I compared my hands to the hands of my mother as she lay dying unexpectedly. Our hands were similar in shape and size but hers were much softer. Not because she didn’t work hard; she was one of the hardest working moms I knew holding down 2 to 3 jobs and then working at home as a seamstress, bookkeeper or repairing people’s cherished dolls.
I believe her hands were softer because she did not let the difficulties of life harden her heart. She was a farmer’s daughter, she had watched two of her little sisters die, as a young bride her husband went to war and probably hardest of all she and my dad buried two sons who dies in their twenties.
Unlike me she did not show anger or lack of faith. She knew God would hold her up. The events of her life softened her heart, hands, mind and soul. She welcomed everyone into our home- messy or not. Let’s face it with seven kids running amok our home was messy most of the time. She took care of the seven of us and sometime a niece or nephew. There was no bounds to the love she could share. In her life it was the people and relationships that were most cherished.
At her funeral I likened her life to that of the Apostle Paul’s in Philippians 4:11-13.
“I am not saying this because I am in need for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all things through him who gives me strength.
My mother was content and she relied on God’s strength. It’s not that she didn’t have dreams or desires, goals that weren’t shared. I know she did and most of them were for the lives of her children, grand children and the generations that will follow. It didn’t matter what came up in her life whether pains or joys her faith was steadfast and in that she was content.
When I come to my death I hope my children and grandchildren will remember a soft heart and soft hands of service.
This poem I wrote for my mom, Aggie, when I was in high school- even now it is my tribute to her.
MOMS
There is an intensity in a mother’s love for her child.
She would give her very life that he might live.
There is a softness on a mother’s face
as she gently nurses her child
Teaching him the ways of man and of God.
There is strength in a mother’s embrace, shielding from enemies her family.
There is turmoil in a mother’s embrace when it’s time to say good-bye.
And there is peace, always peace when she holds her children near.
There is not a day that goes by that I don’t hear her voice in my head. I miss her everyday.
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