Mama's Hands

It's Mother's Day weekend.   As the saying goes "Not everyone is a Mom, but everyone had a Mom".

I'm doubly blessed as I am also a Mom.  However, almost 5 years ago,  I became a mom-in-law and  2 1/2 years ago I joined the world of grandparenting - so one might say I am quadruply blessed.  Regardless of how you count, I am thankful that God allows me the privilege and honor to fill all these 'mom' roles.

This is the 8th Mother's Day without my Mama on this side of Heaven.   I don't just miss her on Mother's Day, I miss her EVERY day.  There is not a day goes by she does not come to my mind - by something that is said, something that is remembered, a smell….there is always something.

Mama was number 6 of 8 children and was only 5 years old when her own Mom died.  Mama grew up around Stratford, OK (as did my Daddy). My Daddy told me one time that the first time he saw my Mama he thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.  He married that pretty girl in 1940.  Together they raised 4 girls, an abundance of cows, chickens, pigs, gardens, hay, cotton, peanuts, cats, dogs, and a host of other farm related animals and crops over a span of 50 plus years.  In addition, for the most of those 50 years, they also had a dairy and sold the milk to Kraft for the making of cheese (FYI - this kind of dairy operation is totally unheard of today).  I grew up drinking raw milk, eating real butter made from raw milk, eating eggs from farm raised chickens, eating farm raised beef and chickens, and eating vegetables from the yearly plentiful garden.   Not to mention all the watermelons and cantaloupes that were grown as well!  I grew up organically - it's just that, at the time, the word 'organic' wasn't a 'buzz' word related to how you ate;  it was a way of life!

(Not to overlook nor understate the importance of my Daddy, but today is focused on Mama.  Father's Day is coming soon :).

Aside from working all the daily farm and dairy related chores (which by the way, milk cows don't know about vacations), Mama cooked 3 full meals a day (everything made from scratch),  kept a household going, and in her spare time she sewed.  And she sewed beautifully; whether it was clothes you wore or quilts that were made to keep you warm.  (Someday maybe I'll tell you about the feedsack quilts and dresses. Feedsacks weren't always paper - when I was growing up they were cloth.)

I never really began to fully appreciate how hard my Mama worked, how much she sacrificially gave, how much she unconditionally loved her family, until I was married and became a Mom myself.  And the older I get, the more appreciative (and humbled) I become and the more I love my Mama.  In no way am I attempting to try to compare myself to my own Mama - I'll never measure up.  My precious Mama, this beloved Mamaw to her grand and great grandchildren, the mother-in-law who knew no difference between her own children/grandchildren and their spouses, loved, I mean LOVED her family.  Until the day she died at 90 years young - she loved and continually nurtured her family.  Mama was the encourager.  Mama was the one who prayed for her family daily and directed our paths to find God in everything.  Mama was the one who made sure we were never hungry and always clothed.  Mama was the one who showed us how to love unconditionally.  Mama was the one who unselfishly and with 'til death do us part and in sickness and in health love' took care of my Daddy's every need 24/7 (after having a stroke) the last 5 years of his life on earth.  Mama had your favorite pie made every time you walked through her door.  Mama could say more in one sentence, or with just a look, than most people can attempt to speak in a whole paragraph.  Mama was the true definition of love and God's living Grace.

Years ago I came across this poem, and the first time I read it I was astounded - it WAS, and still is, my Mama:

Mama's Hands

I saw you hide your hands in line,

behind that lady fair,

I noticed too, hers soft and white--

immaculate from care.

But Ma, I say, it's no disgrace

to have workin' hands like you,

and had she lived the life you have,

she'd have hands just like it too.

But her hands have never hauled in wood,

or worked in God's good earth.

They've never felt the bitter cold,

or chopped ice for waitin' stock,

they've never doctored sick ones,

or dressed a horse's hock.

They've nver pulled a hip-locked calf,

or packed water to the barn

They've probably never patched blue jeans,

or had worn ol' socks to darn.

They've never touched a young-n,

or caressed a fevered head,

with hands so gently folded,

all night beside his bed.

They've never scrubbed a kitchen floor,

or done dishes every day.

They've never guided with those hands

a child who's lost the way.

They've never made a Christmas gift,

shaped by a lovin' hand.

They've never peeled apples,

nor vegetables they've canned.

They've never worn a blister,

or had calluses to show,

for all they've done for others,

and the kindnesses I know.

So you see, my dearest Mama--

yours are hands of love.

And I bet the Lord will notice

when he greets you from above.

Tommi Jo Casteel

After occupying this earth for 90 years and 15 days, the Lord greeted my Mama on April 2, 2007.  And I know without a shadow of a doubt as He took and held her hand, He told her He had never seen more beautiful hands.

Happy Mother's Day Mama!  You are missed and you are loved!