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Mama's Hands, by Becky Parker

wood pile, image by LUM3N, on Pixabay

Mama’s Hands

I looked at Mama’s hands, all callous and rough From hauling in coal and wood every day

To heat our house and cook our food

I looked at her hands, raised to God in prayer

In the night for some poor soul

I looked at her hands, holding her Bible

Lovingly caressing the pages she could no longer see

I looked at her hands and felt her hugs, her eyes warm

As she reached for me

And I thank God for His majestic gift

Of the love she showed to me and the lessons she taught

About forgiveness, about mercy, about faith, about perseverance

I miss my mama, Lillie Mae, for God called her home.

My memories of her are more precious than onyx or stone

I know somewhere high above me, far into the galaxy

God himself is looking at Mama’s hands and smiling.

Those hands are now holding little babies, pruning her flowers, and crafting love

Those hands are reaching out to others with one of her famous hugs

Those hands are lifted high in heaven, eternally praising the Father

And one day I will get to see her and hold those hands...


Becky Parker lives in Tennessee. She enjoys hearing a tall tale, “glamping” with her husband, DIY projects, gardening, and spending time with her family.

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I love the tenderness and the gratefulness of this touching poem.

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