Friday, July 19, 2019

Little Blessings~

For all grand flings that man may boast
It's little things that charm us most...

...for nothing makes us feel like kings
Like life's best wealth; its little things!

Like a Tap-Dancer (on a Leaf Xylophone)

Blushes on dawn’s yawning tarmac
Rouses bird-song, melts the veil
That soft-blanketed the landscape
Where the surging skylines pale
Tumbling, teeming, tick-tock thunder
Coursing through youth’s precious prime
Leaving in its wake fresh wonder
For the ancient ways of Time

Draws the laws of human-nature
Stalwart though its stance may be
To the place where face and stature
Proves mankind’s mortality
Leaping, steeping, sweeping torrent
Ever-ebbing in its surge
Meeting, melting in a moment
Where the past and future merge

Bathes the birth of day in Beauty
Earth and its fullness thereof
Tempers bonds of dream and duty
With the First Command; to love
Tests the best of bold bravado
And its jest, with gathered sheaves
Prancing, dancing like sun-shadow
On a xylophone of leaves

© Janet Martin

Thursday, July 18, 2019

To Know...

My sister-in-law now waits to see her dear mom again in 'land that is fairer than day'...
after they laid her to rest last week.
To live well is...
To know we did the best we could with kind humility
To know God works for our good no matter what may be
To know that soon we too will follow those whose footsteps cease
Into the faithful arms of God…to know this kind of peace
Brings courage to the harder parts that we are called to bear
Brings comfort to our heart of hearts and sweetness to the tear
Brings purpose to the passage that runs through the great unknown
Until we all will gather before God around His throne

© Janet Martin

2 Tim. 1: 12
…for I know whom I have believed, 
and am persuaded that he is able 
to keep that which I have committed 
unto him against that day.

Because We Can Only Be In One Place At One Time...

My hearts strings are wrapped around a teeny little apartment in Toronto where our daughter lives.
 (not near as far as Nova Scotia!!) 
but oh, because of this I know a little of the tug that Love feels as it hugs and holds and lets go...

 (my heart is in this little nook on the Bay of Fundy this morning)💕
Big hugs and prayers for our 'east family' as our son-in-law and daughter and family bid good-bye to parents/grandparents/siblings/aunts/uncles/cousins until the next 'till we meet'!

Because we can only be
In one place at one time
Love hungers and hurts and stings
And misses the kisses
And face-to-face blisses
That being together brings

Because we can only be
In one place at one time
Love cherishes with its whole heart
The moments of being
Together to cheer
The moments of being apart

Because we can only be
In one place at one time
Love holds near and dear, then oh
Because we can only be
In one place at one time
Love hungers and hurts and lets go

© Janet Martin

Almost Eden Garden Retreat

Don't have a front or back-yard garden?
... take to the country roads and see God's wild-flower gardens in full bloom!
Linger a little longer than you were going to and be surprised!

And they heard the voice of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day:...

Retreat to Gardens; earthy glimpse of Eden’s Paradise
Where sweat and toil earns bread and spoil rich with wonder’s surprise
Work hard for what you take; give thanks to He who doth provide
And fill your place ‘mongst human race with kind and humble pride
...and if the load on living’s road gets long and hard to bear
Then Retreat to a Garden (methinks God still walketh there)
Where in the cool of day and in the hush of green-spun things
There’s something ‘bout a garden from which hope eternal springs
After the push of planting as dirt-dreams start to take shape
Then retreat to the garden for little Grand Escape
And listen to the fiddler of sun-shadows play on leaf
And let the lilies of the field heal love’s heart-gnawing grief
When common care becomes the colour of Melancholy
Then retreat to a garden for some flower-therapy/there-happy
Let worry take a break where breezes sigh and tendrils wind
And let the Voice of God speak through bloom-bowers He designed

© Janet Martin

Intro to Summer from the book Shape of a Year ...
 The Shape of a Year
Oh, I wish I could share the whole July chapter with you!

Wednesday, July 17, 2019

It's Summertime

We are past July's half-way mark...doesn't that make your summer-heart lurch a little?!!

It’s summertime; 'neath lilt of vine we leap from day to day
Like steppingstones laid through a sparkling, swirling waterway
And try to find in daily grind a little of the joy
We knew in days long left behind, of carefree girl and boy
So we ease up the reins and chains that bind us to the plow
Say, whoa, Nellie, slow down Nellie, easy, easy now
For somehow time takes to full gallop over misty morn
Where wheat fields toss their glossy manes until their flow is shorn
Where flowers hoist their choicest plume while we, with mouths agape
Are overcome with worship where bud-miracles take shape
And we long for the longer days we knew when we were young
For days that stretched into the blue through meadows heaven-hung
With nothing more to do than peer into each butter-cup
And tip the dew from chalices where midnight-fairies sup
And kick the dust into a storm of wanderlust at large
And climb like lusty sailors onto a green-garden barge
To sail beneath the willow-tree that sighed with sheer content
Whilst shadowing the grassy sea with lacy filament
Where now the wings we spread are feathered with matters of fact
So much to weigh us down if we have no plan of attack
To help us make the merry most of days, now half-the-length
(a faith-plan of attack offers a sure tower of strength)
And in the middle of the muddle we learn how to pause
How to find beauty in a world so full of glaring flaws
How to savour fond flavours, clover-petal’s sugar-tips
Re-tasting childhood’s summer in our hearts and on our lips
And how to hold a moment like a fragile butterfly
Because we’ve learned how swift and suave summer can flutter by
And so we stop to listen to the toll of flower-bells
And fold our weathered wings to listen to the soulful knell
Of twilight tumbling through pink palisades propped on the west
To gather up another summer day into Past’s nest
And tug at tender chords tied to the rhythm and the rhyme
Of ebb and flow and high and low of dear, old summer-time

© Janet Martin