My Mother's Plates

Served with hands of love, dignity, and grace.
Mother's Plates
Though aged with years and use
Still shine as good as they were new
When I look at my Mother's Plates
I think back to the sacrifice she gave
To prepare and to serve
So that we might have food at the table
There were early mornings and busy days,
Unending chores, phone calls, and counsel she gave
The fires of quarrels she quenched; scrapes she mended
With five children to manage, it is a wonder it got done
I remember many nights we were safe asleep
Before her kitchen light went out
But we knew where she went to wash her plates
Where she sat to receive His grace
When I would rise to get my drink
There she would be, at Jesus feet
Talking with her Faithful Father and Friend
About her day and thanking Him
Now in my cupboard when you open the doors
You will find my Mother's Plates
Worn by time, a few cracks, yet everything in place
Served by hands of love, dignity, and grace
And I know from whence they came
I hope to do the same with my Mother's Plates