By: Darrelyn L. Tutt

A little hand slipped into mine,
A dandelion bouquet,
Little words like, "Thank-you, mom,"
Are things that make my day.

Taking time to read a book,
With you upon my lap;
Listening while you sing a song,
And little hands that clap.

Puckered lips that whistle blow
And learning how to wink;
Watching you develop
And respecting how you think.

Finding you a band-aid
For the hurt I cannot see;
Looking at a part of you,
And seeing a part of me.

Footsteps padding down the stairs
For one more hug and kiss;
These things that matter most to me,
One day I’m going to miss.

Help me, Lord, to not regret
The memories left today;
In my preoccupation,
Help me stop for child’s play.

A privilege being a mother,
Things that matter most to me;
A little hand slipped into mine,
And eyes that help me see.

"Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord; the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth."
Psalm 127:3-4