Celebrating Mothers

Have you ever heard of Anna Jarvis?

It's through her efforts we have Mother's Day.She wanted to honor her own mother who had served in the Andrews Methodist Episcopal Church in Grafton, West Virginia so she convinced the church to hold a service honoring mothers. She also urged a merchant in Philadelphia, her home town, to join her cause and he held an afternoon service in his store. The custom soon spread to other cities and states.

At one of the first services, Anna distributed white carnations to the those attending because they were her mother's favorite flower. The tradition of wearing a white flower in honor of a deceased mother and brightly colored ones for living mothers is still followed by some today.
Anna Jarvis gathered supporters and they together convinced ministers, politicians, and business leaders to lobby for a national observance.

On May 8, 1914, Congress passed a joint resolution designating the second Sunday in May as Mother's Day. The next day, President Woodrow Wilson issued the first Mother's Day presidential proclamation calling for "a public expression of our love and reverence for the mothers of our country."

In honor of Mother's Day, I would like to share this poem I wrote for my mother a couple of years ago.

Hands

By Barbara Latta

 Loving hands held me when I was small, cuddled and fed me, and tucked me in at night with a good story. They would pick me up when I would fall, kiss the hurt, and wipe away the tears. Hands would feel my head when I had a fever, dispensing bad tasting medicine with a spoon. Those hands would be there all night long in case a cough or fever returned.

Hands would cook good food each day and a finger would shake in my face if I didn’t eat. “What about all those starving children in the world?” 

Hands would clean and scrub each day making our home sparkle and shine while my brothers and I would invite the dirt back in with each step we took. Those hands would work at the sewing machine for hours, making clothes for me and even my dolls.

Hands would hold mine when I was afraid, pack my lunch and wave good-bye when I went to school. Those same hands would spank me when I was bad but it was for my own good. It kept me from being bad again.

Hands would work hard digging in dirt to plant flowers, and then I would pick them to bring in for a vase. Those hands just let me think that was ok. Those hands endured a pet turtle in my room and even helped clean out the bowl. Those same hands made the puppy stay outside.

Hands taught me to peel potatoes, to sew a stitch, and wash a dish.  They held the book while it was read and pointed to words I could learn.  

Those hands are older now and slower to move, sometimes swollen and filled with pain. The wisdom of those hands has held my babies and caressed their faces.

 Those hands taught me to love.

Share how you would like to honor your mother or special woman in your life.

Happy Mother's Day!