Sermon Illustrations

As I looked through the old photo album,

my eyes fixed upon

a picture of Mom in her blue Sunday dress

wearing a soiled, yellow apron.

I smiled as, in my mind, I returned.

It seemed like just yesterday,

For I had left on it my small handprints—

From playing in Carolina red clay.

Mom had called us into dinner;

I could smell Sunday chicken fried.

I ran in and threw my arms 'round her

As my clay-red hands, she spied.

She pinched my cheeks and chuckled,

Sent me in to wash up and sit down.

Then sister Mary Ruth snapped Mom’s picture.

We kids giggled; Dad just made a frown.

Mom always wore an apron;

Yellow was her favorite color.

I'd sneak up and quickly untie it;

Hear her shout, “Scat, you little stinker!”

Her apron was Mom’s very favorite

thing of all that she wore:

Like a mother's badge of honor,

Displayed as fancy decor.

She'd wear it to the hen house,

Shape it as a round bowl to hold

Fresh eggs she had gathered,

Or to shield baby chicks from the cold.

She would use it like a basket

For tomatoes, or even fresh corn.

I recall the day it cradled

A dozen kittens, newly born.

She’d pull it up from the bottom,

Her dishpan hands to dry;

To fan herself in hot weather;

Or to wave it in, saying goodbye.

Mom’s apron could hide a shy child

Or wipe dirt from a little boy’s ear;

And the hankie she kept in its pocket?

That’s a memory I still hold dear.

Her sweaty brow would get patted

As she cooked over our old wood stove;

And it served as potholder for cornbread

From the oven she would remove.

She’d use it to carry ripe apples

That had fallen to the ground;

Or to collect crumbs from the table,

Toss’em to the birds waitin’ around.

Mom’s apron had multiple uses,

From a tote bag to shooing flies;

But she also used it, tenderly,

To wipe many teary eyes.

I suppose the apron was invented

To protect a mom’s pretty clothes,

And especially with my mom in mind:

How she loved it . . . only Heaven knows.

I reckon not too many ladies

Would care a whit for it, these days,

But Mom proved its limitless value

As she used it in so many ways.

Today as I look through my photos,

There’s one I still gaze upon:

It’s of Mom in her blue Sunday dress,

wearing a soiled yellow apron.

©Loyd C Taylor, February 2008

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