Hello, God. It's me, Mara.

You know, dear Lord, on Mother’s Day, we all have thoughts of moms. As we grew up, we’d ask advice, she’d help us through our qualms. On this fine day, we’re thinking back when we were kids back home; for us young girls, how fun it was when our long hair she’d comb. 

The ranch was home when we were small; its comfort soothed our soul. Our mama sang the Sun awake, then shook the grates, added coal. Our bedroom was two rooms away; Mom’s song caused us to stir. We’d hear milk pails Daddy set down, heard separator’s whir. Now was the time to break our fast, our meals prepared with care. Mom’s days were never happier than when we all were there. The food she placed upon our plates helped us to thrive and grow. She did this with a heart of joy — because she loved us so.

Our mom’s now gone to Heavenly Home; she left us each a plate! If plates could talk, they’d speak of strength, they’d tell it to us straight! No matter what life has in store, or how we change our plans, we’ll treasure dishes Mama used, these plates held in her hands. More valuable than ranch or plates? Our parents, faith and love. Dear memories hid deep within, a gift from God above.

We’ll tell our kids how God helped us be loyal, love, have fun reminders of things gone before, how our mom got things done. Her busy hands helped to mold us, her genius she passed on. A thousand things pass through our minds since Mom and Dad have been gone. Reminders of from where we’ve come, so kids and grandkids learn; of former things and ’bout You, Lord, Your gift they cannot earn. We thank You, Lord, for our dear Mom, not perfect, she nor we! She did the best with what she had; Lord bless all moms — our plea!

Love, Mara