Under The Umbrella of God's Care

Today's poem was partly inspired by my morning prayer as I asked God to please spread

His care like an umbrella over me and the kiddos that others entrust to my care...

The verge of what will be soon merges with all that has been

Whether valleys shadowed with death or pleasant pastures green...

While the kiddos play or 'help'...

... I sometimes find things to putter about with...

Pinch me! I feel like I just bedded down the gardens,

and though this may be a bit premature, (because yes,

 I do see the snowflakes in next week's forecast)

I just can't resist the urge to merge with garden-dirt a bit

(because the neighbors got a dog, we sorta did too😀)

(Yesterday morning while I was working in the kitchen I heard a clatter in the laundry room.

apparently the back door did not latch properly

after I hung out the laundry and this dog made himself at home without knocking😂

Nothing is better for a man than that he should eat and drink, 

and that his soul should enjoy good in his labor. 

This also, I saw, was from the hand of God.

Eccles.2:24

Ah, here we are, not very far from learning’s next affair

But always underneath the kind umbrella of God’s care

Because showers of blessing come in every shape and size

Some welcomed with wide open arms, some hard to recognize

We never know what waits to show its face with smile or tear

But oh, the more we trust, the less each of us has to fear

God, we are prone to groan beneath the weight of ‘what might be’

Help us to learn to lean on you with faith’s humility

The gold of beaming rampart unfolds like a work of art

From the grail of God’s mercy to the cup of human heart

Where, here we are, not very far from Love's unfailing Hand

All that we need to do is reach and He will help us stand

The verge of what will be soon merges with all that has been

Whether valleys shadowed with death or pleasant pastures green

We kick the dust of want and must; it rises but to fall

God's grace spreads like an umbrella over one and all

© Janet Martin

The gold of gleaming rampart 

unfolds like a work of art...