My Daddy

My Daddy was a fix-it man,
Who loved to fix things with his hands.
He'd whistle tunes as he would putter,
Amid his tools and work bench clutter.

Fixing everything he could,
When he was done it all worked good.
But then, one morning, the angels came.
Daddy was gone, things weren't the same.

There would always be an empty spot where
A man once whistled, and worked, and cared.
We miss him and our hearts are hurting.
But, there's one thing we know, for certain.

Someday, we'll be together, again.
But, only Jesus will know when.
Many times I sit and ponder
And, as I sit, my heart grows fonder.

For, knowing Daddy like I do,
I'll bet he works in Heaven, too.
'Cause Daddy loved to putts around
And I'll bet that he can be found ...

On Heaven's Special Maintenance Crew;
That group of men who always do
The things that must be done to see
That Heaven functions perfectly.

He might be fixing angels wings
Or shaping halos into rings,
Rewiring stars so they will twinkle,
Repuffing clouds so they're not wrinkled ...

Polishing the Eastern Star
Or tuning up Saint Peter's car,
Making sure the rainbows bend,
Then painting them from end to end ...

Fixing everything he can,
Giving everyone a hand.
There's one thing that I know for certain,
He's whistling tunes as he is working ...

Keeping busy while he waits
For us to enter Heaven's gates.