I'm feeling blissfully content this morning after dreaming that in an extra-generous spurt I offered to lend our home to a neighbour and her family while we rented an old farm-house down the road.
Hastily we bid good-bye to the house and garden and moved our things out as they moved in.
But as the dust settled I stood in a strange stained-wall-papered room not being able to recall why I thought this was an exciting idea;
we paying rent while I was willing to give our house for free,
and suddenly I wondered anxiously how I was going to explain this hasty move to hubby
when he got home!
I woke as I was staring out through an old storm-window wishing for nothing but this;
I just want to go back home to our old place!
With what we’re lent, Lord, help us be content and not to pine
For what we hold soon fades and falls like flowers from a vine
The beckoning of dawn is soon the reckoning of dusk
The zephyr, warm and giddy blazes trails to gales cold-brusque
Therefore with what we have we ought to learn to be content
The Past is like an urn that cups the ash of seasons spent/moments lent
In flickers ripe with life that sweep from east to westward bars
A wink upon a brink where pink dissolves in ink-set stars
As ebb and flow of highs and low kisses and scars our reach
Lord, help us learn to be content in what Your love would teach
© Janet Martin
(and remembering Normandy/D-day)
He who has little and wants less is richer
than he who has much and wants more.
It's not how much we have,
but how much we enjoy that