Mercy's Door

Above our heads sky-glory spreads

And we can never comprehend

The height and depth and breadth of it

Like God’s great love which has no end

Cradle of moon and stars and sun

Canvas of morning, noon and night

We imitate but cannot paint

The fullness of its dark and light

Above its fathoms hangs a door

From it a loving Savior knocks

Upon our heart; His voice implores

Lest we wait past the tick of clocks

Above our heads His goodness weeps

In grace unmeasured and unbound

Oh, how He longs that we should seek

While grace and pardon may be found

Heaven’s free offering, an ark

Beckoning from Time’s transient shore

Ah, pity he who pounds the dark

After God closes Mercy’s Door

© Janet Martin

Time is like a gracious ark

God's mercy is its door

Heed the invitation 'come'

...soon time will be no more!

I'm Glad for Prayer

…praying for my Dad again this morning. The DR. prefers we visit him when he returns home. He is still in ICU but they hope to move him soon.

I’m glad for prayer

That mystic stair

Where word of thought

Reaches God’s throne

Then as we plead

He fills our need

And whispers,

‘We are not alone’

I hope somewhere

In someone’s prayer

As they make hopes

And wishes known

Perhaps, kindly

They’ll think of me

And lay my name

Before His throne

© Janet Martin

Let’s face it; we all need it! Prayer.

Submission, Love and Happiness

(Well, happiness might be a drink sometimes;)

Submission is the letting go

Of things held, not in hands but hearts

Without it we will never know

The perfect peace that God imparts

Love; manifold, grand mystery

Perplexing pauper, prince and priest

We cannot its true fullness see

Until we make ourselves the least

  

Happiness is not a drink

Or fate’s elusive destiny

Happiness is found, I think

In living's moment-melody

Laughter, under-rated bliss

Ah, how can we enjoy it more?

Submission, love and happiness

It seems, are at its very core

© Janet Martin

After putting this book down for a while because suddenly I was reading a few other books, I have returned to it, reading it slowly so I don’t miss a thing…

“You either see beauty or you do not”, said Peter in a sermon.

“If you do not, no amount of argument can make you see it”

Peter's life is an example of submission and the fruits thereof.

Want a good laugh today? Today's YDP will surely at the least stir a chuckle!

Submission is not outward conforming, but inward transforming

My Grandmother reminded me more than once that until we fully submit our will to God we can never be fully happy!


 He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
    And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
    and to walk humbly with your God.
 Micah 6:8
 

Staring Through a Window on a February Afternoon

The sky-line falls and rises like the tempo of a tune

Where wind stampedes, an obscure tyrant vexing tattered pine

The valley yearns for sparkle of a sun-warm afternoon

With children running barefoot ‘neath the curling merlot vine

The hillside slopes toward the sallow span of waning day

No laughing lover strolls this winter-stricken solitude

Surreal the fancy of spring’s darling apple-blossom May

Where February walks in gray, a maiden plain, subdued

The blustering battalion of sleet-snow-squall regiment

Is in sore need of furlough; we encourage its retreat

How long will Time insist on emptying its discontent

In fresh volley of vandals shod with ice upon their feet?

The doggerel of daisy day-dreams dangles daringly

Beyond the frosted window-pane against the snarling air

Are silver sun-swept seashores but fine fairy frippery?

I’ve heard spring-peepers serenade the dusk, but where, oh where?

The skyline falls and rises; what a moody madrigal

But I am not a damsel in distress nor prone to fret

The horse and rider in the sky is preordained to fall

Thus I know that its steel facade will spill its violets yet

© Janet Martin

Perspective

Bit of a chuckle just now as Victoria lay on the kitchen floor and said, ‘from this angle it could be summer, cause all I can see is green on the tree. No snow!’

We are having a snow day in the area with buses cancelled; not much snow so far. My hunch is it’s more of a ‘hockey day’ than a snow day. I know some places that are letting their guys quit early to catch the game in Sochi between Canada and the U.S.A.

It’s not so much the thing that is

As how we choose to look at it

Circumstance is but the half

We can sing the blues or laugh

Everything lasts 'just a bit'

Life is what we make of it

© Janet Martin

This is not intended to be glib but relating to our trite complaining grounds…I know some people who are dealing with life’s big stuff one step at a time and even what they can make of it hurts. ((hugs/prayers))

...off to watch the game;) 

When the River Runs Free Again...

When the river runs free once more

And herds roam clover-clad rill

When Queen Ann’s lace trims with dainty grace

Fence-row, hollow, field and hill…

When the river runs blue again

Laughing in glimmer so glad

When its song ice-gripped is unchained from its crypt

To pleasure the day-dreaming lad

When the river runs winding and wild

Splashing its way to the sea

When willow and sedge lures lovers to its edge

To revel on heaven’s green knee

When the river runs rampant, released

Washed of winter’s cold remains

The world will be sweet with the dance of bare-feet

And youth running wild in our veins

© Janet Martin

Dear Little Tree...

 October...

 November...

 December...

 January...

February 

 ...the trees have been tested this year with everything winter could throw at it and our 24 hr. mild spell (a degree or two above freezing) is plunging today and for the coming week so no pretty green dress-buds in sight yet...

This morning...

Dear little tree

How long you’ve borne the thrust of winter’s will

How long you’ve worn its garb of white

And suffered its blue chill

Dear little tree,

You stand knee-deep in nature’s cloak resigned

You do not shake your limbs at God

But wait for zephyrs kind

Dear little tree,

You seem to know it is no use to rant

How futile to rebel to snow

And sundry season-chant

Dear little tree,

You’ve suffered long and yet methinks I hear

Within your stilly wood a song

Of springtime drawing near

© Janet Martin

Thank-you God

Dad didn’t get in for his surgery until this afternoon. He was booked for 8:00 a.m. if there were no emergencies. Mr. If did make an appearance.

The wife of the man who was rushed in hugged my mother thanking her for allowing them to do life-saving surgery on her husband.
Dad came out of surgery around 5:00 p.m. It was a triple by-pass and they will wake him up around 9:00 tonight so our prayers continue.

Thank-you God, such simple words

Yet filled with heart and soul

Thank-you for the miracles

That only You control

Thank-you for Your mercies

And the peace within your care

Thank-you God, such simple words

And yet, a perfect prayer

© Janet Martin