Where I Come From...

 My 4th Birthday

I come from wild flower fence-rows and grass rural routes

From clover-sweet meadows and muddy barn-boots

I come from co’-boss calls and farm-life joys

From ‘I’m the 3^rd of ten children; five girls and five boys’

I come from Daily Bread mornings and evening prayer nights

From ‘listen to your parents’; ‘many-hands-make-work-light’

I come from itchy stockings and worn hand-me-downs

From everybody’s talking while the food’s passed around

I come from learning how to flute a pie-crust

From piled in the station-wagon ‘in God we trust’

I come from hard work and front-yard baseball

From a two-cookie rule or the cookies ‘is all’

I come from ‘Everyone needs to do their part’

From a hymn-singing mother with a gentle heart

I come from a Daddy who taught us of God

And whistled while he tilled both souls and sod

I came from God’s country; I was sure of that

As the rooster crowed early and the dog chased the cat

And the grain turned amber in the summer sun

As did care-free children in the pasture pond

I come from a quaint, two-room country school  

Eight grades of book-learning and the golden rule

Cartoons were pictures and words in the paper

And television was something we once saw at the neighbor

I come from sister-spats and singing four-part harmony

As we husked mountains of sweet-corn beneath the willow tree

Oh, I am who I am not by some fluke ho-hum

I am who I am because of where I come from

© Janet Martin

"What are sister-spats?", asks Victoria, my youngest daughter as we read the poem together. "Well", I said, "I guess it's like little fights".
"Oh Mom",she replied, aghast! "You fought with your sisters?! I didn't think you ever fought" ;-0

This is the time of year I always ask myself ‘How did my mother do it?!”  The four oldest in our family are celebrating our birthdays.

Oldest daughter, June 16 1964,

Oldest son, May 30,1965,

Next daughter(me) June 7 1966,

Next son, May 28, 1967,

after that 3 more daughters, then 3 sons!

While we grew up we were ‘the four oldest’, ‘the three little girls’ and ‘the three little boys’. I remember Mom saying my youngest brother had six mothers. This past Sunday I attended a 40 year school reunion. The two-room school is now a three-room school but wow, what a trip down memory lane.  Tonight while I was washing dishes and watching the rain fall suddenly ‘where I come from’ washed over me…

Life's Miles

   

 Image Source

Life has many glorious miles

Where winds are kind and sunshine smiles

Where grass is soft beneath our feet

And flowers bountiful and sweet

Life has many grueling miles

Of hurt and dirt and sorrow’s trials

Where fears and tears torment, bequeath

We chew the grit between our teeth

Life has many merry miles

Where mercy’s tender touch beguiles

Filling our mouths with melody

And happy hearts with charity

Life has many lonesome miles

Robbing the lips of laughing smiles

As twists and turns would make us fall

But God is faithful through them all

© Janet Martin

No Halls of Fame in Heaven

There are no halls of fame in Heaven

The ground is level at the cross

We employ the gifts He's given

None are greater than, or less

We serve, not for vain recognition

But with humble heart and soul

Knowing God knows our ambition

He can see the unmasked whole

There are no halls of fame in Heaven

Though the enemy suggests

To us that there might be a difference

God loves each of us the best

The inheritance of Heaven

Is for all who will believe

In the gift of God’s redemption

As His mercy we receive
 

Jesus died for every person

Each must strive for the reward

There are no halls of fame in Heaven

Where all glory is the Lord

© Janet Martin

Sometimes it's easy to look at someone else and think their service is more important, more honorable perhaps...

"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

...for, "Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved." Rom.10:13

The Prize

How soon we become distracted

By what impedes our view

To keep our eyes upon the Prize

Is not always easy to do

Lord, help us to be faithful

With love’s humility

And keep our eyes upon the Prize

In spite of what we see

Love never fails though often

We cannot understand

With earth-dimmed eyes we seek its Prize

Held in Love’s nail-scarred Hand

This world is torn and troubled

Yet we must journey on

Keeping our eyes upon the Prize

When life’s short race is run

Within this broken turmoil

Abides both hope and grace

Lifting our eyes toward the Prize

Beyond life’s little race

© Janet Martin

 

Knowledge and Wisdom

We may have knowledge

To cover the earth

But it’s what we do with it

That measures its worth

***

Knowledge on its own

Is not of much use

Knowledge without wisdom

Is like a tree without roots

***

One may absorb a world of knowledge

Yet be unprepared for the strife

Of living, for wisdom is not found in college

But in the lessons of life

***

Knowledge without wisdom

Is like a ship without a sail

Its hold is full of luggage

At the mercy of the gale

***

Knowledge is a hat

Wisdom is a crown

© Janet Martin

(I began this as a 'Thursday thoughts' post, but Thursday ran out of hours:)

The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding. Prov. 4:7

Scripture teaches us the importance of knowledge and wisdom and understanding.

Arabesque Avalanche

The flowers walk past me while I’m standing still

The moon climbs the stairs to its heavenly hill

The moments that held such mystery and appeal

Fall into the fairway of history’s seal

It seems to happen while I’m standing still

The babies that held me are taller than I

Someday perhaps they will teach me to fly

It happens so quickly, the ebb and the flow

Over, beneath me, holding, letting go

Now my babies are bigger and braver than I

Arabesque oceans of hours and years

Surging in memory over thought’s phantom piers

Am I standing still while Time rushes ahead?

For I see a lifetime unravel its thread

In shimmering laughter and tears

© Janet Martin

Remember twirling on a rope-swing, spinning, spinning, then stopping while the world continued to tilt and twirl...that's what it feels like sometimes; Life, twirling by while I feel myself in slow-motion, trying to take it all in!

 

Moments are like bubbles...as we catch them they disappear.

Wanderers...

 

We never know where we will wander

Over the misty morn

Or back to the days of childhood

Where memories are tarnished and worn

Together we traverse the rafters

Of midnight; the moon-garnished sea

Drinking the hope and the laughter

Of echoes or what yet might be

The pathway of thought and desire

Suffers no boundaries

We ruffle the hemlock spire

With longing’s languid melodies

Deeds are the dust that we reckon

Words are the letters we blend

But now silver-soft eons beckon

Where only a thought can transcend

We never know where we will wander

When Muse spills her enchanting font

Giving permission to squander

White whispers of wishes and want

Beyond blue horizons we ramble

Reaching for perception’s vague ken  

As thought and I freely amble

In search of a poem to pen

© Janet Martin

As Daylight Closes its Doors

Dandelion halos gleam pink in the dusk

As daylight closes its doors

The air heavy-laden with mist-silver musk

Wafting from shimmering shores

Over the meadowland drifts the sweet swell

In lyrics of vesper and lark

As God breathes a masterpiece of fond farewell

Beneath the soft-stilly dark

Somnolent beauty in sable surrender

Where does the twilight begin?

Over the landscape in deepening splendor

Somewhere the night settles in

Against the emerald indulgence of noontide

Somber tones snuff shades of day

Draping a shawl over slumbering country-side

Ebony, charcoal and gray

Into the archives of never-returning

Dawn’s darling diadem slips

Gone is its pithy allotment of yearning

Erased by God’s fingertips

Dandelion halos fade into oblivion

As daylight fades into the deep

And all we have left of its azure pavilion

Are love’s tender memories to keep

© Janet Martin

We are at the time of year when the sun sets at the end of the highway... one never can tell where the light stops and the dark begins; it moves in deepening, deepening but how, we cannot tell!

What Makes a Successful Marriage?

 

 Image Source

For all the words written, repeated and referenced

For all the books gathering dust on our shelves

Marriage must be a constant endeavor

To put the other before ourselves

‘Easier said than done’, that’s a promise

It seems that Self is a dominant voice

Subtle and always eager to be noticed

Willing to be our soothing first choice

Two become one but with two opinions

Two become one in new love immersed

and Marriage will be a beautiful union

Only if each puts the other first

Alone it is hard to apply resolution
The tie that binds two hearts near and dear
Must be secured by a Third divine portion
God will enable us to persevere

© Janet Martin

Love-lessons in marriage are endless! On Monday hubby and I, Lord willing, will celebrate 25 years of learning! The analysis of what I have learned is this;

Two selfish people= disaster.   

One selfish person= abuse.  

No selfishness= Happy marriage
(or instead of no selfishness perhaps simply; each seeking selflessness)

We have experienced seasons in each of these categories.

It Must be May...

When the whole world is washed with green

And splashed with lilacs in between

Indigo heights and emerald tray

Then I think that it must be May

When latticework of scrawny limb

Is traced and graced with leaf-lace trim

And sudden showers come to play

Well, then I think it must be May

When sparkling brooks laugh through the land

To chatter over sludge and sand

In ribbons blue and silver-gray

Then I am sure it must be May

...the gold of dandelion rush

The pink of apple-blossom blush

The rainbow of tulip foray

All seem to sing, 'it must be May'

It must be May when all the world

Is nature’s virgin bud unfurled

As earth dons garments floral-green

Where winter’s faded robes had been

© Janet Martin

I am always rather reluctant to relinquish May...

More Than Mouthed Repetitions...

 

I should never want to take

For-granted all the pleas I make...

'Lord, help us seek the true and good

And fill our hearts with gratitude

Lord, keep us safe and watch, I pray

Our thoughts and actions; what we say

And help us this day not to waste

Its moments in dull, heedless haste

Lord, fill with gladness every task

And teach us what we ought to ask'

© Janet Martin

An inexplicable wave of wonder surged through me as I prayed with the school-kids before they left this morning. Often a prayer’s words seem repetitious, yet our needs are new every morning, just as is God’s mercy!

Heart or Mind?

 

Is it the mind that shapes my thought

In images of unformed art

Within this cage of flesh and blood

Or is it after all, my heart?

I cannot separate the two

And yet they bicker constantly

The dreamer and task-master feud

Where mind and heart oft disagree

Is it the heart that drives the mind

Or must the mind persuade the heart?

Often it seems I cannot find

A way to tell the two apart

© Janet Martin

As I studied verses on thought they spoke mostly not of the mind but of the heart. H-m-m-m...here a just a few of those verses.

A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of. Luke 6:45

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. Prov.4:23

 You brood of vipers, how can you who are evil say anything good? For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of. Matt 12:24

It Seems the Mind is Filled With Thoughts...

 

It seems the mind is filled with thoughts

Of meager livings toil and spoil

Of mysteries God’s hand allots

Upon this sorrow-stricken soil

The mind; it bears our fantasies

The onslaught of love’s fears and tears

It shapes upon its hidden seas

The hunger of life’s little years

How is it that the mind can bear

The weight of wars that test us so

While hope runs whispers like a prayer

Across its capricious plateau?

The tender turmoil of farewell

Re-echoes through its corridors

And in its alabaster shell

The breakers dash against its shores

The mind endures both joy and grief

The fickle foibles of the flesh

It reels in wordless disbelief

As surrender and strength enmesh

It is the cup where faith and fear

Mingle in contrasting alloy

Spilling into the atmosphere

As hand and heart and mouth employ

© Janet Martin

 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.  Phil. 4:8

Of Moments, Miles and Memories

Dream a Little Dream of Me

If we could rearrange moments and miles

And draw back yesterday from ether-blue

So we could bid careless farewells adieu

To kiss and cradle long those parting smiles

We would; but we cannot retrieve one sigh

Nor force into the bud the unfurled bloom

How swift the flower spills its fragrant plume

And bleeds its perfumed petals to the sky

Mingling with mortal merriment and tear

A flicker on this tiny blue-dot sphere

Passion and parting rend our inner deep

Moments melt into nothing, like the snow

An hour has no reins, its lilting flow

Shaping the miming memories we keep

The tempest of its echo stirs our tears

Yet there is no merit in looking back

Weeping for yester-years unyielding track

For even now this moment disappears

Leaving its little love-line on our face

And in our hearts a memory to trace

Moments of love, longing and loss converge

Future, present and past; they coalesce

To ravage our thought, keen and noiseless

Stealing our breath within their potent surge

Yet, thought is powerless to rearrange

The days that murmur twixt our cooling touch

As the expanse of moments, miles and such

Compile to shape the ache that comes with change

Sometimes I wish that I could shift those miles

To kiss and cradle long love’s farewell smiles

© Janet Martin

Take the time today, to kiss and cradle loved ones within reach

Tomorrow, today will be washed away like a footprint on the beach

And none of us can say who will be here; who will be gone

So take the time today to hold and kiss and cradle long…

J~

My Almost-Poem

Snuffed, like a candle by the weeping wind, your tendrils drift

Unchained, unwoven, melody of mist on silver sage

Un-etched in ink against a blotted page

Where do you rove, oh, dear and darling wisp?

The echo of a moment almost kissed

Have you found for yourself a home, sweet home?

Do you fly now; free as a kite with no string

Or did you plummet to the dirt like a bird with a broken wing?

Will you be a vagabond, forever to roam?

Are you happy; my dear, darling almost-poem?

I would have held and shaped you, sweet shadow-thought

But you slipped away beneath my glance

Melting to the brawny breeze, now you dance

Far from my touch; or have you perchance been caught

And by the pen of another poet, taught?

© Janet Martin

Life-song or Dirge?

This rain-song spilling over hill and plain

Or hissing beneath tires on the street

And gathering in puddles on the lane

To taunt the eager tread of childish feet

Is it the merry melody of May?

This canticle of silver eighth-note splurge

Heralding the dawn of a new day

Is it a life-song or celestial dirge?

Minute eclipses wash in moment-tides

From shore to shore; we live, laugh, love and learn

For who can see the brink where we collide

With mystic fathoms from which none return?

The flower lifts its cup to heaven’s draught

We lift our hands to partake of an hour

Before its filament dissolves to naught

Within the triumph of mute moment-power

Time is a drop tipped from a phantom grail

Its pier a grain of sand held in the clutch

Of ever-after’s infinite exhale

Where none escapes its everlasting touch

Who can translate the lilting doggerel

Of rain-song as it falls, a silver surge

Of pitter-patter greeting and farewell

Is it a life-song or a solemn dirge?

© Janet Martin

This morning the rain falls like a love-song…gentle and steady. For some of us it is merely a stanza in our life-song, for others a farewell dirge.

Live, laugh, love,

Dance in the rain,

For this day will never

Pass by again!

Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. James 4:14

Of Motives and Men

Lord, may our motive ever be

Not to out-do our fellowman

But simply, with humility

To be the very best we can

We all are creatures formed by You

Shaped differently yet much the same

Our motive in all that we do

Should be to glorify Your name

Forgive us Lord, if foolishly

We seek to gather praise of man

But help us to strive honestly

For You, to do the best we can

© Janet Martin

It seems track-and-field brings up the opportunity to speak of rejoicing with those who excel and if we happen to be one of those, then not to boast but to give God thanks for the ability.(the same applies academically, right?) In life's contests it really is about being the very best we can and then we have nothing to be ashamed of!

 I was so proud of Victoria as she graciously accepted mostly blue ribbons after 6 years of gleaning red. She has a class-mate who grew tall, lean and strong in the past year and this girl was beaming from ear to ear.

Rejoice with those who rejoice...even if there is a sting of disappointment.

Monday Morning in North America

 May we never forget those who fought/fight for freedom to enjoy  'a hard hat and a hammer'!

He grumbles that the food was cold

The price too high

And portions small

He fumbles for loose change

His cell phone rings

He takes the call

Outside the door the sunshine pools

In golden puddles

On the walk

The crossing guard waves from her post

A morning fixture

On the block

The laughter of a little child

And mother lingers

On the air

‘Fill ‘er up’ and ‘hey, what’s new’

‘My, how time flies’

Tongue’s common fare

We punch the clock to pay our bills

And marvel at

How swift kids grow

And no one thinks about a field

All lined with crosses

Row on row

© Janet Martin

Of Perfect, Ordinary Days...

Years from now I won’t recall

How the sky draped, an azure shawl

Against the hills of emerald sweep

Or how a bud unfurled its deep

To grace the lowly lilac limb

With purple starlet diadem

In moments embraced near and dear

Against the back-drop of a tear

…or how the glimmer of an hour

Untwisted from time’s mystic bower

Pleased, teased, appeased thought’s hungry touch

Then slipped to naught within its clutch

Where filaments of this fine day

Like morning mist melted away

Anchored within gossamer glow

Where myriad forerunners go

And years from now I won’t recall

The tug as apple-blossoms fall

Pink fragments of an afternoon

Shaping Time’s soft, insistent tune

As love and longing’s harmony

Composes a sweet melody

Slipping into the silver haze

Of perfect, ordinary days

© Janet Martin

We Will Never Be Alone

 

Wherever life may lead today

Through meadows plush or fields of stone

Though skies gleam gold or glower gray

We will never be alone

Autumn may snuff the boast of spring

Beneath Time’s weight of truth we groan

Yet in spite of what life may bring

We will never be alone

Though loneliness clenches our hearts

And pricks the core beneath our bone

Cling to the comfort Love imparts

For we will never be alone

What God has promised He will do

Dream-dust and tears are soon wind-blown

We cling to His word; it is true

And we will never be alone

© Janet Martin

Morning Celebration Song

Upon earth’s shores of sod we pause

To drink Hope’s wonder in

Dumbfounded in our thought because

Love cleanses our sin

Not love of mankind’s feeble schemes

But love coursing in red

The blood of Jesus Christ redeems

Where law and works fall dead

See how His grace unfolds the dawn

Then soon day’s breadth expires

The bud unfolds to sing its song

Then falls beneath wood-spires

The love of Jesus Christ our Lord

Flows infinite, eternal

From God to man freely out-poured

From Mystery supernal

For hatred, love; for our greed, hope

And for our sin redemption

We bow upon earth’s transient slope

In humble celebration

© Janet Martin

Amazing Grace

 

Of Fairy-tales, Nursery Rhymes and Dreamers...

Maybe there’s a little Cinderella in all of us

Waiting for a prince to come to the ball

Maybe in those poor, lonely, lovely eyes of blue

There is happily-ever-after, after all

Petals, stars, Humpty-Dumpty and tears fall

None can be put back together again

And if the dreamer out-lives the dream

He is miserable above all men

© Janet Martin

Just watched Inside Daisy Clover; some stark and moving scenes!

Still-life Pageant

 

Oh, still-life pageantry embellishing the air

How fluently you come to me

Like whispers in a prayer

Then run those whispers near where I can almost touch

The echo of those days I love

In scenes I miss so much

Though my cup over-flows with laughter, love and hope

I feel the kiss of longing’s bliss

Ravage thought’s hidden slope

And when the day is still or filled with spring’s cadence

Then suddenly you come to me

In tender confidence

Oh, still life pageantry from fathoms silver-blue

I touch your face as I embrace

Those tender thoughts of you

© Janet Martin

This year's spring-cleaning is unlike any other. I am packing boxes for my daughter who is moving out when she gets married in the fall... a separate container with winter things, a 'don't send it to the thrift-store 'cause Emily might want it' box,  etc...Much opportunity for reflection and echoes.

Cherish the moment soon to be a memory!

Sheaves...

So, here we are

Another sheaf of moments granted

 For us to pursue

And we do,

Opening them with coffee,

As morning spills its silver silk

Over the hill

Into the valley

And mercy spills

Its gracious hope

To the heart

So here we are,

On this forward-facing journey

Not to the grave

But to a Gate

As we press fear into prayer

And hope into faith

Sweeping up spilled cheerios

And toast crumbs

With purpose

Because this sheaf of moments

Comes but once

So, here we are

The thresholds of flood and famine

Someday will

Fall away

As faith becomes sight

And treasure chests are opened

To reveal

The measure of our love

And the treasure of our hearts

Proven in sheaves

Of gathered moments

© Janet Martin

Quandary of the Spring-steward

Shall we declare this day a day of rest

And set aside our brooms and tools or plows

To taste in full the little wind that blows

Through lilac bloom and pastures newly dressed?

Then will we pause to touch those fingertips

Unfurling green in vast and sundry hues

Or savor purples, pinks and golden-blues

Spilling garrulously from nature’s lips?

Or shall we carry on and strive instead

To drink the cup of blessing midst our toil

Praising the God who nurtures soul and soil

For if we dance then who will buy our bread?

© Janet Martin

Arms of Love

Even as we grumble, stumble,

On this broken road of life

Even as we ponder, wonder

At its thrusts of grief and strife

Even as we clamor, stammer

Stilted prayers to God above

We are not alone but ever

Carried in His arms of love

© Janet Martin