Dear Mariner of Time...

Happy, happy New Year!

As I was working on today's poem I replied to a Facebook comment

on the previous post...I am Thinking of you, my dear Lucy

And shared with my friend a half-awake-half-asleep dream.

The ambience of that 'dream' helped inspire today's poem!

By this 'dream' I was reminded afresh; 

God has inconceivable joys forevermore in store

for all who believe in Him, when we reach Yonder Shore!

In my 'dream' I suddenly had a 'picture/vision' of God smiling and whispering 

'if you could only imagine the joys I have in store for followers of Me!!'

 and I had this sense of blinding white-gold glory 

and absolute comfort and peace. 

Hard to describe. 

But it has cheered me immensely.

The Race of Faith

Heb.12:1-2

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, 

let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, 

and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,

 2looking unto Jesus, the [a]author and [b]finisher of our faith, 

who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, 

despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

So now into another year we sail...

Dear Mariner of Time, dread not the gale

For hope, through Jesus Christ, anchors the soul

And faith in Him assures us of the Goal

Without a doubt storms wait with shrieking blast

Without a doubt death's shadow will be cast

Without a doubt the sun also will shine

To warm and cheer us, Mariners of Time

The Voyage from the cradle to the grave

Is one each Mariner of Time must brave

Where Telescope of Sight and Logic strains

But cannot see what only faith attains 

Into another year we sail, ahoy

And wonder what will come, of grief and joy

Dear Mariner of Time, dread not the course

No fate can take vessels of faith by force 

The Captain of faith's fleet will never fail

And though He tests the rigging with the gale

Dear Mariner of Time, each Tempest Sore

Sweetens and keens faith's fervour for the Shore 

© Janet Martin

The Hatley Family...He Whispers Sweet Peace To Me

I Am Thinking of You, My Dear Lucy

Sister Mine...a treasure gifted to me from my youngest sister

There are no celebrations planned with others tonight

because many of 'us' that had planned to get together 

are under the weather, either with flu-bug or cold bug.

Mine was fever, achy bone but has turned into a cold.

Tonight I am reflecting on many a conversation Lucy and I had

on how we shared a sense of foreboding on New Year's Eve 

about who would not be here 'next year'.

Aren't you glad we don't know what lies in store

and aren't you thankful God is a faithful comforter if we lean on Him?!

(Below, glimpse of a card my oldest sister gave me on Saturday)

***

I am thinking of you, my dear Lucy

Passed beyond fond pleasure of sight

Where oft on the stroke of the New Year

Our eyes and our hearts would unite

In kindred and soulful reflection

As wondering what waits to be

Would meld minds in mutual connection

Of life's vulnerability

I am thinking of you, my dear Lucy

In the land where no  hours chime 

Where no sickness, pain or grief enters

Free from bonds and bearings of Time

How things we once dreaded, yet treasured

That come with accruing of age

Are gone for you, no longer measured

By sight's oh-so-fallible gauge

I am thinking of you, my dear Lucy

How I miss our chatter and fuss

A blending and clashing arrangement

Composing the music of 'us'

And though many comfort and bless me

(For their kind hearts are broken too)

I can't help but fill a bit empty

This New Year's Eve, without you

I am thinking of you, my dear Lucy

And cherish like never before

The dances we shared as life's music

Played a most precious repertoire 

Of highs and lows, flying and falling

While honing quadrilles in my heart

Till it seems I can hear you soft-calling 

'Forever, yet never apart'

© Janet Martin

There Will Be Roses...( Contemplating a New Year Poem)

Farewell, old year!

What a volume to retire

And place on a shelf in the heart

(Though not without tears for the tears it holds)

Hope Immortal cheers us onward

Newness, eager to inspire

Bids us close gently 

The Book of

 Has Been.

And 

ready faith to receive

A volume, fresh and clean.

Tonight, I will reach out my hand 

and take it,  not with trembling dread and fear

But with trust because the Giver (and Taker)

Is the Lord, and He is always near...

Ps.145:18

The LORD is near to all who call on him,

 to all who call on him in truth.

Psalm 34:18
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted;

 He saves the contrite in spirit.

Isaiah 55:6
Seek the LORD while He may be found; 

call on Him while He is near.

A Short Reflection First...

(before loosening the poetic rein and

Tossing restraint to the wind)

Quite Enough

What was, is yester-love

What waits, no one can tell

What is, my dear, is quite enough

With which to live life well

What was wafts beyond reach

What waits to be, who knows?

Today grants quite enough to teach

And keep love on its toes

What was, fills Bygone's trove

What waits, no one can see

Today is quite enough, my love

To make a memory

What was, is like spilled ink

What waits, no wish can bind 

What is, is quite enough, I think 

To keep us humbly kind  

Janet Martin

There will be roses to tickle our noses

To soothe the mean sting of love’s thorn

There will be beauty to cheer common duty

Served on a buffet of new morn

Purply-whispered and silvery-glistered

Dells filled with forget-me-not

Moments that thunder with worship-wild wonder

And moments oft lived and forgot

There will be gladness to counter grief’s sadness

Cheering love’s tear-weary wake

There will be sorrows still veiled by tomorrows

Still cradled in hope’s holy ache

There will be flowers and summer-dusk showers

Fine pleasures, like spring’s chuckling brooks

Maple-sweet toffee and cups of fresh coffee

Bird-song, a new ‘favorite book’

There will be kindness and self-centered blindness

Strolls through green, rolling countryside

Precious occasion for sweet celebration

Proud groom and young bride, starry-eyed

Humble submission to dream’s un-fruition

Hairpin sharp, hard-left learning curves

Begging for pardon and tea in the garden

*And Housewife-meets-mouse frazzled nerves

There will be mending of fences and tending

To tasks only noted when missed

Plan-rearranging, and hearts that need changing

Sweet babies-dear, cuddled and kissed

Back-breaking labour and helping our neighbor

Then soaking spent bones in warm suds

Prayer-bent desires and crackling campfires

Marshmallow-s’mores, famine and floods

Lunches with sisters, and blind-dates as Misters

And Misses-es search for soulmates

There will be singing and earth’s belfries ringing

With music only God creates

There will be bruises and ‘emptied oil cruses’

Trust-lessons in the face of need

There will be trouble aboard time’s brief bubble

To test and grow faith’s mustard seed

There will be struggle and pink honeysuckle

Peaches, pears, apples and plums

Twilight’s chin dripping with End of Day slipping

To Past’s un-trespass-able sums

Joyful surprises and coral sunrises

Puppies, both naughty and nice

Farmers that whistle till good humours bristle

At some revised, sky-high jacked price

There will be much care pioneering much prayer

‘Our Father who art in heaven’

Then, there will be peace as we learn to release

The onus of the petition

There will be dead ends, far and near old, new friends

And endless opportunity

And holiest holes in the silk of our souls

By much-missed loved one's memory

There will be fumbles, unflattering stumbles (ugh)

Thanksgiving-humbled supplicants

For no one is able to set repast's table

Without what God’s goodness first grants

There will be winners and warmed over dinners

Because someone had to work late

There will be faux pas and awed hallelujahs

And hot temper fueled debate

There will be bills, and *hearty laughter that spills

Life’s very best of medicine

Many a reason to treasure each season

No matter what season we’re in

There will be losses, and triumphs and crosses

Of ineffable tragedies

Echoes soft-haunting a future found wanting

There will be cricket-symphonies

While mommies and daddies, grampies and grammies

Need wisdom God's word will give

To guide explaining while sacredly training

A child in the way he should live

Midst messes and muddles and big shiny puddles

Luring little feet to its thrills

There will be stories of hardship and glories

All hinged upon ‘if the Lord wills’

© Janet Martin

** the starred lines unfolded during the

composing of this poem...

The first one needs no explanation; 'mouse' says it all!

The second was inspired by my mother who called while I was gathering

 this poem and she said something rather cute that struck my funny bone

and when she realized I was wheezing with laughter she started laughing too

and we both laughed till we cried,

And we agreed; Laughter is truly the best medicine.

James 4:15

Instead, you ought to say,

 “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live 

and do this or that.”

Take My Hand and Lead Me

(lyrics below)

I Will Not Forsake Thee

Step by step, take my hand and lead me, My Guide, my Light. (German) So nimm denn meine Hände und führe mich Bis an mein selig Ende und ewiglich! Ich kann allein nicht gehen, nicht einen Schritt; Wo Du wirst gehn und stehen, da nimm mich mit. O take my hand and lead me, my Guide, my Light, My path is rough and narrow in life's dark night. Your hand will safely hold me through night and day, You are my true companion, O with me stay. You cover me with mercy and cleanse my heart, Your goodness fills my being in every part. And with Your hand to guide me I'm not alone. Your presence lights my pathway until I'm at Home. As step by step we travel to reach the goal, Our songs of faith will echo and feed my soul. So take my hand and lead me until I see The heav'n where You receive me eternally.

For Our 'Happy-in-Waiting' (in Happy New Year)

I started this poem a week ago,

snaring lines as they bobbed by...

This week I finally had a chance to collect more fragments

from my trek through impending happiness-es!

I splashed through brooks, 

went on a picnic,

 laughed at a silly, fat robin,

and SO much more!

Happy Whatever Happy-in-waiting is waiting for you!

Winter’s canvas to be tickled with giggling snow-angel throngs

Below, one of my all-time favorite shots from days long gone

Victoria and her cousin...

Hush! plush-pink peony pom-poms wait to pop nature’s green cork...

Chill winds to be charmed and taken by soft zephyrs, blossom-sweet

Gardens to be warmed and ‘wakened by the banter of bare feet

Barren branches to be garnished with whispers of God-spun lace

Snowy hillsides to grow tarnished as sunbeams give winter chase

Dust to stir as fields are planted with both seed and farmer’s prayer

Hearts and souls to be enchanted by glory, heavens declare

Buds to burst with petal-plunder, miracles in every pod

Happiness immersed in wonder by the handiwork of God

Sassy robin tugging dinner from a grassy smorgasbord

Scrumptious supper-soups to simmer, coffees to be brewed and poured

Into fav’rite mugs, hand hugged and ever so blissfully sipped

While the bashful morn is tugged across skylines, pink and gold dipped

Summer’s harvest to be pickled, autumn to dwindle leaf-songs

Winter’s canvas to be tickled with giggling snow-angel throngs

Cheese and whole-grain cracker-stackers to pack in a picnic lunch

Bunch ‘o please-and-thank-you-happy snackers munching carrot-crunch

Steps to slow to walk with children, innocence to steal our breath

While we point the way to Heaven from earth’s thoroughfares of Death

Cozy snuggle-with-me twilight while outside the world grows dark

Foibles turning into hindsight as discernment meets its mark

Solemn Last Post and Reveille Remembrances-lest we forget

Fires to be stoked and fences to tend to, not mended yet

Hush! plush-pink peony pom-poms wait to pop nature’s green cork

Rush of seasons waits to romp and vex wild wanderlust with work

Payments to be made and worry to teach us to use our knees

Patience to test ‘we’re late’ hurry, as we search for phones, shoes, keys

Kindness to be shown, ink-hunger to be fed with books, books, books

Inner child to rediscover as we wade through fields and brooks

Cakes to bake and decorate for birthdays yet to celebrate

Beach to stroll and hand to hold; don’t wait until it is too late

Silver poplar’s shiny shivers, tap dancers made out of rain

Waltzing on impromptu rivers gushing down the street and lane

Naughty puppy to be scolded, antics by Mr. Mischief

Laundry to be washed and folded, to-do-lists-achieved-relief

Days to drain of exultation to God for blessing-heaped trays

Thought to tune with adoration, heart to overflow with praise

© Janet Martin

Scrumptious supper-soups to simmer,

(instead of scrumptious supper-soup, last night was scrumptious, supper-stirfry!)

Chicken and veg stir-fried and served on a bed of stir-fried/steamed cabbage and black beans

Like a Constant Gift

Last night it began to snow!

It felt like a gift from God, as if He was saying,

'See? I am covering the dirty, old year with

a fresh, new unsoiled slate!

Heb.13:8

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

Happy 2024!

As the old year ends and the new begins 

may our sole/soul resolve be 

a more complete surrender to 

God's full authority

Sometimes we are guilty of wanting God's way, our way. 

We want Him to yield to our will, not we to His!

All The Way My Saviour Leads Me

The past is irreversible, its seasons set in stone

The future is invincible when faced through Christ alone

The present, like a constant gift of opportunity

Furnishes where all life is lived; in Now’s benignity

Anxiety for what might be is certain to destroy

Faith’s confident humility that leads to peace and joy

What has been none can modify, but what is and will be

Is like a constant gift, thereby/whereby God proves His fealty

Goodness and mercy’s rich supply sustains surrendered hearts

No greater gain can satisfy than that which grace imparts

Thus, as God lays the old to rest, as New is ushered in

Once more hope hoists its humble quest to give/live our best for Him

Sometimes the state our Saviour saved us from, slips our minds

How arrogant, we then become, when mortal motive blinds

Us to the Light that spans the rift and keeps faith undeterred

Each promise like a constant gift to all who trust His word

© Janet Martin

Malachi 4:2

But to you who fear My name
The Sun of Righteousness shall arise
With healing in His wings;

Age Old Assurance for the Newness of Now

 O God, our Help in Ages Past

Nothing is Impossible With God

Whether at the beginning of a year

the middle or the end

the bedrock of 

faith's hope, joy and peace 

remains the same; trust God

A New Year.

A New Day.

The same God

Come what may

Though the way

No one can see

Faith in God

Seals victory

God's Word like

A steadfast Hand

Leads into

The Promised Land

His Word does

Not lead astray

As we hope

And trust and pray

In the power

Of God’s might

Faith will be

Equipped to fight

Pray we never

Run this race

Without God’s

Armor in place

Then and only

Then will we

Be fitted

For what will be

Then faith will

Be undeterred

Through the power

Of God’s word

Where without God

We are weak

And we know not

What we seek

… or what master

To obey

In the newness

of Today

A new day

and a New Year

The same God

To commandeer

...the same goodness

truth and love

Fills the Unknown

with Enough

© Janet Martin

Heb.11:8

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place 

he would later receive as his inheritance,

 obeyed and went,

 even though he did not know where he was going.

A New Year Revolution

Happy New Year!

Below is an image of a card that my grandparents received in/around 1937.

This book from 1949 is a vault of timeless wisdom-treasure!

Here is today's meditation/blessing/wish,

as relevant today as it was then.

(Don't you love how, as time passes still

life's best and true things are timeless?!)

Come, where a new year hoists a trove

Of hopes that we maintain

Where the best we can do for love

Is love and love again

Rather than lob slight’s stinging stone

Where we all slip and err

Come, let us help each other on

This God-ward thoroughfare

For all that fuels fret-and-fuss

This precious truth abides

Goodness and mercy follow us

All the days of our lives

Then come, where the old is made new

Where endings turn to starts

Where pray, once more we resolve to

Gladden fellowmen’s hearts

© Janet Martin

Psalm 23:6

Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, 

and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

What is the Use?

I got a mega-reality-jolt as I lined up the calendars of years flying by!

Reminding me of this verse!

James 4:14

What is your life? 

You are a mist that appears for a little while 

and then vanishes.

What is the use of passing years

If at their end we find

When its last moment disappears

We are still no more kind

What is the use of each year’s cast

Fastened to ‘how time flies’

If when its final day has passed

We still are no more wise

What use is time’s swift no return

Gifted in day-to-day

If  love's lessons we ought to learn

Have not taught us to pray

What is the use of good intent

Of resolution's dare

If we are, at the old year’s end

No better than we were

What is the use, when looking back

With sentimental heart

We blush to see that we still lack

What we did at the start?  

What is the use of  all we chase 

Like a red, rubber ball

If God's goodness, mercy and grace

Have not changed us at all

© Janet Martin

Psalm 90:12

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Eph.5:15-21

See then that you walk [e]circumspectly, not as fools but as wise,

  16redeeming the time, because the days are evil.

17Therefore do not be unwise, but understand what the will of the Lord is. 

18And do not be drunk with wine, in which is dissipation; 

but be filled with the Spirit, 

19speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs,

 singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord,

20giving thanks always for all things 

to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,

21submitting to one another in the fear of [f]God.

Frameworks of Farewell

 

The framework of farewell is filled with moments spilled and spent

Into a little locket frilled with laughter and lament

Where what we argue or reject, or believe and embrace

Becomes part of the retrospect that farewell’s frames showcase

Sometimes it seems I almost see Father Time tease my sigh

With a fedora jauntily pulled down over one eye

He tips his hat and with the other hand touches my cheek

‘There, there, you know I understand the words you cannot speak’

Sometimes I think I sense him wink as one more year becomes

The latest, stationary link of soldered cookie crumbs

And sums soft-shook from flowers that we plant, then pluck and press

Between books filled with hours of love’s hopeful happiness

Where bittersweet, an echo-fleet embarks upon a sea

That surges with the thrum of bare feet lost on Bygone’s lea

Where frames of farewell gaped while hellos rang in the New Year

From thresholds barely shaped before their doorways disappear

...into the mist of faces kissed and arms that ache because

We cannot gather back the vista of The Way/Day That Was

Where the New Year that tolled a bell dangling from midnight’s skies

 Is stilled in frameworks of farewell with now Old Year’s demise

Darling, (dear, Father Time, forgive my bold intimacy)

But you perplex the poet's rhyme without apology 

And vex brave fantasy with fact; darling, then hold me near

And I will hold your hat while you kiss away yesteryear  

© Janet Martin

Winsome Woo

The magnitude of the snow-majesty we are enjoying is impossible

to capture with a camera-lens!

It rouses within a winsome woo words cannot capture quite...

Now woos a winsome sense of blues. Of golds and grays and greens

Impressionistic avenues woven through wafting scenes

Of unfurled hues of joy and strife’s herculean highs and lows

Where morn to eventide rolls rife with all that life bestows

And season-song cuts like a knife where so-long ebbs and flows

The catalyst to letting go can shield us from the sum

Of touch and taste and holding’s holy showdowns yet to come

Where youth soon dons truth’s tinges; it is futile to rebel

Where summer’s flashy fringes deck the halls of autumn’s knell

Where hello always hinges to the framework of farewell

Because beginnings always end and ‘end’ always begins

Now woos a winsome sense of friendship through what always thins

To Old Year almost over where the New Year waits to spill

Both knee-deep dell of clover and steep, courage-honing hill

New worlds yet to discover and blank pages yet to fill

Now woos within the stark, dark imminence of vast unknowns

A sense of golds and blues that mark the ‘Thence’ of Steppingstones

That ultimately lead toward That Single Certainty

Of face-to-face with Christ the Lord and of eternity

Thus, therefore, no one can afford to ignore what will be

Where we are lavished with what slips through fingertips with ease

To leave behind the winsome fellowship of memories

Where heartstrings bind the ties of love, of hope and hunger too

Around impressions of a glove filled with the winsome woo

Of what is never quite enough of love’s green-gold-gray-blue

© Janet Martin

The Humble Sum of Shoes (An Old-to-New Year Poem)

Happy New Year!

“Grace and peace be yours in abundance,

 through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.” 

(2 Pet. 1:2)

The old year ran out before I was able to finish

its final post...

Hello and welcome, 2022!

Momentous carousel of gray and gold,

green, blush and blue...

May we weather with hope renewed 

each day as it is lent

and leave behind when it is through 

a year of love well spent...

The above verse is a brief contemplation

Below an ambling stroll through a garden of thoughts

...and a few snapshots of the end of the old 

a visit to the neighbour's farm...

Harbour view after returning middle daughter to her home (away from home)

and beginning of the new...

Tendrils of day-to-day like vines entwine

Where green shoots gild weather-beaten remains

And hope rekindles bittersweet refrains

On thoroughfares of four-season design

Where what was new a year ago is old

And what is new runs rife with life’s unknowns

And what is old is framed in grins and groans

That only eyes of retrospect behold

Yet, as we peer ahead no one can see

What waits to climb time’s gates to history

For all that changes some things never do

Nothing estranges takers from the Hands

That give to each its score of numbered sands

Nothing can thwart the truth, forever true

Nothing can bar faith’s humble prayer from He

Who knows what waits to be, oh, blissful thought

No matter what is lent to mortal lot

Nothing usurps Divine Authority

Do not despair, but bless God; do not curse

His goodness, steadfast through better or worse

The vines that climb the arbor of a year

Soon disappear, or so we dare to think

But though moments are over in a wink

So much abides beneath Bequeathed Veneer

Where words and deeds like seeds scattered behind

May seem to sleep, like gardens heaped with snow

But in the course of time the fruit will show

This is the way all nature is designed

He is not mocked who ordains time and place

And stocks each season with mercy and grace

The new to the old grafts with seamless ease

Thresholds meld to cold gravestones of the past

Daybreak fuels dusk’s purple shadow-cast

The rise and fall of footstep-symphonies

Like waves; a mighty force that disappears

How sacred then, commonplace steps become

When from shorelines we view the humble sum

Of shoes outgrown or outliving man’s years

How humbly then we stoop to tie the strings

Of faith in God for what the new year brings

The highs and lows of joys and woes compose

The dust and ash that tears and laughter spill 

Where morning hoists Mercy's faithful refill

From He who crowns the thorn-stem with a rose

As north, south, east or west our steps deplete

The Path hinged to endless eternity

And no one knows how near or far will be

The sacred transport from time's trampled beat 

As we are borne beyond the humble sum 

Of shoes and such, into the world to come

© Janet Martin

From me to precious you,

Wishes for a

A blessed and joyful New Year!