Nelda Grace

She glides through the home making sure all is in order;
The pantry is stocked, the bills are paid and in the recorder.

She prepares her meals several hours ahead;
And instructs each child how to make their bed.

She often overlooks her own personal need;
To attend to a child’s cry or plea.

She creatively adorns herself according to season;
And can break out in song for no reason.

She is a nurse, doctor, lawyer and preacher;
But to her child she is the primary teacher.

What big shoes to fill, this role of a mother;
The one who held you at birth, there is no other.

But when the comfort of those arms are no longer;
Her essence is still there to fill the hunger.

For memories are caught in nets raised high or dropped low;
That can be relished when we stop to let them go.

A mother like mine is what I esteem to be;
I only wish she were here to physically see.

But a legacy she did leave;
For how a beautiful Godly mother should be.

Nelda LaPrarie Adams

Nelda LaPrarie Adams

This poem is written in loving memory of my dear mother. May she rest in peace. (November 15, 1951 to June 3, 1991)

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