I looked at the different blocks and pieces,
and hugged it to my chest,
and let my mind go wandering back
to the memories I love best.

I see hanging by cords from the ceiling--
those old quilting frames--
and remembered the many hours 
I spent underneath there playing games.

Mama seemed to be lost in her own world
as she made stitches filled with love.
She sang hymns of praise that spoke volumes
about our Heavenly Father up above.

I wondered why it made her so happy;
seemed an endless chore to me.
But now that I am older,
I know the reasons for that would be....

The quilt was a reminder
of the blessings in her life,
And helped her forget a while
about the toil and strife.

A scrap left from my brother's shirt--
after he left ,the world to roam--
reminded her to ask the Lord
to bring him safely home.

A piece from a baby's apron--
and the last one that would be--
made her look underneath the quilt
and smile 'cause the last one was me.

Maybe another from my sisters dress;
she got married in that one.
Mama stitched in a part of all of us
before the quilt was done.

Now I think Mama's most valuable reminder--
the one that helped her most--
was to think upon the Trinity,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Each time she pricked her finger,
and saw little droplets of red,
She was reminded of Jesus on the Cross,
and why his blood was shed.

My Mama went to heaven last year,
on a warm summer night..
She left behind no worldy goods
when she took her final flight.

But she left me rich beyond compare,
in memories that will never fade,
Of the love stitched in a tattered quilt...
the one my mama made..