At the funeral for my mother, my sister,
Barbara, brought a beautiful book that she
placed by the sign in book. It was a Readers
Digest book that had been glazed in gold. It
sat on a stand opened to a page that had a woman
sitting crocheting in a picture on one side, and
this verse on the other:
I do remember Mama's hands
Through in two entirely different ways
The stone garden wall still stands
That she put up those warm spring days
She dug the weeds and canned our food
Split the wood and steadied the plow,
Always with a sunny cheerful mood.
Yes, strong hands as I look back now
Still, I look at this delicate quilt,
That's kept me warm many a night,
Different things, those hands built.
Thinking thirsty, other things come to light.
A gentle touch for the hurts of childhood,
Patient hands to teach and make me see,
Loving hands to show me that I could,
In short, everything that makes me~me.
Thank you Mama, for the hands of life,
Always soft and tough, ever gentle and strong,
Pushing me along through woes and strife.
Hands did all right, never wrong.
Have moved the Firemen's Page to Its Own Web Site
--See Link on My Links Page
To see family photos etc. go to--
"SPECIAL LINKS" on "Links" page
Search Net Using Yahoo's Search Engine
Send this site to a friend!
Enter friend's email address:
Return to Top of Page?
This site is managed by~