Of Climbing and Canvasses

We each have our own range of mountains to climb

Spilling the art of our attitudes where

Accountability sobers our prayer

Urging us upward in reverence of Time

Clandestine cravings and comforts compete

No one but God can behold our hearts

And no one but God perfect pardon imparts

Thus making bearable life’s bittersweet

Over the canvas of daylight our thought

Paints into pictures life’s moiling chagrin

Reaching, ah reaching for something within

Straining to touch it but cannot tell what

We all are pilgrims and artists; oh God

Called and commissioned by Your love and grace

Our spills and stumbles fall to Your embrace

Pictures of pardon and hope brushed on sod

© Janet Martin

Guilt assaults me the instant those words left my mouth, ‘nothing ever stays clean around here’.

Victoria continues stirring her hot chocolate completely un-alarmed offering words of amused sympathy and suddenly I know I am not ready for a quiet, sterile house.

After she leaves for school I wander through messy rooms capturing ‘blessing in disguise’.

Even so, I believe a little organizing of ‘blessing’ is in order!

 Victoria is painting a house-warming gift to give to Emily when she returns from her honey-moon in a few days.

  

Breakfast Remains...

  

*Mount Wash-more waiting to be conquered! (*a name I read somewhere else:)

And as for you, brothers, never tire of doing what is right. 2 Thess.3:13