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.