As I cleaned her room today I saw knee prints on the floor,
Right beside my momís bed the worn old carpet bore,
Impressions where she had prayed so very many times,
The place she talked to Jesus with her heart and mind.
Iím sure that many of the times she knelt in that spot,
She was praying for me when my prayers I forgot.
Asking Jesus to protect me and to keep me close to Him,
I couldnít help but cry as I looked down at them.
Her calloused hands were loving when she stroked my hair,
Her work worn face was beautiful as she talked to Jesus there.
I remember many times the tears she shed as she prayed,
Always at the end of day as the light began to fade.
I never heard her prayers they were silent from her heart,
But Iím sure God heard them they were never far apart.
He held her in His arms and she was comforted by Him,
Every prayer she sent He heard and answered them.
Norma Marek ~ 7th January 2004
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