What You Cannot Know (through no fault of your own)

'You didn’t know me then', I sometimes say to my now grown children

 when we talk about something I used to do before they were born, 

such as drive to work at 4:00 a.m. on slippery wintery roads.

 All they know me as is mom who looks after a family’s practical needs!

 (my sis texted me this afternoon about these pages above

and more but you'll have to buy or borrow the book for the rest)😀

The Shape of a Year by Jean Hersey

I think because we have the same mother and we both have daughters

we relate to certain parts of this book on a very mutual level! 

One of my top ten favs ever!

My dear, you cannot understand (by no fault of your own)

How much your mother’s heart expands to hold children full-grown

Or how the girl she was is still a part of who she is

(no matter what changes because Time keeps its promises)

The heart you cannot fathom until you are old as she

Will always still be learning how to hold while setting free

Twixt yester’s child and today’s woman, man her love is torn

Where thankfulness and longing spar in whispers heaven-borne

Yes, she’s been disappointed at love’s disappointments, oh

At how the future is nothing like she dreamed long ago

As God so rich in mercy grants breath-stealing more or less

And teaches her to look closer at ‘what is happiness’

I did not understand back then (through no fault of my own)

How oft my mother’s heart landed before her Father’s throne

Or how once upon long ago my mother used to be

A barefoot maiden filled with dreams foot-loose and fancy-free

Before the call and cares of life joined love and motherhood

And still through all the joy and strife she knew that it is good

How all we did not understand is what waited to be

Sweet thrills of surprise at age-old, newfound discovery

…she waits for passion to become astonished at time’s way

No one can seize the pendulum that dictates night and day

But as the heart expands to hold what soon is left behind

The girl she was will remind her to be patient and kind

© Janet Martin

Vapour Wrapping-Paper

Already today's wrapping has begun to fall away...

in wet, white flakes!

 
Psalm 36:7
How precious is Your loving devotion, O God, 

that the children of men take refuge in the shadow of Your wings.

Today, wrapped in fresh mercy metes its Unknown breath by breath

The wisp of yester-hopes-and-dreams is wrapped in Bygone’s breadth

The wonders of the world, soft-wrapped in morning’s misted gauze

In seasoned measure is unfurled before our rapt applause

Where whether we are wrapped in faith or fear as on we go

We all are wrapped in tender grace by He who loves us so

Longing, wrapped in the ache and pain of wanting what is not

Is wrapped up in the present loss and gain of what we’ve got

The hour, wrapped in moments sheds imminent mystery

The bloom wrapped in green casing waits until God sets its free

Where we are often wrapped up in what scope of sight unveils

Desire, wrapped in feeling often leaps then weeps and wails

Pity the one wrapped in Self-pity and its darkened gaze

Ah, we are all wrapped in the tender tangle of Time’s ways

Its breath-by-breath unfolding what is wrapped in common cares

Of dawn to dusk firm-molding what was wrapped in morning prayers

…or stares wrapped in the empty ache of Unbelief’s cold boast

Resisting to be wrapped in arms of He who loves us most

© Janet Martin

Preparing For Christmas Prayer

I wrote this before the morning began unfolding
And tidiness was filled with the happy sound of children playing.

Bottom right: It's not everyone that gets a lion-audience while cutting carrot-sticks! lol;-)

 Lord, fill us with Perfect Reason

Not to suffer worry's stress

Let the wonder of the Season

Thrill our hearts with happiness

Lord, turn our gaze this Christmas

From wish-lists that drive us wild

Make our mission one of gladness

Celebrating the Christ Child

Dear Lord, let the hope of Jesus

Crush the demons of despair

Let the joy of that First Christmas

Wake in us love’s living prayer

Lord, make our heart a stable
Welcoming Jesus again

Make our worship fit for angels
Peace on earth, goodwill to men 

© Janet Martin

 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven,
the shepherds said to one another,
 "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened,
which the Lord has told us about."
Luke 2:15

  I love Charlie Pride's Christmas songs!

Ode to The Table or I Like Tables...

Last week my brother-in-law who is a table-maker offered me a sweet deal.

A pick-up load of wood-pieces (left after tables are cut out) 

 for an I Like Tables Poem for his Staff Christmas Banquet last night...

And since there is no What's for-supper post to share because I was not home last night

I took a few pics of tables around our house

because tables hold a lot more than just supper...

Kitchen Table...

often heaped with projects in progress

Front entrance table holds 'warm welcome' arrangements

Dining Room table hosts hobbies as well as dinners

 End table...

Ode to the Table or I like Tables

I like tables, they make my heart sing

A table can be used for almost anything

So I’d say an ode to The Table is due

A tip o’ the hat to tables, black, brown and blue

White tables, green tables, espresso or pink

Tables are great in any colour, I think

Ebony, ivory, distressed wood or gold

Stable tables brand new, tables wobbly and old

I like tables

End tables, coffee tables, console tables, oh

Accent tables, night tables, table for the patio

Side table, foyer tables, and drum tables are nice

And a good kitchen table, worth every penny of the price

Drink-tables, work-tables, nesting-tables and such

Dining room tables please me ever so much

Conference-card-ping-pong tables all thrill me lots

Office tables, picnic tables, and tables for tots

I like tables

Industrial tables, farmhouse tables, tables shabby-chic

Scandinavian, Mid-century, modern or antique

Wood veneer, laminate, marble, metal, glass

And my personal favourite, solid wood of course

Sofa tables, times tables (oops, wrong category)

I like tables that hold many an olden story

I like small tables, tall tables to set by a door

And tables that always have room for one more

I like tables

Whether they are dressed in fine runners of silk

Or blessed with the mess of cookie crumbs and spilled milk

Whether set neatly; plate, cup, fork, spoon and knife

Or covered with clutter of everyday life

Whether they are smudged by little fingers or nose

Or polished so shiny every speck of dust shows

Whether they are freshly finished or weathered

Tables gather families and friends together

Oh, I like tables

Round tables, square tables, oval, hexagon

Rectangle tables that can stretch on and on

Tables for serious talks or celebration

There is a table for every (kind of) occasion

Tables for simple fare like bread, jam and tea

Or laden with food prepared for company

Tables where doctors say ‘you can hop up here’

Tables to pull closer to one aged and dear

I like table

(if it gets too long this verse is optional)

Tables are a little like (some) people we meet

Some sound and solid, some flimsy and weak

Tables also come in sundry shapes and sizes

They hold the predictable and grand surprises

They hold homework that births both groan and hurrah

And babies that bring out our best ooh and a-ah

They hold many memories of moments so dear

Oh, tables are so much more than they first appear

I like tables

I like tables where chatter and glad laughter bubbles

Where we gather to ponder challenges and troubles

Tables for fellowship, courtship, playing games

Or counsel when someone slips (let’s not mention names)

Tables for banquets, family altars, flower-bouquets

Tables are handy in all manner of ways

A place to pour bushels of freshly-picked beans

A place to share God’s Word, prayer, hopes and dreams

And no matter what makes other furniture ‘staples’

None of them equals the versatility of tables

Therefore, I like tables, they make my heart sing

And make most meals feel like a prize fit for a king

I like tables, oh, yes I do

And I hope, after hearing this poem

You like them too

© Janet Martin

...and the best part of this story...in the morning while splitting wood for kindling
and eyeing a quickly dwindling wood-pile I had prayed
'Oh Lord, help me find a way to get more wood'
and lo, a few hours later this 'bargain'
Thank-you God!
I can breathe easy as I attack the wood-pile!

This Mortality

My, my, but mortal is master of disaster,

when lured by lust of the flesh, lust of the eye and pride of life!

 (For everything in the world--the lust of the flesh, 

the lust of the eyes, 

and the pride of life--

comes not from the Father 

but from the world.)

1 John 2:16 

It heaves upon the crest of earth in birth and death-wrought spree

It laughs and grieves abreast the breadth of immortality

As Time set in four-season spans twirls like a carousel

And man embarks and exits ‘neath the tolling of its bell

Where we prove, as we learn to love, the nature of the beast

Where deathless soul instills the glove upon which moments feast

And none of us can circumvent the Hour that must be

When we are called to shed the tent of This Mortality

It boasts; oh God forgive us when we forget Mercy’s girt

As we dare to puff out our chests and strut our stuff of dirt

As we forget to smote our breasts and cry out, ‘what is man’

As we ignore the Author and Finisher of our ‘can’

As we make wealth an idol rather than worship’s employ

As we take without uttering one phrase of praise or joy

Where grace is always greater than This Mortality’s mess

And God is always faithful to forgive if we confess

Each travels through this world but once toward a binding goal

When This Mortality becomes the chariot of the soul

Where for now we must all partake of trust’s manifold tiers

As waves of hope and heartache surge and merge with days and years

While dreams are dashed and born anew and lashed by winds of change

And all of us are headed to what Last Gasp will estrange

As we enter that which remains life’s Greatest Mystery

When Mortal sheds its rags and puts on Immortality

© Janet Martin

 For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.

For the perishable must be clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. 

When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable

 and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come to pass: 

 “Death has been swallowed up in victory.”…

1 Cor.15:52-54