse or mule.

Looking back, I miss it so much-
But now these hands have something new to touch.

Scriptures in hand don’t quite do the damage-
They slowly heal as he flips through the pages.

A different kind of work I’m doing these days-
Attempting to learn Spanish is a never ending maze.

Sitting in class at the Peru MTC-
Nothing quite like knowing, God is with me.

Seemingly helping me through every Espanio step-
He makes sure from me no knowledge is kept.



My boss is now my Father in Heaven-
He sure helps me through this different kind of livin.

These hands are healing and it sure makes me sad-
But I know in my heart, being here is not bad.

I took great pride in being hardened and tough-
It didn’t matter to God, he took me even though I was rough.

Like a pile of scrap that comes to the shop-
All rusted out, dirty and missing the top.

The rust sanded off, primed and sanded again-
With each step I get smooth, no matter the pain.

Before I am painted, I am scuffed one more time-
With all these steps, it makes my worth climb.

The finishing touches like chrome, trim and leather-
All of these things only make me look better.

I came to the mission all rusty and old-
But I know when I leave, my value will be worth more than gold.

The LDS Mission is certainly the refiners fire-
Who knew being brought down would only bring you higher.

These hands have a new calling that they need to uphold-
I plan on doing this till the day I get old.


Matthew Profaizer
August, 2011