My Mother's Hands

My mom's hands.
She couldn't bear for a fall season to go by without baking apple pies.
She is waiting in hospital for placement in a Care Home.
Her fingers - precise with the pie edge.
Hands that are in their 97th year.
Tears come to my eyes as I study this picture.
Hands that have cooled my feverish forehead, hands that combed my unruly naturally curly hair, hands that swatted my bottom when I needed it & I sure did!
Hands that sewed many articles of clothing & have taught me my love of sewing.
Hands that prepared many delicious meals & welcomed many guests.
Hands that miked cows, butchered chickens, weeded gardens, encouraged flowers to provide many blooms.
Hands that expressed love in many ways.
Hands that hugged & welcomed grandchildren & then great grandchildren.
Hands that are lifted in prayer many times each day to bring her daughters & their families before our Heavenly Father to plead for grace & mercy for each one.
My mother's hands. Such beautiful hands. Much more than my feeble words can express.
May the Lord bless her & keep her until He calls her home