Mother’s Apron

 

              The history of the apron

              Goes back to Adam and Eve

              They sewed fig leaves as a covering

              Because God’s Word they did not receive

 

              There have been many uses

             Of the apron over the years

             But the greatest use of all

             Is by a Mother we hold so dear

 

             As she cares for her family

             And the many tasks at hand

             She wears her trusty apron

             Which is used at her command

 

             It was used as a covering

             To protect her gingham dress

             Or to cradle a weeping child

             Who was hurt or in distress

 

             It might be used as a basket

             For carrying kindling or wood

            To keep the home fires burning

            And prepare the delicious food

 

            Or to rescue baby chicks

            From a soon approaching storm

            To be carried to the hen house

            Where they would be safe and warm

      

             It might be used to gather

             Ears of corn so tender and sweet

             Or to gather vegetables from the garden

             So she could fix a special treat

 

             Mother may have wiped her brow with it

             On a hot and sultry day

             Or wiped a lingering tear

             As her grown children moved away

 

             She may have carried in her pocket

             A letter from a loved one far away

             So she could read it over and over again

             And close to her heart they would stay

 

             If Mother’s apron could only talk

             O what stories it would share

             Of a home and happy family

             And a Mother’s loving care

 

            By – Charlotte Snapp

         

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Life
 "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many
 kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops
 perseverance." (James 1:2-3 )"In this you greatly rejoice, though now for
a
 little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.
(Peter
 1:6

 Life they say is funny, that you get the good with the bad. But there
are
 some folks, it just seems, who get more of the bad.

 I'll tell you of a women who was handed more of life's punches than she
 needed....She lost her two young sons and two terrible accidents. Her
 husband died soon after and soon after that she lost her place to
 live....Soon after she was diagnosed with one of many health problems and
I
 mean many..Soon after her daughter, age 10, was diagnosed with the same
 disorder that she had.

 When life kept handing punches to this young widow with 3 children left
 tend too. She would say to me, Mary Ann, My one and only daughter that I
 love. "It's time for me to make God's Punch-ade." She would always say the
 recipe is easy but you have to put effort to make it just right.

 Each time you receive one of life's punches and there are many
> favors.(trials) from life you must do as follows:

 Take the punch favor that you have just handed and pour it in to prayer;
add in the Living water of God, Remembering each of His Promises, pray and
pledge each promise from the Word of God). Stir in Sweet Thanksgiving and
Praise (Thank Him for His Salvation, Praise Him in all situations). Life
 will be a little sweeter now, because he has tasted all the punches you
have
 been handed which you made into Punch-ade. (He knows each trial and
 temptation that you face each day of your life and He will aid you in themall.

 He knows every punch you have been handed or will be handed. He has
tasted every punch not under a tree, but on a tree.

 So when life starts handing you punches. Start making God's Punch-ade.
It's works! Just follow the recipe, the effort you put in, will aid you
 His promises. Do you know why? I'm the daughter.


 Mary Ann Redond

 

 

Thoughts of Mom

My mother was born on October 21, 1927. She was a small baby weighing only 5 pounds at birth. As I look at pictures of her when she was a child, she appears to have been shy and insecure. She had a full head of bushy blond hair and seemed to be somewhat awkward. Growing up during the depression wasn’t easy. Her father was a pastor and her mother was a homemaker who did the best she could to make ends meet.

She has told me stories about her childhood, some of which are amusing and others that aren’t. My mother had a big imagination, which she apparently used frequently as a child. She told me a story about a time she was staying with her grandmother. She was about 4 or 5 years old and needed to use the bathroom. To get to the bathroom, she had to go down to a very dark basement using a long flight of stairs. Her grandmother was apparently too busy to go with her so sent her off by herself. My mother started down the stairway but immediately came running back. Her grandmother realized that she had not had enough time to have gone to the bathroom so she asked her if something was wrong. My mother told her that there was snake on the stairs. Grandma went to check out the snake only to find out it was nothing but a worm. She scolded little Leota and sent her to the bathroom once again. Reluctantly my mother started towards the bathroom once again. Before she arrived at the bathroom she must have had second thoughts because she ran back upstairs to grandma a second time. Grandma asked if she had used the bathroom and Leota replied that she hadn’t. Of course Grandma wanted to know why and Leota told her there was an elephant on the stairs. Off to the stairway went grandma and Leota. At the bottom of the stairs sat a little gray mouse! Grandma soundly spanked Leota and sent her to the bathroom. This time she arrived at her destination.

A second story she has told me about her childhood occurred when she was 8 years old. It was getting near Christmas and Leota wanted a particular doll that she saw every time she would go to the local store. She said she would stare at it longingly and sometimes hold it in her arms. She didn’t have much confidence in receiving it, as she knew that her parents didn’t have the money. The man that owned the store would watch her each time she came into the store staring longingly and knew that her heart would be broken if she didn’t get that doll for Christmas. Christmas morning arrived and Leota went to open up her gifts. Much to her surprise, there was the doll that she had desired so desperately. The storeowner had given it to my grandfather so that Leota could have her doll and have a happy Christmas.

My mother’s life was never easy. She always had to struggle for everything she needed. She used to say that she could pinch Mr. Lincoln until he squealed and I think she was right. Somehow she always seemed to manage to get what was needed. I learned many things from her about how to stretch a dollar and how to make do when the money just wasn’t there. She taught me how to sew on an old treadle sewing machine, how to make a meal out of practically nothing and how to keep going no matter what came along. She used to spend many evenings crocheting beautiful doilies or an afghan for someone. She taught me to read when I was four. I can still see her standing at the ironing board ironing while I practiced my letters or some new word on the chalkboard. I remember the smell of fresh bread that she would bake on our old wood stove. I still enjoy the smell of fresh laundry because it brings back memories of she and I folding it after taking it off the line.

Later in life, she took care of many elderly people who thought she was a gem. She would go out of her way to do little things for them such as walk all over town just to run an errand for a little old lady who had no one else. I used to take her to visit some of these people and they always were happy to see her. She brought a little joy into their lives and they loved her for it. Many of them would slip her a little extra money or give her some little trinket they felt she might enjoy. I saw a side of my mother that I really didn’t know on those trips and I thank God that for it.

My mother may not have had much in the way of worldly riches, but she certainly enriched many others with her presence. My inheritance from my mother isn’t something tangible that can be seen or have a monetary value put on. It is the many things she taught me throughout my life and the precious memories of the things we did together. At the end she said something to me that I had not heard from her since I was a child. I had just read one of my poems to her and with tears in her eyes she looked at me and said "I love you!" That simple little phrase means more to me than any material thing she could have given me. Mom, I love you too!

January 28, 2000

Ann Martin


 

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