Helen's Hands

On April 24th my sweet Mom was laid to rest, next to her parents and her siblings. It was a beautiful day, full of love and memories. She had so many come to pay their respects, so many that loved her and will miss her. But love continues, it never dies. The funeral service was full of wonderful tributes and beautiful music...our niece Hannah sang "Come Thou Font of Every Blessing" as we entered the chapel. She has the voice of an angel, and now my Mom will be our angel, helping us from the other side. Here is the tribute I gave to her during the service:

When I was younger, I was asked by a friend what I appreciated most about my Mother. My response was immediate and definite: my Mother’s hands. Many years later, my feelings are the same, so I would like to now honor "Helen’s Hands.”

A Mother’s Hands: I see Mom’s hands when I was a child always making sure we were clean, well-dressed and “presentable” as she would put it. I see her hands guiding us, teaching us, pointing out things of interest wherever we went. She found such beauty in the world, and never tired of showing us, pointing out goodness, grace and wisdom wherever she found it. I remember her hands in discipline, yes in those days, spanking hands. I remember spending time in what we called the cold room after a spanking – it was the enclosed back porch with the washing machine, and there I would be, sitting in a laundry hamper feeling so badly that I had disappointed her. Tim also learned from her hands never to go into the pig pen with your Sunday clothes on! But always we knew that our mother’s hands were full of love.

Hardworking Hands: Never was there a Mom who worked harder for her children. I see her hands working in the tobacco fields, I see them working swiftly at Newtex Cleaners, and working as a checker at the Dominion Store. I remember her hands pinning laundry on the clothesline for that fresh air smell. I see her strong hands cleaning, hauling wood, doing house-hold chores, always working hard on behalf of her loved ones.

Cooking Hands: I can still see her in the kitchen, hands busily preparing food for her family – stirring hands, serving hands. My children remember most the creation of Mississippi Mud. We were there for a visit and were making juice for dinner. Since we didn’t have enough of one kind, we began adding, first peach, then white grape then lemonade, then who knows what, but the end result was absolutely delicious, even though it was the color of mud. After we were home I tried to recreate it, but was never able to once again taste that wonderful flavor, whether the water on the farm was the missing ingredient or not. Our Mom was like that, and Doug can attest to this - she could take what was available, and create with her hands a meal fit for a king, or make mud taste like sweet nectar.

Healing Hands: I can still feel her hands upon my brow, feeling for fever, or smoothing away the troubles of the day. Most of all I can still feel her cool hands soothing the many headaches I got when I was younger. I can still see her caring for others, from her grandchildren to her elderly friends, always with her gentle, compassionate, healing hands.

Helping Hands: I see her with broom in hand, on one of her many visits to see her grandchildren, not only sweeping the crumbs left behind by small ones, but then, by adding a cloth to it, I found her swatting at cobwebs that, as a busy mother I hadn’t yet seen. She was always willing to help others, care for stray animals, and lift up those that seemed burdened.

Gardening Hands: She loved to have a big garden and reveled in the fresh produce. She was always grateful for a good harvest and would preserve all that she could. She loved to plant flowers to make things pretty and would never be shy about claiming a green thumb!

Crocheting Hands: I see her hands creating beautiful things, and sharing her skills with others. She learned a somewhat complicated pineapple pattern from her sister Anne and in turn, patiently taught it to me. I can still see her correcting me when a square didn’t look just right. She spent many, many hours crocheting white christening and blessing afghans for each new baby in a family using this pattern and lovingly sewing the squares together. And now, my hands will continue the tradition that her hands have begun.

Scrabble Hands: Mom loved a good game of scrabble! I can still see her hands as she placed winning tiles upon the board with a triumphant smile on her face. She loved her scrabble buddies as well! And then those Scrabble hands would become…

Clapping Hands: in delight! Our Mom had a great sense of humor and would often clap at something funny. I can still remember her getting to the knee-slapping stage in her laughter on one of our many trips. I can also see her hands applauding the accomplishments of her children and grandchildren and then her great-grandchildren, as I know she will now continue to do.

Waving Hands: I see her hands waving hello to the grandkids upon arrival at the airport. I see her at the side door on the farm, waving her hands in goodbye as we drive off, waving until, and perhaps long after, we are out of sight on the gravel road.

Wringing Hands: I see the hands of a mother as she worries and wonders about her children and those she loves. Our Mom worried, just like her mother before her did, and when things were getting tense, I can still see her wringing her hands, sometimes even uttering a few, “Oh, dears”. But always those wringing hands would stop and become…

Praying Hands: I see the clasped hands of a praying mother, as she put her faith into action in beseeching God for the blessings she so much needed. I can still see those praying hands leafing through her favorite verses of scripture to comfort her, to guide her, and then always her hands would become,

Turning Hands: Turning things over to the Lord in faith when all she could do, had been done. She would often quote to me from Romans 8:28 “And we know that all things work together for good to them that Love God…” and set the example in her life, of trusting Him to do this. I see our Mom turning misfortune to a blessing in disguise, her hands were always learning and turning things to good.

Still Hands: Our Mother’s hands are now still. Her toil and work here on earth are finished. But I know, just as she knew, that she will continue to give her hands in service and in worship to our Heavenly Father. I know that our Mother lives on, and that she is so happy now, and if she could, she would be waving to us now.