We each have our own range of mountains to climb
Spilling the art of our attitudes where
Accountability sobers our prayer
Urging us upward in reverence of Time
Clandestine cravings and comforts compete
No one but God can behold our hearts
And no one but God perfect pardon imparts
Thus making bearable life’s bittersweet
Over the canvas of daylight our thought
Paints into pictures life’s moiling chagrin
Reaching, ah reaching for something within
Straining to touch it but cannot tell what
We all are pilgrims and artists; oh God
Called and commissioned by Your love and grace
Our spills and stumbles fall to Your embrace
Pictures of pardon and hope brushed on sod
© Janet Martin
Guilt assaults me the instant those words left my mouth, ‘nothing ever stays clean around here’.
Victoria continues stirring her hot chocolate completely un-alarmed offering words of amused sympathy and suddenly I know I am not ready for a quiet, sterile house.
After she leaves for school I wander through messy rooms capturing ‘blessing in disguise’.
Even so, I believe a little organizing of ‘blessing’ is in order!
Victoria is painting a house-warming gift to give to Emily when she returns from her honey-moon in a few days.
*Mount Wash-more waiting to be conquered! (*a name I read somewhere else:)
And as for you, brothers, never tire of doing what is right. 2 Thess.3:13