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.
