A Mothers Hands

[M]

Sent to me by Doug Gettleson;

 A friend sent me an e-mail the other day that got me thinking about my mom’s hands.I am still lucky to have my mother alive at 106 years old. To all of you who still have their mothers I say Cherish them as long as you can. For those that don't, and even those who still do, maybe this E-Mail will bring back some good memories for you even if it does cause a tear in your eye.

The E-Mail Follows;

 For me, Mom’s hands are the first thing that comes to mind when I think of her. Some days I can recall them more clearly than her face. Often they were red and raw from hot dishwater, wrinkled from bath water, and they were battle-scarred from years of accidental burns from scorching skillets and hot irons. But they were the most important hands in my life and — to me — they were beautiful.

 Mom’s hands reached out from the delivery room for me and each of my six brothers and sisters in the first few moments of our life and never really let go until the day she died.

 Mom’s hands spent countless hours spoon-feeding a seemingly endless parade of babies from endless jars of Gerber strained vegetables and fruits. They changed our diapers, washed our faces, combed our hair and wiped our runny noses. They reached out and caught us when, as toddlers, we crashed to the floor while learning to walk. They held our trembling bodies when we awakened from bad dreams in the middle of the night.

 Mom’s hands dried our tears and applied Band-aids to our scraped knees and elbows. They buttoned our coats, pulled on our mittens and taught us to tie our shoes. They waved a finger an inch from our noses when we misbehaved and washed our mouths out with Ivory soap when we were disrespectful.

 Mom’s hands prepared an incalculable number of meals to feed her family. They transformed flour, sugar, spices and apples into award-winning pies.

 They took thousands of photos of birthday parties, graduations and weddings. They clapped at hundreds of plays, little league games, award ceremonies and ballet recitals. They tied bows on countless birthday and Christmas gifts.

 Mom’s hands proudly displayed her wedding ring to show the world that she had married the love of her life. They shook in fists of anger when she was hurt or angry.

 They trembled when she wrote weekly letters to my older brother serving his country in Vietnam. They folded in prayer each night before she slept. They shook when she buried a son, her parents and her baby sister.

 They eagerly turned the pages of textbooks and proudly accepted a college diploma when she attained her dream of becoming a nurse after her children were grown. They lovingly cradled each of her dozen grandchildren.

 Mom’s hands held the hands of countless relatives, friends, neighbors and patients who sought her comfort in times of need.

 When, near death, she couldn’t walk, couldn’t see and couldn’t speak, her hands could still weakly squeeze our hands in acknowledgement of our presence right up until mere hours before she died.

 And it was these same hands that God reached out and took hold of when He took her home.

 Mothers are God’s most precious and under-appreciated gift. If I were King, every day would be Mother’s Day. And I’d give anything I possess if I could, just for a moment, to hold my mom’s hands in my hands again.

 To all moms — Happy Mother’s Day.

[kevin kiernan]

Thanks for sharing this. My mind is now full of memories of so many good times.