Dear Moms...

Dear moms,

I hope we all have someone we can pour out to when we need it!

Moral mom-support is HUGE no matter how old our 'kiddos' are...(so I am learning!)

A few years ago for Mother's Day all the women in our congregation

 received a little pebble with a heart painted on it. 

It was to be a visual reminder that God loves us. 

Somehow recently that pebble disappeared from the window-ledge by my kitchen-sink...

maybe someone didn't know it was a teeny pebble with a BIG purpose!

Last week one of the youngsters I babysat made this for me

which will now take its place 'cause its vital for moms to remember

 God loves us and we can 'cry/lean/pray' on His shoulder any time! 

We all have days where we feel like the world’s worst mother; don’t give up

This is the flipside of sweet times that fill and overflow joy’s cup

We all have moments when we cry ‘I don’t know how to do this, God’

He helps us not to spoil the child by withholding the ‘training rod’

We all have nights when we feel like our being is frayed through and through

For it comes down to this my dear; while they learn we are learning too

And sometimes it is hard to tell who is the teacher, who the child

In the mish-mash of chores and a crash course in parenting run wild

We all have times when we would quit if that was somehow possible

But mom is mom forever to each darling little miracle

Where the only one-size-fits all advice that any mom might say

Is’ take it one prayer at a time’; a child is not raised in a day

© Janet Martin

Prayer-Stair

 Here's to that sacred work of Stair-building...

A mother’s prayers could pave a stairway to the moon and through the stars

For cares of love can press so hard where happiness is full of scars

The child that makes Her laugh and weep in that quick leap to woman, man

Can prime a mother’s heart with prayer like nothing else in this world can

Where time is never kind enough to satisfy its thirst for tears

Where modern-day Goliaths still test David-faith with taunting fears

Where she must often reach to touch the hem of grace to heal the void

That began when each newborn left Her deeply awed and overjoyed

Where she will never know the freedom she does not ever desire

Where, as they grow she feels the tug that keeps the Torch of prayer a-fire

And Hope must bind Her heart and mind or else how could she bear the Must

That unravels a maze of ways to teach Her how to Simply Trust

© Janet Martin  

 After sacrificing the bull, they brought the boy to Eli. ²⁶ “Sir, do you remember me?” Hannah asked. “I am the very woman who stood here several years ago praying to the Lord. ²⁷ I asked the Lord to give me this boy, and he has granted my request. ²⁸ Now I am giving him to the Lord, and he will belong to the Lord his whole life.” And they^[h] worshiped the Lord there.

1 Sam.1:25-28

Ah, Motherhood

Happy Belated Mother's Day!

Hectic happiness swooshed yesterday away 

before I had a chance to do a post! 

It's nice to have a day to reflect on family's imperfect 'Happy', isn't it?!

Words of love whether texted, phoned, told face to face or carded are precious treasures

for mothers to tuck away and pull out on a 'rainy' day!

So thankful for my mom!

Ah, Hardest Best that love allots

Of test mingled with joy

Of learning lessons more than once

As She trains girl and boy

Ah, grandest gift that life can give

In spite of constant cares

As motherhood becomes the sieve

Through which she pours her prayers

Where love like none before or hence

(Save God who authors Good)

Will grant such sacred recompense

As humble motherhood/parenthood

Ah, vessel made of flesh and blood

Yet mighty, by God’s grace

Her form must bear the tearing flood

Of birthing human race

There ending and beginning meld

Where earth and heaven meet

As nothing love-borne is withheld

From tiny hands and feet

God, hold her hands as she holds hands

That pull and pull away

Help her where love’s lifelong demands

Teach and teach her to pray

For motherhood is not a game

No fame highlights its goals

Mother is charged with Heaven’s Claim

She cares for living souls

God, bless this Hardest Best of All

Of bitter-sweetest Good

For there is no other such call

Like that of motherhood

© Janet Martin

Mother-to-Mother...

 When hubby asks me what we talked about (on those rare occasions when moms go out)

more often than not I reply 'mostly mom-stuff'

I wondered what took Victoria so long to fuel up the Journey...

until she walked in with "Happy Early Mother's Day!"

Though we may not have met, as yet

We understand each other

Because we share love’s kindred care

When we become a mother

… for motherhood, so dear and good

Will fix within our bearing

A strange alloy of grief and joy

Born out of deepest caring

Where mother’s love will rise above

The circumstance and reason

Her prayers-tears-smiles fill whiles and miles

Without reserve or season

Who can explain love’s purest pain

When we become a mother

Its charge bestows high-fives and blows

Quite unlike any other

This humbling, fumbling, stumbling Best

This heart-string-honing tether

This lifelong faith-trust-hope-strength test

Binds all mothers together

For motherhood, so dear and good

Oft startles and confounds us

So, mother-to-mother, we need each other

To be God’s arms around us

© Janet Martin

Your Mother's Heart...

 

It often looks like nothing much

Packed lunches; broom and mop

The tidy up and ‘extra-touch’

Of home-sweet-home on top

It might just look like ‘shoes to fill’

Or fresh-baked bread or pie

Or laundry washed and heaped until

It seems to reach the sky

Or hug and kiss, goodnight, sleep tight

Or ‘don’t forget to pray’

Or fingers washed or noses wiped

Or teardrops brushed away

…or window-sills with flowerpots

Or glass bowl filled with fruit

Or scolding naughty little tots

Lest seed of sin takes root

Or quirks that sometimes make you laugh

(Or roll your eyes a smidge)

Or keepsakes, like the photographs

That cover up the fridge

What do you see, dear girl and boy

Just dishes washed and dried?

After hot, home-cooked supper-joy

When it is cold outside

Does it just look like life to you?

Or chores performed in vain?

Shake-off-the-mats-and-run-the-vacuum

Through-the-house-again

Well, I would like to tell dear

These common works of art

Are not all that they would appear

They are your mother’s heart

© Janet Martin