Metamorphosis of Now...

 We have returned from a week away at the cottage...

a different sort of week as people came and went

as jobs required and released

(the cottage is close enough to home to make this possible)

Gone are the years when everyone could

take the same week off and stay.

so instead of looking back and mourning the past

we open our hearts and embrace

the ever-changing present

 precious time with Grandchildren...

 a bit of reading time...

listening to lake counsel, mesmerized by its varying tones...

 front row seat to the heavens declaring the glory of God!

among some of the week's pleasures

Change does not happen overnight

But oh, it always does

The Thing that is slips out of sight

Into the Way it Was

Wrapped in the rush of when and how

The metamorphosis of now

For what it’s worth ‘this too shall pass’

Nothing can hold its own

Against the trickle in a glass

That is not overthrown

But shapes time’s grains with subtle ease

Into a chain of memories

Time teaches us to cherish now

We have no more…or less

With which to learn, teach, reach and bow

Beneath farewell’s address

Where no one knows how near or far

To that Gateway called death we are

These numbered days, a gift from God

Ought to tune us with awe

Only a fool ignores his prod

Or sets a stubborn jaw

Where Time is like a wave that rolls

Toward the shoreline of our souls

Take heed, and treat with tender care

What none can own or keep

And fold that fist into a prayer

Lest you die in your sleep

Where now is always on the verge

Of where what is to Was will merge

So guard with wary gravity

Thought’s self-indulgent thirst

For by our very natures we

Are want and longing cursed

But He who does not change or shift

Helps us to find joy in His gift

© Janet Martin

OH!!! and last but not least
Jim playing scrabble on a rainy day
(doesn't he look like he's having the time of his life?!😂😂😂)

sharing a verse I've shared many times...

 Teach us to number our days, 

that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Psalm 90:12

When We Pray...

It's summer-break time so this will be
the last post for a week or two!
God bless and keep.

Psalm 68:17
The chariots of God are tens of thousands--thousands of thousands are they; 

the Lord is in His sanctuary as He was at Sinai.

Psalm 104:4
He makes the winds His messengers, flames of fire His servants.

2 Kings 6:17
Then Elisha prayed, “O LORD, please open his eyes that he may see.” 

And the LORD opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw that the hills 

were full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.

We have within a whisper’s reach, nay, closer yet than this

Access to a shelter beneath the roar of much amiss

The Unknown like the Red Sea rolls; faith’s enemies pursue

But we may still have confidence to fearlessly pass through

We have within surrender’s grip hope’s lifeline held secure

Because of He who left His throne our pardon to endure

Twixt folded fingers, bended knee and heart yielded and still

We may approach the throne of grace to Mercy’s perfect will

We have, no matter who or where we are, an equal claim

No one greater or lesser as we call upon His name

His eyes are on the righteous; his ears open to their cry

Where, when we pray God’s chariots of fire fill the sky

© Janet Martin

Psalm 34:15 (click link to read the whole glorious chapter!)

The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous,
and His ears are inclined to their cry


Morning Meditation

As feet touch down on the Great Unknown
Is it not sweet to know
We have access to Mercy's throne
Wherever we may go

Where all that stand twixt Him and us
As we bow down to pray
Is our own unwillingness
To trust Him and obey

 © Janet Martin

Delightfully Defeated

 This poem began on what was going to be a quick walk home from the mechanic,

just a few country-lanes away, but

turned into a stroll of sweet summer-seduction

You win I say to the blade of grass all liquid-glass bejeweled

You win I say to the lily-lamp by quadrillion sun-watts fueled

You win I whisper to Queen Ann’s Lace that gilds the field of wheat

You win I sigh to the upturned face of any bloom I meet

To the bird that tweets from the lofty sheaf

To the herd that grazes on thistle and twitch

To the sun-ray snared on a rim of leaf

To manifold marvels that charm and bewitch

You win I say to the dirt-road-lure that dangles from the sky

You win I say to the curl of vine that tangles with my sigh

You win I whisper to freckled grins and cherub-chubby cheeks

You win I laugh to love’s Autograph where brand new morning breaks

To the hummingbird as it hover and darts

To the undeterred wonder of bud to bloom

To July’s invincible thief of hearts

To the curious mechanics of the spud-loom

You win I say to the hollyhock stalk dressed in pretty pink

You win I say to the way a day can spill oceans of ink

You win I cede to the russet reed drinking the shallows dry

You win, I admit to the butterfly, cloud-schooners drifting by

To hazy, lazy afternoon rain

To the daisy; he/she loves me, loves me not

To the waves that wash through a field of grain

To wishes come true in a vegetable-plot

You win I say to the clay pot hosting sprig of lavender

You win I say to the rain-drop mirroring in miniature

You win I whisper to translucent leaf splayed against the sun

You win I weep where lyrics hound until a poem is spun

You win, you win, yes, you win, and you win,

I say to sweet summer’s splendour of the earth

You win, you win, yes and you win again

As another hymn of sheer gladness gives birth

© Janet Martin

When On Love's Wounds We Meditate...

 ...lest I make a fuss about things not needful!😆

(it's not that bad, really!)

Who knew all these years later the hanky from my gramma

that became church-mice and babies in a  hammock
and many other folded creations,

as I sat for two hours in church every Sunday morning,

would become a mask!!!

I also have a 'real' one, don't worry!

(sometimes when I forget what's really important it's good to

take time to revisit and remember.)

When on love’s wounds we meditate

And contemplate the price

Of He who left heaven’s estate

To be sin’s sacrifice

Then what we suffer here below

Begins to dwarf in scale

For He, whose grace whereby we go

Grants love that will not fail

When we revisit Calvary

And stand among the men

Who nailed his body to the tree

(and we were one of them)

Then we begin to humbly see

How filthy we had been

How utterly unworthy we

That His blood washes clean

Then we with sorrow-mingled joy

Are overcome with awe

God’s grace is free without decoy

His love is Mercy’s law

And should I take my eyes off He

Who suffered in my stead

Lord, lead me back to Calvary

Beneath the blood You shed

© Janet Martin