The Tender Risk

 This morning I had in my inbox a poem written by my niece

for a history assignment;

a strong piece of writing in Reverse Poem and well done!

It tempted me to attempt this form I had long forgotten.

In much shorter version.

 (also forgot how challenging it is;

the trick to keep one line flowing

into the next...)

So much to celebrate… and grieve

With what we suffer to achieve

And weave love’s longing, bittersweet

As hunger and fullness compete

To penetrate with piercing ploy

The climax of sorrow with joy

To fragmentalize and finesse

The highs and lows of happiness

Where what we have and hold is but

Slow loss that waits to sheer and gut

The heart that dares to trust enough

To take the tender risk to love

Again

© Janet Martin

Again

To take the tender risk to love

The heart that dares to trust enough

Slow loss that waits to sheer and gut

Where what we have and hold is but

The highs and lows of Happiness

To fragmentalize and finesse

The climax of sorrow with joy

To penetrate with piercing ploy

As hunger and fullness compete

And weave love’s longing bittersweet

With what we suffer to achieve

So much to celebrate… and grieve

© Janet Martin

 Even in laughter the heart may ache, 

and rejoicing may end in grief.

Poverbs 14:13

Tick-tock's Undertow

It's quiet save the sound of the clock's tick-tock!

 Sometimes we wish for more 'bloom' as it fades

until we mourn the loss of one who never got the chance to fully fade or even begin to fade!

 Tonight the ache of mourning is raw as we enfold a widow in our congregation

in tears and prayer...

We miss you, Ron

Growing old does not stop

Until God wills it so

The momentum of tick and tock

A profound undertow

Where choice and circumstance

Adeptly intertwines

As we grapple with what God grants

While youth its bloom resigns

To make each moment count

Is more than a cliché

They are the sparkles from a fount

That never hits replay

Therefore we ought to prize

The gift of growing old

And kindly, humbly recognize

Time slipping through our hold

The ache for those we love

Who have gone on before

Keens a scared awareness of

What was and is no more

Where, as the seasons pass

We come to realize

How swift the sand runs through the glass

That drains the fountain dry

Dear Lord, bless those who mourn

For friend or family

Lord, heal the heart broken and torn

By sorrow’s agony

Awake in us hope’s boast

As by your grace we go

And teach us how to make the most

Of tick-tock’s undertow

© Janet Martin

 Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, 

for He who promised is faithful.

Heb.10:23

Life Goes On

A few weeks ago we attended the wedding of my neice.

 She married our lifelong neighbour's son!

At the wedding hubby and I chatted for a little while with the groom's uncle
 (age 63) who moved to Manitoba years ago and raised his family there.

He encouraged me to make/take the time to go with Jim/hubby sometimes
because we just never know what life can bring.
Since that conversation 3+ weeks ago Jim has met him completely unexpectedly (twice!)
as he drove through Manitoba.
Suddenly a truck pulled alongside his truck and a man with a friendly smile
and honk waved as he went by. It was Ken Weber!

Yesterday he passed away suddenly due to a heart attack!

A few days ago a this community was rocked by the death of a young woman
 killed in an awful traffic accident, leaving us asking,
(after coming through a sorrow-stricken October)

 who/what next?!!

 Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death,

 so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.
For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again,

we also believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in Him.…

1 Thess. 4:13-14 

This song was played the other Sunday for our 'hurting bad' church family

as we mourn the sudden loss of a few of its members...

because, life goes on!

Life goes on

The holes where loss

Leaves gaping wounds

Ah, who can fill?

Where Death

(That Ruthless Random Beast)

With precise aim

Is never still

Life goes on:

Worlds rocked anew

With Grief’s insistent

Unforeseen

Where all we knew

Cannot return

To be the way

That it had been

Death’s sickle swings

Ah, who is next

To fall beneath its

Binding blade

Where love, ah love

Will suffer long

The aftermath

Of parting’s trade

Where life goes on

In spite of Death

(Though much is taken

Much remains)

To stir our hearts

And steal our Breath

As Hope in God

Alone sustains

Life goes on;

It eddies, swirls

Where love and sorrow

Ache and brim

As love of God

Kindly consoles

And fills the holes

With hope in Him

© Janet Martin

Hope...(and remembering Ron)

We at WBC as well as many worldwide are deeply mourning with his family,

 the sudden passing on Saturday Oct. 5, 

of our beloved teacher, counselor, pastor and friend, 

Ron Seabrooke.

(above link is to the last message with us a WBC)

Hope is the holiness through which we grieve.

Hope is the word that came up again and again as we remember Ron.

His life was driven by The Living Hope that he shed with his last breath as faith became sight!

To all of us then on this side of Heaven...

 Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, 

for He who promised is faithful.

Heb.10:23

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!

 In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope 

through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,

1 Pet.1:3

Hope takes the trembling heart and hand

To draw us from despair

And makes the way twixt God and man

Thus possible to bear

It hones the hunger for the goal

With holy appetite

And fills the gap twixt God and soul

With faith intent on sight

It drives us to our knees with groans

Then lifts us up at length

And to the depth of grief intones

A supernatural strength

It consoles us beneath trust’s rod

Its comforts, cheers and heals

And tunes the time twixt man and God

With purpose-driven peals

Hope fosters faith and leads us on

Through deepest, darkest vales

Hope anchors us in sorrow’s storm

With love that never fails

© Janet Martin