When I Think Of Heaven ... I Think Of Mom |
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When I pass a church� I think of mom I see her kneeling there With folded hands And a still, bowed head. I hear her whispered words� Those countless prayers she offered, Not for herself� But for the rest of us. When I feel warm and snug� I think of Mom. I see her by the stove Reaching toward the wood-box. Or I feel her busy hands Placing a fluffy quilt Over my sleeping body� pausing for a moment To caress my protected shoulder. When I think of meal-time� I think of Mom. I see her table laden With our favorite treats. I sip the steaming coffee She brings to my side. Then I eat my fill and a little more, To please her anxious, watching eyes. When I think of patience� I think of Mom. Always preparing and waiting� Waiting for us to come. Then she would greet us With a smile and a kiss. Never a frown� Never a cross word. She only knew gladness� for we were there. When I think of goodness� I think of Mom. The sacrifices she made Were as much a part of her life As breathing or smiling. It didn�t matter who Or what a person was� If he needed help� She gave it! When I think of heaven� I think of Mom. I look up at the blue sky And I know Mom is there, With her God and her friends and her family. But even with her supreme reward� Surrounded by the peace and perfection of heaven, I�m sure�Mom still worries about us. |
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