February/Winter Flowers

I picked the flower puzzle to do (see quandary here) 

because there's just something about flowers

in winter that can't be beat!!

even the pieces look like a handful of petals tossed on a garden path!

So, let's celebrate the last day of February with winter flowers

even if they are painted on cardboard💖😊

They kindle wild dream-pleasure for gardens not planted yet

They gleam with priceless treasure of fond memories to be

They rouse a youthful yearning in the appetites they whet

For perfumed pinks and purples heady with sweet nectar-tea

And like children with rosy faces, kissed by brisk wind-chill

They bloom a little rosier on winter’s windowsill

They delight hearts with visions of a sunny summer’s day

Where butterflies and laughter flit and flirt with honey bee

They make indoors feel friendlier while winter whiles away

As we stroll perfect gardens in a plot of fantasy

A welcome splash of color on a dolor afternoon

They garnish kitchen tables with a glint of May or June

They cheer us with old fashioned charm and make us humbly glad

To be alive where flowers wait to burst the bud with bloom

As blush and gold menageries drive poets gently mad

With so much beauty to behold from Mother Nature’s loom

Primed with a plethora of plumes no tombs can keep at bay 

Unfolding outdoor living rooms still snuggly tucked away

© Janet Martin

Speaking of outdoor living rooms

I would love to try this come spring!

Baking Lavash Bread on Stone Grill

From Country Life Vlog

 

Of Best Laid Plan

One thing we learn over and over is

no matter how important planning is,

and no matter how meticulously each detail is addressed,

or each prospect visualized,

plans, at best, are extremely volatile!

The 'best laid plan' therefore, with humble 'Thy will be done'

should always be entrusted to the Higher Hand

who orchestrates Purpose far beyond the frames we peer through

to hopes and dreams not accomplished yet!

With all the unexpected snow days this winter it seems like possibly

 I am being conditioned for the childcare break coming up.

...or, at least that is the plan😅🙏

Sometimes it feels like life is simply a constant sequence

 of changed plans/ misplaced puzzle pieces!

I'm trying to decide if today is the day 

I commit to starting a puzzle and if so, which one?!

Plans are like phantom pieces to a puzzle thought perceives

Of panoramic vistas wafting on volatile breeze

Where soon, even a child begins to learn the simple fact

How plans at best, are pictures that we cannot keep intact

No matter how meticulously we try to arrange

The pieces to fit perfectly; still, often plans will change

Teaching us to be patient as we reconcile the art

Of relinquishing pictures that change-of-plans pulls apart

How often heart shaped tatters scatter where no one can see

Save we who bear the brunt of Planning’s altered scenery

How often, as we grapple with the pictures we release

We are reminded of the Hand beneath each puzzle piece

© Janet Martin

James 4:13-15

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” 14Why, 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. 15Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”

In Winter's Storm (there is no place like home)

 Nothing like a winter storm to rekindle thankfulness for home!

Here winks the lure of friendly fireside

Cheering the labor’r toward eventide

Here, with loved ones to gather and to sup

Fruit of love’s labor filling plate and cup

Here the tea kettle, while centuries wing

Pours fresh-steeped comfort for pauper and king

Here, like a haven while wild wind-beasts brawl

Home in winter’s storm, is sweetest of all

Here wish-lists dwindle, snuggly satisfied

With hugs and slippers, while the countryside

Is tossed, lost in white brumal gusting swell

As Old Man Winter pummels hill and dell

…and we, borne on parchment catamaran

Sail into ancient worlds and back again

Where no matter how fair the climes we roam

Nothing compares to winter’s home-sweet-home

Here happiness is like a warm handshake

A steaming ‘cup o’ and a bite o’ cake

Here hobbies are like mini getaways

Here mother sometimes pauses work and plays

Here we have nowhere else we’d rather be

Than watching birds flit from feeder to tree

And wrangling thankfulness into a poem

As we thank God for winter’s home, sweet home

Here beckons the gold halo of lamplight

Here little tots are tucked in extra tight

And all is quiet save the howling gale

That overflows contentment’s hallowed grail

That crackles and pops as flame-dancers leap

And book soft-plops as reader falls asleep

Lulled by the lays that rake the leafless loam

While kindling thankful praise for home, sweet home

© Janet Martin

School/Leap of Faith- A Sonnet

As we were leaving on Sat. for our annual weekend in TO I realized

the pink eye I was trying to ignore was suddenly getting much worse.

We stopped to pick up a prescription because all the over-the-counter meds were sold out!

(bit of a pink eye epidemic on in our area)

To top it off, a mild sore throat escalated into wild discomfort.

By Sat. night the long anticipated dinner, (and remainder of the weekend)

was more endured than enjoyed!

While I know this is small on the grand scale of troubles

it was/is still super disappointing!

But on we go...

with so much still to be thankful for!

1 Thess.5:18

give thanks in all circumstances;

 for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

I didn't get any photos this weekend except a few at 

Krispy Kreme donuts on the way home...

There's a good parable in watching the process of a donut being made.

A glob of sticky dough, mixed, pressed and fried before the

final, delectable sweet-treat finish!

So, speaking in donut terms, sometimes

 when we're in the gob-of-sticky-dough stage

 or the pressing and frying stage

it might be easy to forget

 there's a 'sweet-treat' finish!

To roam among grave stones of seasons spent

Is but to squander what soon wastes away

To wander in deserts of discontent

Is but to miss the treasure of Today

To mourn for what we cannot change is vain

Distracting us from present precious sands

To dread the unknown is a futile pain

Better to pray and leave it in God’s hands

His grace, always sufficient for life’s lot

His mercy new each morning, praise His name

His love transcends the scope of mortal thought

His promises are free for all to claim

His goodness greater than affliction’s lathe 

His peace, perfected in each leap of faith

© Janet Martin

Jim needed to leave for work when we got home!

I snuggled on the couch and listened to an extremely uplifting message 

from David Jeremiah about faith.

I couldn't find the exact one on YouTube, 

but below is a link to another gem of a message filled with invaluable reminders.

It starts in with this...

From David Jeremiah-The School of Faith

"One of the sobering thoughts about the Christian life is the truth that God is far more interested in who we become and what we are than in what we do. He cares a whole lot more about how we live than about what we accomplish. His purpose is to build Christians, not cathedrals. His focus is on people, not programs, and for this reason, when God is working in the life of a person, he often allows unexplainable events to prepare and perfect those that he is getting ready to serve him in a much bigger way in the kingdom. The New Testament says this: "Whom the Lord loves He chastens, and scourges every son whom He receives". Often when difficult things happen in our lives, it's not the evidence of something that is wrong, but proof that something is right."

***

Life aka, 

The School of faith

is filled with highs and lows,

 joys and woes,

 in all shapes and sizes

thorns and rose-

coloured surprises

Everything comes, 

then it goes.

What yet waits

Only God knows...

But,

Whether we are enjoying the flower

or being pricked by its stem

God is faithful.

Forever

Amen 

Donuts remind me of a song from days gone by when

our children were little...

Life Without Jesus is Like a Donut

What Comfort in the Knowing

"They're really nice tomatoes, I admitted as I gaped at my garden in bafflement!

But I have never had tomatoes this early. It's spring and I just planted them!

I am just not prepared to can/preserve tomatoes yet!"

This was my dream this morning just before I woke up completely

😂😂😂

Suddenly I have refreshed appreciation and gratitude for 

the law and order of times and seasons!

No matter how eagerly we await spring,

imagine of we woke up this morning and our lawns needed mowing

(that was also part of my dream; as I looked around

I realized our lawn looked like a field!!

and I wondered how I missed it?!) 

What if we woke up, a child once more?!

Gen.8:22

“As long as the earth endures, 

seedtime and harvest, 

cold and heat, 

summer and winter, 

day and night will never cease.”

...none can withhold morning from the awning of daybreak

(it's been so long since we've had a sunrise that the place I was watching for the sun

to break over the horizon had shifted WAY over from the last time I saw it!)

I gasped as I gazed at the cross formation! Spectacular!

Here's to a Friday full of thankfulness

I’m thankful for the sequence of season-circuits and such

For nature’s law and order not swayed by impulsive touch

What comfort in the knowing that spring waits in winter’s wake

And none can withhold morning from the awning of daybreak

Or trick the bud that cradles flowers waiting to unfold

With rutabaga rather than petals of red or gold

And that the measure of a life moves forward tick by tock

And doesn’t trick us with high noon instead of five o clock

…that babies are born innocent, no matter where or who

And God’s goodness and mercy are not but for favored few

The earth and its fulness thereof and all who dwell therein

Belong to He whose name is love and saves us from our sin

I’m thankful, that midst so much unpredictability

So much, since the beginning is like it always will be

Regardless of the atheist’s emboldened disregard

No one can gloat or boast because of nights, quadrillion-starred

I’m thankful that we are not being constantly perplexed

By midweek weekends or never knowing which day is next

And everyone grows old and gray at threescore years or four

Rather than some who are returned to childhood’s grind/grant once more

I’m thankful that no matter what may change much stays the same

That we don’t wake to face a wild and cruel guessing game

But take comfort in knowing He who ordained nature’s ways

Of times and seasons keeps His Word until the end of days

What comfort in the knowing that for all who have believed

Heaven is worth the waiting for, beyond all we have grieved

That time and all its trouble is but like a bubble's scope

When compared to eternity with He who anchors hope

...and comforts those who mourn with promises to which we cling

Certain of their fulfillment as we are, waiting for spring

While giving thanks to He from whom all changeless order flows

In unerring precision and the comfort it bestows 

© Janet Martin

Or trick the bud that cradles flowers waiting to unfold

With rutabaga rather than petals of red or gold

Of Abounding (Confounding) Luxuries

I used to equate the word luxury with the things money can buy!

As I grow older, more and more I realize that the true 'luxuries' of life/love

are so often overlooked, having nothing to do with plump pillows, fine wine,

tropical climes, etc.!!!

There's nothing like the trouble and sorrows of this world to open our eyes

to take notice of beauties/luxuries we might otherwise never give thanks for!

The luxury of laughter spills like sparkling silver stars

While innocence of tots teaches their teachers how to trust

The morning rolls unsullied over still hushed, blue-brushed bars

Laden with fresh reminders of life’s numbered days of dust

Ah, precious little nose to wipe and chubby cheek to kiss

Ah, joy, full of surprises to cheer us midst constant cares

Ah, means to make amends when hasty judgement flies amiss

Ah, God’s Word-wellspring never drained of faith’s bedrock for prayers

…as courage counts hope’s blessings where sorrow and sickness groans

Where so much more than we deserve comforts our creature cry

With promises made possible because God’s grace atones

And suddenly we do not need to know the reasons why

…as we advance across the threshold of what waits to be

Tuned to time’s tender treasure in moment-measure unfurled

Extravagantly lavished with the priceless luxury

Of words like ‘we’ and ‘us;’ surely the dearest in the world

God, let us not be guilty of sight-blind indifference

While beauty’s coffers overflow with fleeting season-lease

Forbid that we should live, embittered by the dissonance

With ears, deaf to the music of Life’s Sacred Masterpiece

God, tilt our visage upward beyond what thought understands

Where learning to be humbly grateful draws us to our knees

And makes us meekly more aware of what still fills our hands

Brimming, if we take notice, with abounding (confounding) luxuries

© Janet Martin

Watching Janet feed the birdies...

Psalm 40:5
Many, O LORD my God, are the wonders You have done,

 and the plans You have for us--

none can compare to You--

if I proclaim and declare them, 

they are more than I can count.

Lament's Metamorphosis

Sometimes I am prone to lament the effect

without acknowledging the cause...

Sometimes I want, for instance, the wisdom from above

without first seeking, yielding, trusting, praying, obeying

Sometimes I seek a harvest from seeds I neglected to plant!

The landscape seems snagged on a see-saw 

of greenish-bronze and white these days!!

As white surf recedes, exposing sodden turf

thoughts turn more and more often to planting time!

I am old enough to recognize harvest of some seeds I wish I had not sown, 

(Or, wish I could return to sow seeds I didn't)

but if we confess our sins He (God) is faithful and just

 to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness

 (1 John 1:9)

He may not remove the consequence 

but He gives grace for us to face

whatever harvest brings.

Also, we are never too old to keep planting!

Lament without repentance is a futile suffering

When sorrow for the consequence ignores what wrought its sting

While impulse disregarded what it should have pondered first

Because of laws imparted that can never be reversed

We will reap what we sow; this is no casual cliché

The seeds of word and deed will grow; therefore, we ought to pray

And tend with tender care what slips into time’s sprawling field

From raring lips and fingertips soon turned to sacred yield

How subtle seasons shift; how swift the seed is fully grown

There is no way around it; we must reap what we have sown

But we are not alone; as we confess sin’s errant ways

Repentance turns groaning lament into a hymn of praise

© Janet Martin

Gal,6:7-9

Be not deceived; God is not mocked: 

for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.

8 For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; 

but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.

9 And let us not be weary in well doing: 

for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

James 3:17-18

But the wisdom from above is first of all pure, 

then peace-loving, gentle, accommodating, 

full of mercy and good fruit, impartial, and sincere.

  18Peacemakers who sow in peace reap the fruit of righteousness.d

Rush of Reverence (or, Blessing of Family)

Today in Canada we celebrate Family Day!

Thank you, gracious Heavenly Father for the most beloved blessing of family!

This poem began with a soft smiled desire

 to collect a medley of mementos framed in memories;

the kind most families can relate to...

It ended with me wiping away tears 

as our church family received a request to pray for a family

 who lost their son yesterday after a brief illness. 

He was in grade five and a best friend to a few boys in our church family.

There will be cake...

I realized I made exactly the same cake recipe (top left corner of photo collage)

 last year for family day weekend only last year's didn't flop😅

 (see recipe and flop details here)

There will be little fellas by their older sisters, bossed

There will be Cinderellas with glass slippers not yet lost

There will be household chores and uproars outside bathroom doors

And scoldings as trespassers tiptoe over fresh mopped floors

There will be oceans of spilled milk on which years sail to sea

While we are busy being the blessing of family

There will be tender moments (and those, not so tender too)

As love lays down firm ground rules on what and what not to do

There will be happy laughter and oh, there will be heartbreak

There will be health and sickness as we shoulder give-and-take 

There will be prayers, so many prayers, and cake and cups of tea

As we thank God for the kind blessing of a family

There will be editing as mom tries to tame grocery lists

And day trips to doctors, dentists, teachers and pharmacists

And sweet goodnights and wake-me-ups at half-past way too soon

And playdates in the backyard and laundry lines to the moon

As smiles and tears compose a dear echo-framed gallery

Of motley medleys showcasing blessing of family

There will be second miles as we all learn to do our part

To make the most of perfectly imperfect works of art

There will be popsicle mustaches, puddle-splashes, and

A bedtime-story-goodnight-kiss-prayer-paved path to dreamland

There will be storms to weather as we weather what must be

Not alone but together with blessing of family

There will be sacrifice, the price of love requires this

There will be hands to hold and hands we held and dearly miss

There will be lovely glimpses of Heaven on earth and oh,

There will be grief, as we suffer Love’s hardest letting go

Which reminds us to cherish every opportunity

To never take for granted, the blessing of family

Lord, willing there will be babies, grandmas and grandpas too

And in between, a spectrum of love's green-gold-blush-and-blue 

There will be crushing disappointments, patience-bested rants

And through it all, pray, an increasing awe for He who grants

And cares for us the same through both triumph and tragedy

While teaching us to treasure the blessing of family

There will be noise and weariness and broken toys and dreams

As girls and boys shed childhood joys far too quickly, it seems

When looking back at careworn seasons hushed by yesteryear

Leaving behind a rush of reverence for now and here

Because no one can tell how near or far lies death’s dark sea

That alters (until Heaven) the blessing of family

© Janet Martin

“Honor your father and your mother, 

that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.”

 – Exodus 20:12

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.

 Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth.

 Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! 

He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.”

 – Psalm 127:3-5

“Bear with one another and, 

if one has a complaint against another, forgive each other;

 as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”

 – Colossians 3:13

below, one of my forever favs by someone who hugely impacted my love of poetry

Edgar A. Guest

Home

BY EDGAR ALBERT GUEST

It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home,

A heap o’ sun an’ shadder, an’ ye sometimes have t’ roam

Afore ye really ’preciate the things ye lef’ behind,

An’ hunger fer ’em somehow, with ’em allus on yer mind.

It don’t make any differunce how rich ye get t’ be,

How much yer chairs an’ tables cost, how great yer luxury;

It ain’t home t’ ye, though it be the palace of a king,

Until somehow yer soul is sort o’ wrapped round everything.

Home ain’t a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;

Afore it’s home there’s got t’ be a heap o’ livin’ in it;

Within the walls there’s got t’ be some babies born, and then

Right there ye’ve got t’ bring ‘em up t’ women good, an’ men;

And gradjerly, as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn’t part

With anything they ever used—they’ve grown into yer heart:

The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore

Ye hoard; an’ if ye could ye’d keep the thumbmarks on the door.

Ye’ve got t’ weep t’ make it home, ye’ve got t’ sit an’ sigh

An’ watch beside a loved one’s bed, an’ know that Death is nigh;

An’ in the stillness o’ the night t’ see Death’s angel come,

An’ close the eyes o’ her that smiled, an’ leave her sweet voice dumb.

Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an’ when yer tears are dried,

Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an’ sanctified;

An’ tuggin’ at ye always are the pleasant memories

O’ her that was an’ is no more—ye can’t escape from these.

Ye’ve got t’ sing an’ dance fer years, ye’ve got t’ romp an’ play,

An’ learn t’ love the things ye have by usin’ ’em each day;

Even the roses ’round the porch must blossom year by year

Afore they ’come a part o’ ye, suggestin’ someone dear

Who used t’ love ’em long ago, an’ trained ’em jes’ t’ run

The way they do, so’s they would get the early mornin’ sun;

Ye’ve got t’ love each brick an’ stone from cellar up t’ dome:

It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home.

For So Much Still To Do

On an icicle-brickle bedazzled morn

the heart is sweet and tenderly torn

between footloose fancies that sparkle and woo

And common cares 

of chores to do

I admired from the window then tackled work-to-do...

The muffins turned out well,

( I had one bite from the missing one to sample 

because I didn't use any particular recipe.

When I came back from cleaning the bathrooms to finish my 'sampling' 

 this is all that remained)

No, I don't have a pet, but I have a husband😂😅

but the cake flopped... 

(It boiled over in the oven and lost its oomph!!)

while rooms got dusted and floors got mopped

Now its off to market,

to market

to buy a fat jug

of laundry soap, (etc.)

then home again,

home again

luggedy-lug

...to do dishes and kitchen clean up

and decide what's for sup!!

(I'm craving roasted vegetables!)

***

Today's poem was inspired in part

 by yesterday and today's devotion in the book

My Utmost for His Highest

By Oswald Chambers

Arise and let us go, for there is much to do

Redemption, greater than our woe will see each mercy through

Though many times we slip when we fail His command

The armour of God will equip us for the day at hand

Make haste without delay to pray and then proceed

Committed to trust and obey as God supplies our need

For the harvest is great but its workers are few

Arise, before it is too late for so much still to do   

© Janet Martin

Arise, My Soul Arise

Like Glimpses Through a Gate

Psalm 16:11

You will show me the path of life; 

In Your presence is fullness of joy; 

At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

The thrill of February spring was short-lived,

...as was the clean up from previous ice-storms, 

 We woke to a world ensconced in nature's glitz!

How oft the Creator consoles

Earth's happiness, so full of holes...

February is always a struggle for me, poetically-speaking, 

and this February is no exception, so emotionally demanding/draining

 with so much local trouble and sorrow,

not to mention globally!

But hallelujah,

 God Was, Is, and Ever Will Be in perfect control!

We walk by faith, not by sight!

2 Cor.5:7

How oft the Creator consoles

Earth's happiness, so full of holes

Where grief exacts love’s bitter thorn

As dreams are dashed and hearts are torn

…and then the morn heaps hope’s buffet

As mercy’s masterpieces splay

Like glimpses, through a gate ajar

Where everlasting pleasures are

How often our faith could be

Disillusioned by tragedy

This, but part and parcel of Time

Tethered to weathered season-chime

Where rhyme and reason could dismiss

God’s goodness with betrayal’s kiss

Until, like glimpses through a gate

He reminds us of joys that wait

How often we could lose our way

If we relied on logic’s say

Where wise and fool alike concede

Man’s days are few and full of need

But, the best this world can demand

Pales, compared to God’s Promised Land

Glimpsed through a gleaming gate, agape

With impressions of its landscape

How oft the poet’s flound’ring prayer

Could yield to pirates of despair

Where unholy taunt plunders thought

And steals joy with blessings forgot

Until God opens downcast eyes

To impact us with sweet surprise

Unveiled, like glimpses through a gate

Where worship’s endless pleasures wait

How oft life's weight of care could wage

A war that nothing could assuage

Without more than this world can host

Of temporary toast and boast

Hoisted between eternities

A flail of mortal agonies

While glimpses through yon Gate remind

The man of the soul's transient rind 

How oft the Creator consoles

Earth’s happiness, so full of holes

With glimpses of Heavenly Hills

From whence our Help and Comfort spills

To cheer us onward in the flight

Of walking by faith, not by sight

Until Yon Gate eclipses grace

And glimpses become face-to-face

© Janet Martin

Psalm 121:1-3

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—

From whence comes my help?

2My help comes from the Lord,

Who made heaven and earth.

3He will not allow your foot to [a]be moved;

He who keeps you will not slumber.

Lord, I Need You

I Need Thee Every Hour

Law of Love

Romans 13:8-10

Owe no one anything except to love one another, 

for he who loves another has fulfilled the law. 

9 For the commandments,

 “You shall not commit adultery,” 

“You shall not murder,”

 “You shall not steal,” [a]

“You shall not bear false witness,”

 “You shall not covet,” 

and if there is any other commandment, 

are all summe

d up in this saying, namely,

 “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 

10 Love does no harm to a neighbor;

 therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.

Romans 2:13
For it is not the hearers of the law who are righteous before God,

 but it is the doers of the law who will be declared righteous.

By the grace of God alone we are able to

keep love's law!

Love, sometimes sweet as chocolate-hearts...

But more often, a blood and tear stained cross...

When I Survey the Wondrous Cross...

The law of love

Amends the wrong

Befriends the poor

And suffers long

It bears all things

Defends the truth

Rebukes the sin

With kind reproof

It cautions thought

Soon turned to deed

And weighs quick want

With humble need

It tests the root

‘ere seeds are sown

For by the fruit

The tree is known

It does not boast

It is not proud

A gentle host

Not vain or loud

It does not start

Feuds and debates

But, with meek heart

It prays and waits

...and does not seek

What crowds applaud

But helps the weak

And honors God

Whose law is love

Whose love will be

The living proof

Of 'Christ in me'  

© Janet Martin

Gal.2:20

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live,

 but Christ lives in me. 

The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, 

who loved me and gave himself for me.