Remembering Times With Momma

Katherine hosts this  blog hop each week   where  participants  share  their favorite things....   and  at this time of year  my favorite thing is  remembering   special times with
 my family....     times  we got together  with my parents....   my mom.....    
My parents  are in Assisted Living now and  times  together  are  so limited  by  time, space, and  ability....  

 I am so thankful that I still have both my parents...  Dad at 93 and Mom a t 89...     they are doing  pretty well considering....    but this change  takes its toll on them....   and our family is  so  spread apart....  our daughter and son-in law  live so far away,   that  great  family time together  becomes quite a challenge...   and  our family is a small one.. I being an only child  with one child....      but when we do get together  we  enjoy one another so much....
  fun meals together

 holidays


visits



 dining out


 family reunions  and picnics




and family parties

Mother’s Hands

Clasping me to her breast, I snuggled ever closer,

Completely safe in her warm embrace.

Reaching out for me as I toddled ever forward

Tucking my hand into her’s with pride and grace.

Clapping hands to ‘Three men in a Tub, rub-a-dub-dub,”

Hands that pulled me close for a rollicking hug, a giggle,  a sigh,

Intimacy with mommy, when I was five.

Splaying fingers through the dirt, ridding weeds,

Training mine to sow some seeds.

Peeling apples in one long peel, peeling ‘taters’ and ‘tomaters’,

Always peeling something that would eventually delight.

Feeding laundry through the rollers of the back porch washer,

Pinning sheets and towels on the line to dry.

Folding heaps and heaps of linens, ironing, starching, every day

Taking care of business was grueling work, with very little play.

Pinning patterns to the fabric, pinning darts here, just right,

Pinning hems and laces, designing clothes for me at night.

Traipsing fingers  along the keys, I loved to hear God’s melodies, What a Friend We Have in Jesus, Trust and Obey: so many hymns etched on my heart through the tunes that she’d play.

Loving touches only she could minister; a cool hand on my fevered brow,

a silent tummy rub when I felt ill.

An understanding pat upon on a troubled shoulder,

A gentle hug when feelings smoldered.

Making late night goodies for dad and for me,

Sometimes orange and cinnamon buns straight from an oven warm

Sometimes it was popcorn all buttery and fresh,

But always it was homemade things she’d learned growing up on the farm.

Loving hands that tucked me into bed each night,

Then folded into prayer, teaching me to trust in God

To give Him all my cares.

Holding her Bible in deep, reverent study,

Demonstrating her need to know more of Her Lord.

Leading her study group on Sunday morning

Pointing out truths, a divine smorgasboard.

All of these things done by the power within her

Sharing God’s love deep within her He’d poured.

When I was growing older we’d place our hands before us.

I’d marvel how wondrously they were alike: a fine treasure,

I declared, “I have my mother’s hands” with pride and pleasure.

That thought always spurred me on to demonstrate the memory

Through the service of my own hands -the bliss her hands had always wrought.

Whenever through the hard tasks I trod to make a house a home,

My hands have played the integral part- shadows of mother’s hands I’ve known.

Now whene’er we place our hands before us I almost shudder at what I see. Gnarly, withered, and arthritic, fingers worn are they,

yet they reach out for mine in love’s pure grasp display.

I am just so glad that I still can cling to those hands and with our heads bent close, recount the tales of old, of days gone by, memories cherished in the heart!.

Proverbs 31:31 Give her the reward she has earned,
       and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.