Saturday, May 10, 2014

Happy MOther's Day

Click the here to return to  How Sweet the Sound and  Beverly's   Pink Saturday.  It doesnt really feel too much like Mother's Day...
 even though today all three of the main women in our family are mothers.   My wonderful mother  is 91  and living  under Hospice care  in  a  nursing facility....  it is heart breaking to see her in  such  decline.... she weighs  85 pounds now.  Tomorrow I am taking  a Mother's day  church service  to her...   I    am singing   ( with a  wee  change in the  lyrics)
Faith of our mothers, living still

In cradle song and bedtime prayer;
In nursery lore and fireside love,
Thy presence still pervades the air:
Faith of our mothers, living faith!
We will be true to thee to death.

Faith of our mothers, loving faith,

Fount of our childhood’s trust and grace,
Oh, may thy consercration prove
Source of a finer, nobler race:
Faith of our mothers, living faith,
We will be true to thee till death.

Faith of our mothers, guiding faith,

For youthful longing, youthful doubt,
How blurred our vision, blind our way,
Thy providential care without:
Faith of our mothers, guiding faith,
We will be true to thee till death.

Faith of our mothers, Christian faith,

Is truth beyond our stumbling creeds,
Still serve the home and save the Church,
And breathe thy spirit through our deeds:
Faith of our mothers, Christian faith!
We will be true to thee till death.

I am so thankful that I still have mom with us ...  Dad  passed away at Christmas , after 70 years of marriage, mom just hasnt been the same.  
Our only daughter, Amanda  became a mommie  this  past year....   what a  wonderful joy that is in our lives.
the only problem is  they live so far away, but they're coming next weekend!   Rejoicing!!!!
    I think back over the last time we were together

  Mom, Amanda and Birdie were together after dad's funeral. 
 When I see mom's hands today,  they  are so frail,,,   if only they  talk and tell me their story.  They'd say...
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. 


  1. Happy Pink Saturday, my dear Carolyn. I am feeling weepy around this Mother's Day, too. My mother is doing okay, but she has dementia. I am feeling very sentimental and thoughtful about days past and days ahead. I wish you a Mother's Day filled with many of the treasured memories you share. And, next week you will have your hands on your precious grandchild.

    I am so glad you joined us this weekend. Thank you for always making Pink Saturdays special.♥ Sending love from me to you.

    1. Beverly, I am feeling your heart in your response... I know that feeling so well... MY thoughts and prayer are with you over this weekend... and pray that our mothers are reveling in the love that we all share with them... and know the wonderful peace of the Lord!

  2. just beautiful! i know you'll have a wonderful worship service with MJ tomorrow. and we'll all be together next week!

    we love you! happy, happy mother's day!

  3. just beautiful! i know you'll have a wonderful worship service with MJ tomorrow. and we'll all be together next week!

    we love you! happy, happy mother's day!


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