The Comfort In My Mama’s Hands

I don’t need to tell you that mothers matter. Nor do I need to remind you how important you are to your children, although I will. Your child’s development is a responsibility that falls heavily upon your shoulders even though it is a welcomed and precious weight. If your children are very young you may not think they will remember the many things you do, but they will. I’ve been thinking about my mother’s hands and all the things they did that were the foundation for my life. And so I share with you . . .

My Mama’s Hands

Mama’s hands were not adorned with rings and things,
Or colored nails all shiny bright.

They rolled out dough to make us pies,
And filled small bits of flaky crusts
We ate when home from school.

They dug in dirt and planted seeds.
They picked up tiny bugs and worms,
And pointed out the different flowers
And living things.

Beneath the spreading Walnut tree
They helped us make
Toy-shovel roads,
Beside our hose-filled pond.

From library trips
They held her books.
And carried ours,
When we were tired,
Those joyous stacks to read and read.

They made our dinner
Night after night,
And carefully put Dad‘s aside,
To keep it warm,
Come late from work.

They sat beside us patiently,
Teaching us
To write the words,
Quizzing us with spelling lists,
And flash card facts.

They washed our clothes,
And hung them out
On sunlit lines stretched in the yard,
Then brought them in and ironed them,
Accompanied by her whistling song.

At the table after school
These hands lay still,
While we shared about our lives
And she shared hers.

They took our hands and walked with us
And prayed with us,
And gave to us,
Verses and poems to memorize.

They patted us,
To help us sleep,
Or when we were sad,
Or just to say,
You are so loved.

My Mama’s hands

My mother lived from 1907-1993.
In this picture, she cradles
my infant son in her hands.