style of a carpenter

Today I spent the day with Grampy Perry. We were making somehing in his workshop, something I had an idea for and knew he could help change it from an idea in my head to something polished and smooth in my hands because, like Jesus, he's a carpenter.
Grampy took me to Wendy's for lunch and we both ordered cheeseburgers and french fries and I had some chili too, and we got the senior discount. We sat at a booth and he told me stories about when he was my age, except he was my age during a war and was fixing broken fighter planes in Canada, and in Holland and England and France. And I'm not sure things were actually all that different, except he was probably a great deal more responsible than I and probably has a greater appreciation for life and family and God, but then, I've experienced some of the brutalities and lonlinesses of war too - a different sort of war though.
What I mean when I say things weren't all that different is that he had friends and adventures and hopes and dreams, his heart beat quickened at the thoughts of romance, and he got caught off guard every once in a while with tears in his eyes when he realized the hurt in this world and the healing grace of God.
My favorite part of today was watching Grampy work in his workshop. He does it so effortlessly, with such an appealing style. such a desirable pace. Grampy lives hastelessly, which is to say he doesn't rush through one moment in order to get to the next. He's one of the only people in the world who actually drives the speed limit, which is evidence, I think, that he is not hurried or anxious, his heart is at rest - at rest in Christ according the prayer he prayed over our burgers.
Watching his leathery hands take some scraps of wood and shape them into something beautiful, valuable, special made me want to live more like him - with the same style, the same pace, the same rest.