She held my face in the palms of her
rough, un-manicured hands.
I remember her eyes looking into mine
as if she saw a greatness in my future
that would forgive any unfulfilled
promises of her past.
I can still feel her hands on my face.
Hands that told the story of her life
without a word being said.
Hands that spoke of
faith and strength.
Hands that gave more love and
more memories than any one
lifetime could hold.
She was raised in Hollywood.
Not the Hollywood of stars,
glitz, and glamour,
but Hollywood Plantation,
where the only stars that shined
were the ones she
wished and prayed on.
She didn't have soft scholastic hands of
a gilded youth,
but hands that adapted to what hard
work meant at a very young age.
Hands she used as means of worship,
placing them together tightly as she
gave thanks to The Most High for all
she had been blessed with,
both big and small.
When she became a wife and mother,
she continued to use those hands
to provide for her family,
working in schools and in homes
of rich folks,
cleaning their messes
and scrubbing their floors
while all the while singing,
"If you can't help me, please don't stop me.
Move outta my way, don't try to block me.
I got a race to run, and I'm running by faith.
And at the finishing line, I'm gonna see God's face."
She didn't allow pride to dictate
what was and what wasn't.
Her pride came from knowing she had done
her part in feeding her family and
that in itself was enough for her.
She had hands of love:
love of her family, her friends,
her church, her God.
Hands that would cut out patterns
to make her children's school clothes.
Hands that would rub her children's
backs until they fell asleep
when they were sick.
Hands that would direct her
church's youth choir
so the mouths of babes would
sing and rejoice in praising the Lord.
When her children needed
to be disciplined,
one never imagined the hands
of her 5ft, 95lb frame to hold
the power of a 7 ft, 300 lbs man.
Instilling respect in her children
was a necessity because she
understood if they had not been
taught at home eventually
the law might do it for her
and that was not an option.
Everything about her was inviting:
her smile, her infectious laugh,
and the biggest heart
God ever saw fit to create.
But what I remember most about her
are her hands because before
God took her back to heaven,
I held her hands one last time
and I would carry that priceless
moment with me forever.
God chooses where His miracles
will occur and where
His Angels reside.
For all who knew her, we received
an everlasting miracle when
God chose to let us have one of
His most precious Angels for
the 50 years she made our world her home.
I am forever grateful to God
for the favor He has placed
upon my life.
Out of the billions of people
on this Earth,
I was chosen as one of the few
who experienced her presence,
her touch,
her laugh,
her smile,
her love,
and I will hold her in
my heart for the rest of my existence
until she holds my face
in the palms of her hands
once again.
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