Momma’s Hands

Momma's hands

I wrote this poem for my Mom to celebrate her 50th wedding anniversary .  I thought it appropriate to share for Mother’s Day.  I miss her so much, and still find myself comparing my hands with the memory of hers.

Momma’s Hands

I remember being young
Grasping Momma’s hands in mine
Pondering and wondering
And comparing them to mine

She didn’t care for painted nails
Or other fads of youth
Hard work and time had modified
Her hands, once soft and smooth

I remember watching her
While fervently, she’d try
With ready, eager, willing hands
Her family’s needs to supply

Momma’s hands were busy
Momma’s hands were filled
With kids to feed, and house to clean
Momma’s hands were skilled

Bandaging scrapes and scratches
Hugging the hurts away
Brushing our hair, spanking our butts
Preparing meals each day.

Of all the things that I recall
Of Momma’s hands, I’ll share
My favorite memory of all, is
Those hands–folded reverently, in prayer

Momma’s hands personified
The yearning of Momma’s heart
To serve her Lord and family
God’s love to them impart

Now, Momma’s hands are older, still
And here, myself, I find
Pondering and wondering,
And comparing them to mine

Lyn H
January, 2005

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By New Things Posted in Poetry

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