Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label acceptance. Show all posts

Sunday, August 1, 2021

Ultimate Joy


Today we are have a family reunion/ 90th birthday party for my husband's mother.
It looks like there is the potential for a lot of rain to fall in that time frame.
How often in life do we pray for sun but rain is sent instead?
Yet, if we pray 'Thy will be done' He helps us, dry or wet!









My kiddos that come during the week LOVE a good rain-shower
because it always brings sweet splashing puddles.
This week it poured while toddler wailed and tugged my hand because she wanted to play outside.
But the thunder rolled and lightning flashed and Janet did not relent.
Little One, in the moment, did not understand why. 
A bit like us toddlers sometimes, with our Heavenly Father, isn't it?

Heavenly Father, help us to remember You know best!
Help us to...
 'grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
 To him be glory both now and forever!
 Amen.
2 Peter 3:18

...and not to throw toddler-tantrums when we don't get
what we want when we want it!


We pray for sunshine but if rain is Thy reply
Lord, help us to give thanks and not to fret with futile ‘why’

We pray that we would be a lamp your love shines through
Reflecting, in humility, the love we have for You

Then, whether loss or gain, wish granted or denied
We pray dear Lord, in sun or rain, You will be glorified

We pray for grace to meet the day with hearts at rest
As our joy is made complete in knowing You know best

© Janet Martin

A blessed day of rest and worship
to you and yours!
Oh! and Happy August💕




The author of this hymn is living testimony of its words
Here is a link to her story.

Friday, April 16, 2021

Thus She Has Promised To Be True


How long are you going to keep this (poem/poems-a-day) up, I've been asked.
I can't say, really, other than
As long as God provides the 'page'

Why is this my answer?
'what is the use of poetry'?!
Is it really His calling/gift to me, or simply my passion/outlet?
So, as I prayed I made a decision that until I sense his confirmation I will take a break!
I climbed into bed and picked up a book I just purchased from a local Thrift Store. 


After rifling through its poem-pages, trying to decide which ones to read
I decided to start on the very first page...


(the whole page)

I have not looked back since (only up)
until the Giver deems otherwise...

Thus, this student asks for grace from those 
who are far more fluent, educated etc.
By the grace of God, write I,
for his honour and glory
with gratitude for what He gave (and withheld)!

When I was a youngster I was sure that shining athletic abilities, esp.
in volleyball or baseball was where true happiness lay!
So I would practice literally for hours throwing/heaving
a ball into the air and catching it. 
My payoff? black eyes, and skinned elbows and knees
 as Best Effort stumbled and slipped and misjudged...
(Contrary to what I was told, practice simply would/did not make perfect)
To this day still, when I throw a ball
 where it will land, in which direction, is anybody's guess.
Yes, often behind me, and I'm still baffled
as to how that happens😂

I have discovered that happiness lies in accepting and being grateful
for what is lent and Thus, being mindful on how it is spent.


He cupped her in His hands and said
No athlete, This Wee Miss, instead
I’ll weave within Her filigree
A soul that aches with poetry
A hunger, not appeased with bread

I’ll plant her dust with word-lust’s corm
Not gift of gab, nor dancer’s form
But ears to hear and eyes to see
The Font of would-be poetry
To take her modest frame by storm

I'll let a poem fill the gaps
That some assuage by swimming laps
I'll let a page produce the rush
That some engage with paint and brush
I'll tune Her to the tree that claps   

Thus, she has promised to be true
To tides that rush her through and through
In oceanic ebb and flow
To grapple with the undertow
Of poems without voice or hue

There is a world that waits to shine
Its gates pearled with breath-soft design
Where trust must pry a sigh apart
To trace the trestles of the heart
And wrestle stars to lilt and line

She reaches up, feels for the hands
That cupped Her as He wove her strands
To sift the quickened sands of time
And snare its rhythm into rhyme
Knowing the Weaver understands

When is enough, Enough, some ask
While heavens tip dawn’s mercy-flask
While hills and rills run wild with spring
While His touch instills everything
That fits the poet for her task

© Janet Martin



You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;
 the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, 
and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.
Isa.55:12

Saturday, June 1, 2019

To The Class Of We Who Are Getting Older


Happy 55th birthday, Hubby!

 Wow, it feels like we simply spin a wheel and another year has passed!
Jim, here is your favorite kind of poem; short😊😍😝

Seasoned Thrills...

No use in pretending
What none can disguise
Where each day is sending
New kinds of surprise
in creak, grunt and groan
as we ease out of beds
and the only youth we own
is inside our heads
But that's okay, darling
If the good Lord so wills
We are just at the beginning
Of love's 'seasoned thrills'

So here's to hoping whatever we weather
We (try to) enjoy coping and discovering 'seasoned thrills' together!
Love, your wife




It’s the prick and the kick and the stumble
The sting in the un-compliment
That keeps the whole lot of us humble
And glad for the simple content
Of living each moment with honour
And knowing, no matter what waits
The One who has granted the hour
No Charge of His Mercy forsakes

It’s the hope and the joy of love’s promise
The looking for something Far More
That keeps the sad lot of us honest
With what only fools will ignore
For oh, what a pitiful struggle
If, after Time’s unflinching Must
All that we accrue for its trouble
Is nothing but ashes and dust

It’s the arm flung over a shoulder
The more selfless, tenderer touch
That keeps we who are getting older
From not minding it quite so much
Where there is no hope of returning
To lavish Youth’s lust of the eye
But always new seasons of learning
And always new reasons to try

It’s finding a beauty much sweeter
Than frames before visage unfurled
It’s seeing, as wrinkles run deeper
Life’s finest faces in the world
It’s tasting, in utter amazement
The flavors of kick-prick-and-sting
And finding a purer replacement
That only surrender can bring

It’s making the most of each moment
Where aches and pains will have their say
It’s seeing the gift, not the garment
It’s treasuring ev’ry new day
It’s laughing instead of lamenting
What none have the means to escape
It’s thanking instead of pretending
As the truth of lost youth takes shape

© Janet Martin

 
Psalm 40:4
Blessed is the man who has made the LORD his trust, who has not turned to the proud, nor to those who lapse into falsehood!

 
Proverbs 16:20
Whoever heeds instruction will find success, and blessed is he who trusts in the LORD.

 "But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him.
Jer.17:7

 For distress does not spring from the dust, and trouble does not sprout from the ground.
However, if I were you, I would appeal to God and lay my cause before Him…
Job 5:6-8

Monday, May 20, 2019

Looking Beyond What We See


 Yesterday's Sunday morning message challenged us to rethink our attitudes on suffering !
Often we pray to be freed/healed from them when in fact, scripture teaches otherwise!

 ...and then, while I was working on this post up came this post on Ann Voskamp's blog!

Look, but look beyond the beauty brimming from the beaming bloom
Look, but look beyond the duty of the modest mop and broom
Look beyond the pond that sparkles like a rhinestone in the sun
Look, but look a little deeper than the sweep of seasons spun

Look, but look beyond the panoramas stirring sacred sighs
Look, but look beyond the frond that lavishes the earth, then dies
Look beyond time’s bitty bubble that does not burst to thin air
Look, but look beyond the trouble to the One who put it there

Look beyond the work that is more than the sweat of toil to sod
Look beyond the hurt that sometimes drains us enough to trust God
Look beyond want’s fondest ‘druthers’ to the Place of faith’s reward
Look, but look beyond the surface to the grace of Christ our Lord

© Janet Martin



  And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 
1 Pet.5:10 
 
 For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, 
worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; 
2 Cor.4:17
 
 that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, 
and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, 
Phil.3:10 

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Simply Steppingstones...


As soon as I question Your ways, God
I forget my place
I am a sinner washed in Your blood
I am a sinner saved by Your grace!

 But God proves His love for us in this: 
While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Rom.5:8



Lord, let me not forget my place
I am a sinner saved by grace
What you allot, allow, ordain
Help me accept and not complain

The mind and heart of God, who knows
The love wherefrom all blessing flows
Pours in a mercy-tide to we
Who would be hopeless/helpless without Thee

Our anguish cupped in mortal glove
Often misunderstands Your love
Yet, words are inept to explain
The loss You suffered for our gain

Then, in this leap of hold-let go
Remind us, Lord, each high or low
In all we touch, taste, see and do
Are simply stepping-stones to You

…where all we prize of earthly ties
Is but a vault of veiled good-byes
So let us not forget our place
We are but sinners, saved by grace


© Janet Martin

 
Psalm 59:16
But I will sing of Your strength and proclaim Your loving devotion in the morning. 
For You are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

What We Can Choose





So much in life we cannot choose
We ought not sulk or brood
For all the things we cannot change
We choose our attitude

The gray and gold we all must bear
In our allotted part
Our attitude molds and reveals
Reflections of the heart

Take heed for now the unknown spills
In mute half-breath unfolding
We cannot choose life’s good or ill
In moments we are holding

But for all that we cannot choose
We ought not sulk or brood
For everything that comes our way
We choose our attitude

© Janet Martin

I’ve heard men boast with bloated chests at what ‘they own’.
Beware; we have what God allots to test who we become…
We cannot judge by the facade of things, life’s ill or good
We all go by the grace of God; we choose our attitude

A comment on my previous poem We Cannot Choose let me to contemplate the things we have control over and I was stunned to realize that we do not really have control over anything...but our attitude.  

 All go to one place; all are of the dust and all go to dust again. Eccles. 3:20



Tuesday, February 26, 2013

It's a Beautiful Life





The ebbing and flowing of night-morning brings
Mistrals of change wielding Time’s subtle knife
Carving the familiar with new-normal things
But still, it’s a beautiful life

Heart-fringes grow ragged, tenderly tuned
To ripples disguised in life’s surface-borne strife
Keening awareness of moment-drops spooned
Into the cup of a beautiful life

Babies reach, rush to an unformed allure
Soon son or daughter becomes husband, wife
Discovering in time love’s fierce tug-of-war
Shaping this beautiful life

Spring, summer, autumn to winter once more
Moments spill potent and ruthless and rife
Life-song of heart-throbs bleeding on vague shores
Silver-soft echo of a beautiful life

The rising and falling of Time’s gavel brings
Heart-wrenching changes beneath its grim knife
But still in the discourse of its sufferings
Oh, it’s a beautiful life

© Janet Martin

 Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it. Prov. 12:25

Let's cover this day
Layer over layer
With the rarest refrains ever heard
Let's spill on its gray
The tender-sweet showers
Of beautiful, kind, loving words

On some days we need to look a little harder, but its there; The Beauty.