My mom is a strong half Indian woman, she roofed she cleaned houses she was a nurse all to make sure I had every I ever needed.
She taught me how to sit like a lady and taught me to say please and thank you. She taught me to love and give everything I have. She taught me about Jesus and how to pray. I love this woman.
A mother never has a day off they will be a boss, a taxi driver a banker and maid, they are a judge and lawyer, and reporter and driver, and cook. They are a doctor and nurse moms never rest. From the moment to the first kicked til the day they die they love you 24/7.
Everyone has a mom and they tell you they don’t they are lying they would not be here if they didn’t. So here is to you moms.
Her Hands
© Maggie Pittman
Her hands held me gently from the day I took my first breath.
Her hands helped to guide me as I took my first step.
Her hands held me close when the tears would start to fall.
Her hands were quick to show me that she would take care of it all.Her hands were there to brush my hair, or straighten a wayward bow.
Her hands were often there to comfort the hurts that didn’t always show.
Her hands helped hold the stars in place, and encouraged me to reach.
Her hands would clap and cheer and praise when I captured them at length.
Her hands would also push me, though not down or in harms way.
Her hands would punctuate the words, just do what I say.
Her hands sometimes had to discipline, to help bend this young tree.
Her hands would shape and mold me into all she knew I could be.
Her hands are now twisting with age and years of work,
Her hand now needs my gentle touch to rub away the hurt.
Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be.
Her hands are the reason I am me.
Source: Her Hands, Mother Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/her-hands#ixzz2T6skDXII
http://www.FamilyFriendPoems.com
My Sealed Memories Photography 