MAMA'S THOUGHTS

My Aunt Libby, her name was Lillian but I couldn't pronounce that so we called her Libby, was born in 1927. She was the 8th living child of my grandparents, Harry and Katie Miller. Libby was born with a cleft palate. They called it a "hair lip". She was unable to suck like other babies and had to be hand fed with a spoon very carefully so that she would not choke.
She was an oddity, a curiosity to some and she was stared at from the beginning of her life.
Libby had her first surgery to correct her cleft at around the age of two. She eventually had several surgeries until it was fully corrected. Of course, medical science was not as advanced then as it is today and Libby was left with a large scar above her lip and a serious speech impediment.
But Libby was an over comer. She conquered most of her speech problem and grew to become a striking beauty. She never complained or even mentioned that she'd ever had problems as a child.
One day in 2006 I was taking her to see her doctor. We left her house and drove passed where the old Dunbar High School used to be. Libby pointed to a field across the street and said, "When I was small there were boys who lived in that house and they used to play ball in the field. When I walked home from school I would have to pass by them and they made fun of me and the way I talked. They called me "hair lip" and terrible names. They mimicked me and laughed at me."
As she spoke the words stabbed into my heart. I looked over at my sweet 79 year old aunt and tears were running down her cheeks. Those words were spoken 70 years ago and the pain that they inflicted was still there.
Mother Teresa once said "Harsh words may be short but their echos are endless."

MAMA'S THOUGHTS

In 1974 I was a young mother with 3 small boys. The Vietnam War was in full swing. The drug culture had begun to contaminate America. There was talk of starving people right here in our own country. Rumors of serious pollution to our ground, sea and air had us all concerned. The future looked bleak for America...much as it does now.
One evening, as I sat at my kitchen table listening to the news, I felt overwhelmed with all the world troubles I was leaving to my young boys. I thought about bleak the future they seemed to be facing. I felt troubled, scared and saddened. So I jotted down a short verse on a steno pad and put it away.
Eight months later my husband and I found Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. My whole outlook on life took on a new meaning.
In the middle of the night, about 6 months later, I heard an audible voice wake me and say, "Susan, finish your boys poem." I did not question the voice but I had not thought of that notepad for over a year. Where would I find it?
I rose from my bed and went into my family room thinking I would never find that long, lost notepad. But when I looked up on the bookshelf there it was sticking out from all of my husbands history books. So I sat down at that same kitchen table and finished the poem as I believe God instructed me in my heart.
Here is the poem, I hope you can see the change that Jesus made in my life.

MY SONS, MY SON

MY SONS, MY SON, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
I TURNED AND I LOOKED AND I SEE YOU ARE GROWING.
YOU'RE GROWING UP FAST AND THERE'S SO MUCH TO LEARN,
WILL YOU ALWAYS KNOW WHICH WAY TO TURN?
WILL YOU GO HUNGRY OR HAVE NO SHOES?
WILL YOU BE PERSECUTED FOR YOUR VIEWS?
WILL YOU TAKE DRUGS, WILL YOU SMOKE POT?
OH, MY SONS, HOW MUCH I HOPE NOT.
WILL YOU BE SICK OR INJURED, IN PAIN?
WILL YOU HAVE SOMEPLACE TO GO IN THE RAIN?
WILL YOU HAVE WATER TO DRINK WHEN YOU'RE DRY?
HOW CAN YOU SEE WITH SMOG IN YOUR EYE?
WILL BE TAUGHT TO KILL WITH A GUN?
OH, NO, NOT YOU MY SONS, MY SON.
THERE'S SO MANY QUESTIONS I HAVE IN MY MIND
BUT THE ANSWERS LAY AHEAD FOR US TO FIND.
MY SONS, MY SON, THE WORLD HAS GROWN COLDER.
WHY, OH, WHY MUST YOU GROW ANY OLDER?
NO WORRIES, NO TROUBLES, NO FEAR NO SORROW,
MY SONS, MY SON, BUT WHAT COMES TOMORROW?

MY SONS, MY SON, NO WEALTH CAN I SHARE
BEYOND THIS GREAT WISDOM I LEAVE IN YOUR CARE.
JUST TRUST IN THE LORD AND OUR SAVIOR, HIS SON
TO GUIDE AND TO COMFORT TILL YOUR DAY IS DONE.
YOU SEE, MAMA HAS GROWN SO MUCH MORE THAN YOU
AND LEARNED TO TRUST JESUS HER WHOLE JOURNEY THROUGH.
SO GROW NOW, MY CHILDREN, WITHOUT WORRY OR SORROW
FOR GOD'S ONLY SON GUIDES YOUR TOMORROW.

MAMA THOUGHTS

I wrote this in 1982 for my Granny. I had heard so many stories about her life. How she sacrificed to keep her family together after the death of my Grandfather. Each of her children held her in the highest esteem. She was a wonderful woman. I adored her. So I wrote this as a tribute to her using the stories I remembered hearing from her 8 girls and 1 boy. She is my life's hero.

Was there ever anything more blessed than my Mama"s hands? Often I would watch them without ever realizing how very precious they were;

I remember Mama's hands upon my head as she brushed back my childish tresses; sometimes with soft tender strokes and other times as though to jerk each single strand right out of my head;

I remember Mama's cool touch upon my fevered brow; the worry in her face as she desperately nursed a failing child back to health;

I can still see Mama's fingers waving furiously before my nose as she scolded me for a youthful prank; I remember well the painful warmth of a sternly placed Mama's hand upon my backside;

Day after day I watched my Mama's sweet hands, scorched in redness from the many hours of near slave labor she performed at home and away; Isn't it strange that we think Mama will never tire out?

Poor Mama, how very exhausted she must have been; Daylight till dusk and we never even noticed;

Mama didn't have time for fun then but I remember how much fun it was for us watching her preparing snow "ice cream". It made the cold, bitter mornings around the radiator a little more bearable to know that the rare treat of snow ice cream was so near;

As for play, well, Mama didn't have time for much play; I wonder what kept Mama going all those years? I wonder what made her smile? What gave her joy? In those early years, did Mama ever get to play? Oh, how I remember, after we were all grown, gathering at Mama's house for special "BINGO" nights; Mama loved playing Bingo; We played for pennies and Mama made us pull down the shades when we played; gambling was illegal then. We would often, "accidentally" forget to cover one of our numbers just to see Mama's face when she won; My Mama was a winner;

Later in life, Mama did have a chance to find joy; Nothing brought her more pleasure than tracing a road map for the best highways and quickest routes as she traveled in all directions.

Although, she never learned to drive a car, Mama was a good navigator.

I remember Mama's hands as she held my child in her arms for the first time: She never seemed to tire of us, not even our children;

As I look back I believe one of the greatest joys in Mama's life might have been creating; She created quilted masterpieces for each of us; She spent hours tying tiny pieces of her old hose together to form one small throw rug; It took her months of knitting to complete a colorful and beautiful afghan;

I can still see Mama's little rapidly moving fingers as she tatted the delicate threads of her dining room table cloth; Fancy things were few then but we had the loveliest lace tablecloth anyone could ever want made by my Mama's hands; A few time when no one was looking, I would drape it around myself and pretend I was a beautiful bride; How little did I think then about the nimbleness in Mama's hands;

Dear God, Thank you for allowing us memories, tho oft times painfully remembered. Never would I trade them for anothers; Thank you, Father, for my Mama's hands and the story they tell; Your hands tell a story too, don't they? Like my Mama's your hands suffered, sacrificed and loved; only your hands were so much more than even my Mama's; Some day, Lord, I will see your outstretched hands and right behind them will be my Mama's hands reaching out to me. Just like they were so many times, saying "Welcome home, my child."

Sometimes I wrap Mama's afghan, the one she made just for me, around myself and hold it close while I remember Mama.