A Cowgirl Momma, Carved by Faith
The nights get cold on that prairie land,
But she don’t break—she takes God’s hand.
With a baby girl tucked close at night,
She leans on faith when there’s no end in sight.
She’s patched old jeans, gone weeks on beans,
Fought silent storms no one sees.
But through each trial, tear, and test,
She trusts the Lord will handle the rest.
Her hands are rough, her prayers are soft,
She lifts her girl and her hopes aloft.
“When the world gets mean, you stand and pray—
God don’t leave when folks walk away.”
She’s hauled hay sick, rode fence line sore,
Worked through nights with an aching core.
But her daughter’s laugh, like heaven’s light,
Keeps her going through the darkest night.
Some days she cries while no one sees,
Whispers, “Lord, please carry me.”
And sure as sunrise paints the sky,
She feels His mercy passing by.
She teaches her girl with every chore,
That life is hard—but there’s so much more.
“Don’t let the weight steal your joy, my dear,
God rides with you—He’s always near.”
Through muddy roads and unpaid bills,
She climbs each day with quiet will.
And side by side, just her and her kin,
They ride with God through thick and thin.
So if you see that cowgirl’s eyes,
Know they’ve seen lows and higher skies.
But through it all, she’s standing strong—
With her daughter’s hand and the Lord all along.
Copyright ©
Maya Smith
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