The skin is cracked, the wrinkles are deep;
The knuckles are swollen and red with pain
"Years of labor of love" is the message emitted.
Though her hands appear unattractive
And though they are wrinkled with age;
These were the hands that once lifted me up
To face life with determination and courage.
Though her hands are now so very weak
These same hands wiped away my tears;
They comforted me in my hour of need,
And soothed away my childhood fears.
These were the hands that wiped my brow
When fever raged and health was not whole;
Her comforting words and her loving touch
Brought healing to body, mind, and soul.
Now tired and worn with bulging veins
Her hands are unappealing and seem useless,
But these were the hands that washed my clothes
And showed me the path of self-forgetfulness.
My Mother's hands reached out for others
And ministered to those who were not well,
Her loving hands tended to all their needs,
Indeed, her old hands have a great story to tell.
My Mother's hands folded in prayer for
The God of Heaven to watch over her family
And keep them safe from the evil one
And finally be saved for all eternity.
Many of her prayers were answered for
They moved the Arm that moves the world.
Her prayers had always been for
Daily needs and the salvation of souls.
My Mother's hands reached out to Glory
And clasped the hand of her loving Savior
Who died for her on the cross of Calvary
And showed her tender mercy and loving favor.
Now resting in Jesus, peaceful and sweet
My Sweet Mother, wrinkled, tired and worn
Had ceased from her labors on this earth
Soon to be awakened in the Resurrection morn.
Then, in Heaven and in the Earth Made New
My Mother's hands would once more
Resume their labor of love in
Serving Jesus her King forevermore.
Copyrighted © Lydia Haga 2004