Showing posts with label Celtic Thunder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Celtic Thunder. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 31, 2022

Supremely Blessed or Of Fond Farewells


Tonight I bid farewell to August as well as
another summer-season routine of childcare.
Others are bidding farewell this time of year to
students leaving for far-away schools.
Some are suffering the pain of permanent earthly farewells!
What a blessing to love enough to
suffer the pangs of fond farewells!


"I don't want to be rude" said Little girl
"but I feel like I just need to run!"
...and I looked at her and said,
"oh, by all means, run to your hearts content!"💖😊😍


...and run they do taking after Father Time with dust flying at their heels!
Draining every last drop from the joy of the moment!


....leaving so many smiling traces in our faces...
(they named one of these peaches Jim!)😂
(and yes, we will be peeling some of our fruit before we eat it!)😅


...planting and plucking a sense of flowers
in/from the gardens of our hearts...




May we all be blessed, as to bear
Love’s tenderest contests of care
The aching, raking throb that tugs
As words give way to wordless hugs
As bitter-sweetest hunger swells
In heart-tempests of fond farewells

May we all be blessed, as to know
The wresting pangs of letting go
Of searing heartstrings stretched and stretched
Until there is no heartstring left
As love and longing toll soul-bells
In clanging, twanging fond farewells

May we all be blessed, as to feel
The raw essence of silk and steel
Entwined about the inmost crux
Of joy and sorrow’s sacred flux
Between shorelines no ocean quells
As we endure love’s fond farewells

May we all be blessed, as to learn
The best and worst of no return
Where time never replays a day
And all that is can never stay
As arms and hearts weather the swells
Of parting’s precious, fond farewells

We thank love’s Giver for the gifts
That try us with life’s dearest rifts
Reminding us within its test
That we have been Supremely Blessed
Both king and beggar as Time fells
Castles of touch with fond farewells

© Janet Martin



To all the students the world over heading out...





Monday, December 30, 2019

Fault-(finder) Line


 How old is The Child when they cross 'the line' that takes them out of the safety-zone
I wondered yesterday as we oohed and aahed and cuddled and kissed
The Little One who has (gloriously and innocently) not yet crossed 'the line'...
then, still innocently, they do!
And suddenly the 'law of love' seems to change its tone (in some, anyway)
where we are all prone through human nature/aka Adam's curse
 to be guilty at some point in time
of this tone-change...(shame on us)






When do we start with meaner mind
To point fingers with cruel slight
When does the youngster cross the line
That opens them to verbal bite
Is it when they begin to learn
From a teacher none can ignore
Where life is full of twist-and-turn
On roads they never walked before

When are they no longer too young
To be spared from the critic’s grind
Or become fodder for the Tongue
That is untruthful and unkind
When, instead of encouragement
Do they become the scorner’s prize
Where once they gained The Compliment
Now words condemn and criticize

When does the law of love become
More like a cold betrayer’s kiss?
Is it just when they need someone
To remind them, ‘life is like this’
That it is our mistakes and such
That makes us wiser day by day
When, (when they need kindness so much)
 Do they become the gossip’s prey?

How old does someone have to be
When they are beyond two or three
Do they start to become fair game?
Tell me, oh, thou of verbal skill
(Where we are all part of God’s choir)
When is the child ‘fit for the kill’
That puts them in Talk's line of fire

© Janet Martin

No one ever grows old enough
to be fit enough for the gossiper's firing squad

 but no human being can tame the tongue.
 It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.
James 3:8

 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, 
as God in Christ forgave you.
Eph.4:32


Monday, July 29, 2019

Though It Is Still July...

Not all of our family could be at the cottage this year 
and all of them needed to get back to work mid-week. 
Silence seemed exaggerated as the last steps thump-thumped 
up the stairs and away!


The sky seems near to tears
Moved by the word ‘good-bye’
And suddenly October nears
Though it is still July

A blur of Beauty hints
At summer passing by
October’s premonition tints
The green glints of July

I feel the heel of thrills
Leave imprints in each sigh
I reel; October’s aura chills
The foothills of July

Cricket cantata starts
And I cannot deny
October tugs at summer- hearts
Though it is still July

…where fullness of a day
Can drain a season dry
October hides in fields of hay
Though it is still July

© Janet Martin




Monday, August 27, 2018

A Gift From God

I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.
Luke 15:7



Heaven's joy-bells must be clanging overtime these days...
Again yesterday we attended a baptism-service; this time our niece and some of her friends! 
I was struck anew by how, with all the differences that may be visible on the outside 
due to culture, denominations, etc 
The Invisible is the same; the only name whereby we can be saved; 
(Salvation is found in no one else, 
for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved."
Acts 4:12)
Everyone baptized in every service we have attended 
in four different settings over the past few months were baptized in
the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; 
(Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit
Matt.28:19)

so what is Baptism? A visible declaration of an invisible transformation when we
repent and obey the command to then be baptized!
(Peter replied, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Acts 2:38)

What a gift! The power within us to fight temptation and run this race with perseverance!



Now sin no longer reigns
Where grace, not law is Chief
And faith in Jesus breaks the chains
That binds blind unbelief

Not visibly transformed
Yet oh, somewhere within
Mercy’s miracle is performed
Redeemed from curse of sin

Now the Old Man is dead
And buried in the Past
The New Man rises in his stead
And holds Faith’s promise fast

Where we no longer sin
So that grace may abound
But trust the blood that makes us clean
Where Time is Holy Ground

And grace not some cliché
Tossed lightly to and fro
But grace alone atones for aye
And washes white as snow

Through grace no one can boast
Or mortal works applaud
But glorify Hope’s Uttermost
Grace is a gift from God

© Janet Martin

  For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—
and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—   
not by works, so that no one can boast.
Eph.2:8-9


 The above version of this hymn written by William Cowper (pub.1772) 
skips a few gorgeous stanzas...
  1. There is a fountain filled with blood,
    Drawn from Immanuel’s veins,
    And sinners plunged beneath that flood
    Lose all their guilty stains:
    Lose all their guilty stains,
    Lose all their guilty stains;
    And sinners plunged beneath that flood
    Lose all their guilty stains.
  2. The dying thief rejoiced to see
    That fountain in His day;
    And there have I, though vile as he,
    Washed all my sins away:
    Washed all my sins away,
    Washed all my sins away;
    And there have I, though vile as he,
    Washed all my sins away.
  3. Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
    Shall never lose its pow’r,
    Till all the ransomed church of God
    Are safe, to sin no more:
    Are safe, to sin no more,
    Are safe, to sin no more;
    Till all the ransomed church of God
    Are safe, to sin no more.
  4. E’er since by faith I saw the stream
    Thy flowing wounds supply,
    Redeeming love has been my theme,
    And shall be till I die:
    And shall be till I die,
    And shall be till I die;
    Redeeming love has been my theme,
    And shall be till I die.
  5. When this poor, lisping, stamm’ring tongue
    Lies silent in the grave,
    Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
    I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save:
    I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save,
    I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save;
    Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
    I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save.

Monday, November 28, 2016

Splendor-tender November Goodnight



Victoria and I share a deep love for November. 
We are always a little sad to see it go...
Two more days to dance to its moody blues!

 Tonight is thick with the sound of silence...

Sere fields, like still-life banners lie
Hinged to low bars of steely sky
Bare trees, like transfixed sentinels
Stand motionless on hills, in dells
The beds of earth are stark and brown
Waiting for spreads of eiderdown

The wind broods, hollow and forlorn
The woods are dark and shadow-torn
Where lilt of leaf has lost its vim
And lies beneath the tuneless limb
Late day splays solemn like a dirge
As afternoon and twilight merge

The plush rush on dusk’s avenue
 Is veiled in velvet navy blue
As skyline embers guide spent souls
Toward sweet, tender homespun goals
Of bread to break and tea to pour
Of laughter-gentled dinner-hour

Somewhere the air is full of gold
As morning breaks night’s aerial hold
But here the hand of eventide
Gathers November’s countryside
In shrouds of plush deep, purple-blue
As this Today is tucked from view

© Janet Martin

Some good tuck-the-day-away music by Celtic Thunder