Her Hands On Those Keys

It’s a symbol of a life well lived. As I sit down I can imagine my mom sitting on the exact same bench. I lay my hands on the keys and close my eyes. It’s soothing to touch the same ebony and ivory that she could make sing. My ability is very limited. She could enable them to praise the LORD with all her heart. She could press those keys in perfect rhythm and harmony to forget the world and think on greater things.

My mom is linked to me by blood, sweat and tears. She is forever connected to me because I was brought forth from her loins. Her blood streams through my veins. Although I knew her for only seven years, I am so thankful that she was around long enough to make me who I am. She laid her soul and faith before me by the way she lived. She laid out the keys to life.

I’m sure she bent her knees as she cried over me and all her beloved offspring of six. She combed my hair, cooked my meals, and worked hard gathering and cleaning eggs. As I was in the tub, she lifted the washcloth to warm me with water from the stove that trickled down. Mom is the one who wiped my tears when I fell onto the gravel driveway. She raised a hand from those keys to pull me close when I came to sit on that bench beside her.

Springtime tulips in the breeze.

Springtime tulips in the breeze.

She would come into my room in that huge white farmhouse at bedtime. My mom listened to my prayer in the springtime dusk as she pulled the shade down, and the covers up around my shoulders. She read me a story and ran her hand over my forehead as she kissed me goodnight. I remember her very last night. The two hairpins she left on the corner of my bookcase that I didn’t dare touch for weeks hoping she might come back to get them.

Her hands worked intensely hard, and could also rest softly on those keys and fill every corner of that farmhouse with music for our souls. Every piece of woodwork absorbed the melody of praise.

My mom's piano in my home.

My mom’s piano in my home.

Now the piano sits in my living room and I can imagine her hands on those keys. Two of her diaries are always on the piano so I can turn to a page to listen to her voice. My mom knew the key to true contentment even when life handed her unpleasant keys.

Your hands are now on those keys of life. Thank you for showing me what they are. I choose life.

Happy Mother’s Day mom. I love you and will see you later.

About Myrna Folkert

Myrna is an author who desires to use her gifts to glorify God. She's created this blog to tell stories of her childhood, musings about life, motherless daughters, grief and loss, faith in God, her family history, and facts about the Long QT syndrome. She also has a hearing condition called Tinnitus. Doing interviews with motherless daughters like herself are of great interest. Join in discussions by following this blog and commenting. She would love to hear your stories about life. Myrna is a Christ follower, wife, mother, sister, friend, aunt, and cousin. She was an elementary school teacher for 27 years; now works in her church, and a few other volunteer activities such as Hospice doing "Life Reviews" and Vigils. Myrna loves to read, write, listen to music, go to concerts, and take pictures. Her favorite pastime is boating with her husband near the beautiful shores of West Michigan.
This entry was posted in Death, Family, Farming, Grief and loss, Hope, Mom, mother loss, Mother's Day, Motherless Daughters and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Her Hands On Those Keys

  1. Jeanne says:

    Myrna. I am sobbing. This is so beautiful. You write with such grace and dignity. You make the story jump off the page and into a mind. I have know you for many years. I love you like a blood sister, therefore have known for as long as I can remember….this sadness that you know. However reading this now seems as if this is the first time I am hearing it. Keep writing my friend! Touch the souls for Christ’s kingdom!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Jeanne you are such a sweet sister in Christ. It was one of those pieces–I just felt so led and chilled while writing it… I pray they all are, but some are just more so that way. It’s strange that the more you write, the more details come into your mind. My prayer is always that it may help other people. Whatever God wants to do with my writings, it’s all from Him and for Him. Bless your Mother’s Day!!

      Like

  2. Wanda says:

    Myrna,
    What a beautiful piece and a wonderful tribute to a loving mother.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Marilyn Tinklenberg says:

    This is so beautiful and precious. I remember your mom so well and all the times we visited there. She was a great mom and wonderful aunt to us, especially when we were in Mi. and so far from our own families. She had us over often and it was so special.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Marilyn it is meaningful to hear from you. She wrote often about sending some little gift for Marilyn and Carol and thought so much of you little girls! It’s so special to me to hear anything about my mom! Looking forward to talking to you again soon cousin!!

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  4. This was so beautiful. Thank you for sharing with us.

    Liked by 1 person

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