God is kind to his children.
He is the kind of Father who keeps track of details. The kind of Father who crafts gifts that speak individually to the hearts of his kids. When he blesses you, it reveals a love that is personal, a love from a person that knows who you are.
This is Gabe, and to tell the story of Maniago, I'll need to rewind a couple decades to tell you a little about my Grandpa Duane:
My Grandpa is a hero. He has jumped from a Coast Guard ships in an absolute gale and swam through 20+ foot swells to save people's lives, but he would rarely tell you so. He'd prefer to serve YOU - stuff your face with ice cream and cookies, pour you a tall glass of milk, and sit you down to hear about how you are doing and what's going on in your life.
About 2 decades ago Grandpa gave me my first knife, and he took great care to show me how to take care and maintain it, avoid hurting myself with it, and somewhere along the way he conveyed to me a little truth about being a man; about having power to do damage or do good, about choosing to use your ability to serve, help, and protect others.
In spite of the fact that I went home from that noble lesson and promptly sliced my finger open trying to chop leaves off of a tree, both the principles he taught me and an appreciation for pocket knives have never left me.
Through the years, I've bought and sold countless blades, and endeavored to pass on the lessons he taught me to other young men. Most recently in my pursuit of that passion, I ran a small business to repair, sharpen, and customize pocket knives.
Coming to Thailand last year to teach, I needed to put that hobby on hold, and while I was ok with that, I have also missed it very often.
My absolute favorite brand of knives is called LionSteel. They are based in Italy and when I found out we were coming to Venice, I thought I'd see how far away their factory would be.
The factory was an hour and forty minutes from where we were staying and despite my constant comments of "Well... We don't have to go...", my wonderful wife saw through it all and said "But honey, this would really bless your heart wouldn't it? Come on, let's try!"
In her determination, she pressed on, even through a series of mishaps as we rescheduled our trip to fit around Burma, missed our flight due to strikes in Germany, arrived in Venice too late to make it to the factory, and had to delay going to Rome until after the weekend just to make it work!
After delays upon delays, a train ride, a bus ride, and a short walk through town with our monstrous backpacks, we found ourselves in the beautiful town of Maniago. Weaving our way past ancient abandoned forges and factories, we walked the almost completely unmarked path to LionSteel, sitting right at the edge of the Dolomites (beautiful green and gray mountains, the Alps of Northern Italy).
In the chaos of the last few days we'd not been able to contact Gianni, the owner and make sure our rescheduled visit would work out, so at the front door we had a moment of "Well, I hope we didn't come all this way for nothing!" but before we knew it we had been ushered in, given real Italian Cappucinos and been told to wait a moment. In about 15 minutes Gianni came out and said "Wow, it looks like you've come a long way, I have 2 hours for you - what do you want to see?"
He proceeded to literally give us the knife-factory tour of my dreams, starting with inviting us into his office to tell us the history of how he and his father built the company, the changes that have taken place over the years, and his dreams for the future. He let us watch the machines and workers craft metal into beautiful and precise blades and handles, and showed us prototypes of upcoming models (even some that will be featured in Hollywood Action films not yet released!).
He concluded the tour by letting me ask as many nerdy knife questions as I wanted, and then throwing our backpacks in his car and personally driving us across town to show us their second factory, and then dropping us off at the knife museum in town.
The museum was closed, so Gianni made a few calls, and before long a museum attendant had opened up the locked doors and proceeded to give us a personal tour through the completely empty museum!
Afterward, Dani asked me "How are you doing?"
"I am doing awesome", I replied, "It's kind of like the Lord saved up all the blessing that I gave up by choosing not to run the knife business this year, and then just dumped it all out on me in a concentrated dose in the span of about 3 hours!!!"
And in the legacy of my Grandpa, the determination of my wife to honor my passions, the amazing generosity of Gianni and the folks at LionSteel, and in one beautiful Italian day, I see the Lord's kindness toward me.
So much more than he had to give. So specific to who I am. And I just have to say, "Thanks Dad, that was better than I ever imagined!"
- Gabe
He is the kind of Father who keeps track of details. The kind of Father who crafts gifts that speak individually to the hearts of his kids. When he blesses you, it reveals a love that is personal, a love from a person that knows who you are.
This is Gabe, and to tell the story of Maniago, I'll need to rewind a couple decades to tell you a little about my Grandpa Duane:
My Grandpa is a hero. He has jumped from a Coast Guard ships in an absolute gale and swam through 20+ foot swells to save people's lives, but he would rarely tell you so. He'd prefer to serve YOU - stuff your face with ice cream and cookies, pour you a tall glass of milk, and sit you down to hear about how you are doing and what's going on in your life.
About 2 decades ago Grandpa gave me my first knife, and he took great care to show me how to take care and maintain it, avoid hurting myself with it, and somewhere along the way he conveyed to me a little truth about being a man; about having power to do damage or do good, about choosing to use your ability to serve, help, and protect others.
In spite of the fact that I went home from that noble lesson and promptly sliced my finger open trying to chop leaves off of a tree, both the principles he taught me and an appreciation for pocket knives have never left me.
Through the years, I've bought and sold countless blades, and endeavored to pass on the lessons he taught me to other young men. Most recently in my pursuit of that passion, I ran a small business to repair, sharpen, and customize pocket knives.
Coming to Thailand last year to teach, I needed to put that hobby on hold, and while I was ok with that, I have also missed it very often.
My absolute favorite brand of knives is called LionSteel. They are based in Italy and when I found out we were coming to Venice, I thought I'd see how far away their factory would be.
The factory was an hour and forty minutes from where we were staying and despite my constant comments of "Well... We don't have to go...", my wonderful wife saw through it all and said "But honey, this would really bless your heart wouldn't it? Come on, let's try!"
In her determination, she pressed on, even through a series of mishaps as we rescheduled our trip to fit around Burma, missed our flight due to strikes in Germany, arrived in Venice too late to make it to the factory, and had to delay going to Rome until after the weekend just to make it work!
After delays upon delays, a train ride, a bus ride, and a short walk through town with our monstrous backpacks, we found ourselves in the beautiful town of Maniago. Weaving our way past ancient abandoned forges and factories, we walked the almost completely unmarked path to LionSteel, sitting right at the edge of the Dolomites (beautiful green and gray mountains, the Alps of Northern Italy).
In the chaos of the last few days we'd not been able to contact Gianni, the owner and make sure our rescheduled visit would work out, so at the front door we had a moment of "Well, I hope we didn't come all this way for nothing!" but before we knew it we had been ushered in, given real Italian Cappucinos and been told to wait a moment. In about 15 minutes Gianni came out and said "Wow, it looks like you've come a long way, I have 2 hours for you - what do you want to see?"
He proceeded to literally give us the knife-factory tour of my dreams, starting with inviting us into his office to tell us the history of how he and his father built the company, the changes that have taken place over the years, and his dreams for the future. He let us watch the machines and workers craft metal into beautiful and precise blades and handles, and showed us prototypes of upcoming models (even some that will be featured in Hollywood Action films not yet released!).
He concluded the tour by letting me ask as many nerdy knife questions as I wanted, and then throwing our backpacks in his car and personally driving us across town to show us their second factory, and then dropping us off at the knife museum in town.
The museum was closed, so Gianni made a few calls, and before long a museum attendant had opened up the locked doors and proceeded to give us a personal tour through the completely empty museum!
Afterward, Dani asked me "How are you doing?"
"I am doing awesome", I replied, "It's kind of like the Lord saved up all the blessing that I gave up by choosing not to run the knife business this year, and then just dumped it all out on me in a concentrated dose in the span of about 3 hours!!!"
And in the legacy of my Grandpa, the determination of my wife to honor my passions, the amazing generosity of Gianni and the folks at LionSteel, and in one beautiful Italian day, I see the Lord's kindness toward me.
So much more than he had to give. So specific to who I am. And I just have to say, "Thanks Dad, that was better than I ever imagined!"
- Gabe
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