Of That Which Was

Wow! Where did last week go??

Oh yes, now I remember...

It slipped, as every moment has

Through That Which Is

To That Which Was...

Its beaming bloom...

faded...

...and fell

pressed on pages of history, for now...

What a crucial place That Which Was is!

Why? Because That Which Was is the title of a book

that holds the story of our life!

Each day is like a page where we pen living proof

(or lack thereof,)

of our loving devotion to God.

Monday is kind of like the beginning to a new chapter,

where though many things unfold beyond our full control

our response to each circumstance is up to us;

yielding either acts of the flesh 

Gal.5:19-21

19 Now the works of the flesh are evident, 

which are: [d]adultery, [e]fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, 

20 idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies,

 outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies,

 21 envy, [f]murders, drunkenness, revelries, and the like; 

of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, 

that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

or fruits of the Spirit.

Gal.5:22-25

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, 

longsuffering, kindness, goodness, 

faithfulness, 23 [g]gentleness, self-control. 

Against such there is no law. 

24 And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh 

with its passions and desires. 

25 If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. 

26 Let us not become conceited,

 provoking one another, 

envying one another.

 Does this not make you grateful for the loving grace of God 

Each morn He heaps a plateful of fresh mercies to applaud 

The soft velocity of Time doles out in equal share

That which soon fades into a clime filled with spent moment-fare

While momentum of tick-tock tolls the tempo to a charge

That, like a phantom ocean rolls through each Soul's mortal Barge

That Which Is grants from God, fresh chance to trust and try again

No matter what the circumstance He will not fail. Amen

Though oft we do, His love is faithful to forgive each sin

That we confess. His blood is able to cleanse us within 

 

So, though life is full of mistakes and disappointment's rue

We find amidst its much heartbreak much loving kindness too 

Like golden stars that glimmer on backdrops of 'live and learn'

Where we are all beginners with each morning's new page-turn

 Does this not make you grateful for the loving grace of God 

Each morn He heaps a plateful of fresh mercies to applaud 

To redeem well What Is, with reverent regard because

The Ink of Reply does not miss the (holy) mark of That Which Was

© Janet Martin 

Rom.14:11-13

For it is written:

“As I live, says the Lord,

Every knee shall bow to Me,

And every tongue shall confess to God.”

12So then each of us shall give account of himself to God.

  13Therefore let us not judge one another [d]anymore, 

but rather resolve this, not to put a stumbling block 

or a cause to fall in our brother’s way.

***

If you feel so led, I invite you to pray

for loved ones mentioned HERE and HERE?!!

Their prayer-needs are not over yet.

The family, who, through many prayers

God provided a home, moved into their new home on Saturday

and would cherish continued prayers 

as they unpack and adjust!

***

And also for our church family member

 who broke his leg in Dec. and who still 

has a long road to recovery ahead.

Please pray for both healing and encouragement!

Pray that we may listen to the Spirit's prompting

to know how help and how to cheer him and his family

 🙏💝

 

Like a Butterfly...(or, Beneath a Beaming Breadth of Sky)

How sacredly grief keens awareness 

to the preciousness of 

what we sometimes call Ordinary.

How it stuns us, as we realize 

it is Love!

and, what we once considered 'little things' 

are in reality the big things;

the hymn of touch, 

a smile, a hug, a card, a bloom,

a handshake, 'hello', a child, a chick,

an autumn afternoon,

a cup of tea, a meal and 'small-talk' shared, 

a breath-prayer, a holy pause

to marvel at God's infinite supply of mercies 

and then to thank Him, because

no matter what was or will be

He loves and cares for you and me 

***

It's so hard to accurately describe the beauty

of compassion from family, neighbors and friends;

 how your/their tender love strangely sweetens 

sorrow's most bitter parts

Thank-you to each and every one of you

as you remind/teach me anew

 1 Cor. 13:13

And now these three remain: 

faith, hope and love. 

But the greatest of these is love.

***

Love never fails;

it turns heart-wrenching loss

into a startling gift

we would never choose

or know;

a gift, God-breathed to heal

grief's brutal wounds

as love's tears flow...

***

Ps.147:3

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

***

Isa.52:7

How beautiful on the mountains (or in a barnyard) 

are the feet of those who bring good news, 

who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, 

who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, 

“Your God reigns!”

These youngsters (blurred to protect privacy)

 overflowed with sympathy, questions and conversation

at the farm where I buy our fresh-as-they-come eggs

(often they run to gather them, still warm with the touch of God!)

SO many gentle moments to cherish...

Beneath a beaming breadth of sky

Life feels like a cheek, kissed

As Time wafts, like a butterfly

To bygone’s croft of mist

As joy and sorrow’s interplay

Composes Bittersweet

Arrangements, strewn like petal-fray

That flutters to the street

Where Fleeting Footfalls thrum and fade

Through seasons come, to pass

Like subtle arpeggios played

On keys of breeze and grass

Where children romp, their innocence

Cradles oblivion

To the brute strength of mere moments

Ever-so-deftly spun

Like threads, into a work of art

As tears and laughter meld

Love’s precious glints of heart-to-heart

That we so briefly held

Beneath a beaming breadth of sky

Where Today/lifetimes seem/s so small

As we waft like a butterfly

Toward Dusk’s shadow fall

Beneath a beaming breadth of sky

By faith we humbly hear

God, kindly whisper, 'here am I

To catch each falling tear'

© Janet Martin

My neighbour, walking from her house to mine, bringing last night's supper 💝

and last but not least

this morning's kind reminder devotion from the book

Springs in the Valley by Mrs. Chas E. Cowman

Time's Wise, Worthwhile and Most Beautiful Redemption

Ephesians 5:15-16

Pay careful attention, then, 

to how you walk,

 not as unwise but as wise,

redeeming the time, 

because the days are evil.

A wet garden stroll this morning

with coffee and camera in hand 

(naturally 😊)

Larkspur 

Sunflower

rain-bent geranium

Daylily

Hosta

Dipladenia

Petunia

Hollyhock

Honeysuckle

Can there be a wiser way

To redeem time’s hours

Than to spend a summer’s day

Communing with flow’rs

Than for half an afternoon

Stop to smell the roses

Awed at petal-poem boon

Only God composes

Than to gaze at Queen Ann’s lace

Studying its stitches

Than to reverently trace

Detail that bewitches

Than be sweetly stunned to find

Myriad masterpieces

Then, be more worship inclined

As wonder increases

Can there be a better way

To relieve love’s duty

Than to pause, a summer’s day

In God-gardened beauty

Can there be a purer laud

Than in bloom bent bow'r

Than to grasp a glimpse of God

Smiling in each flower 

Sh-h-h! Can you hear wisdom woo

Gloriously granted?

To be like a flower too

And bloom where we're planted 

© Janet Martin

Time, Precious Time

Happy July!

Glorious, sun-drenched blue-sky July!

The gardener's playground,

A child's splash of freedom from school-routines

A poet's (and farmer's) paradise 

of early daybreak and long, slow, dewy, dusty dusk!

In Canada we are celebrating Canada Day!

There is so much about this country I love and so much I mourn.

The faith/Rock it was built upon is being boldly trampled underfoot.

When a house or country is not built on the Rock but on sand, 

how great is the fall of it!

A country is only as strong as its people.

A people are only as strong as their faith.

Faith is only as strong as the Thing that fortifies it;

 how much we fear/revere the one true God

Prov.9:10-12

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom,

and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.

11For through wisdomb your days will be multiplied,

and years will be added to your life.

12If you are wise, you are wise to your own advantage;

but if you scoff, you alone will bear the consequences.

A cool, foggy beginning to July!

June's farewell dusk was a beauty to behold!

Precious Time is one thing we all have in common;

How much of it we have is up to Giver.

What we do with it is up to us!

Time is bestowed, not in lump sums, but sacred breath by breath

Only God knows how long before its lease succumbs to death

Where it is up to you and me to choose to use full-well

Each new day’s opportunity, before dusk’s tolling bell

Time’s moment-measure kindles clocks, and grants so much at stake

Where stepping stones and stumbling blocks are scattered in its wake

Where eyes and ears and feet and hands, (not commonplace at all)

Are instruments that Thought commands, while countries rise and fall

Time, precious time; a twinkling star filled with fleeting ado

Where what we think and who we are is up to me and you

Take heed; Thought is unmolded in accountability

After the tent is folded that harbours eternity

Time, precious time lowers a stage hinged to a solemn Door

On this side we engage in proving Who/who we most adore

But on the other side of it, after dusk’s final toll

Time, precious Time will be the flit that keeps all but the Soul

© Janet Martin

Matt.7:24-27

Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them,

 I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:

25 And the rain descended, and the floods came, 

and the winds blew, and beat upon that house;

 and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.

26 And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not,

 shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand:

27 And the rain descended, and the floods came, 

and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; 

and it fell: and great was the fall of it.

Love Letter from a Father

Today's poem-prompt form Robert Lee Brewer @ Writer's Digest:

For today's prompt, write a persona poem.

 A persona poem is just a poem narrated in the voice of a persona who is not yourself.

Because I grant no guarantees

I tick and tock, I fly and chime...

Dear You, proprietor of dreams

And plans, that I alone estrange

Where, no matter the age, it seems

Human Nature will never change

Dear You, I'd like to, if I may

Before I take you by surprise 

And what now seems secure, falls prey

To resting places I disguise   

I'd like to remind you to pause

And ponder well, all I have lent

Making the most of Now, because

You never know when I am spent

Futile to want what Bygone seals

Or wish for what may never be

Better the hour that still peals

With fleeting opportunity 

Some think that I am on their side

And live as if I thought so too

But I am the taut, tender tide

 That tugs and tolls with dust and dew 

No respecter of persons, I

Am but a servant too, you see

Morning, noon, night is my reply

To a Higher Authority

Before it is to late to give

What I cannot, when 'we' have passed

I want to remind you to live

As if each day could be your last

Because I grant no guarantees

I tick and tock, I fly and chime

My legacy, your memories,

Yours duly, truly, 

Father Time

© Janet Martin

Of (Fleeting) Time and Place

I'm currently working at painting and preparing a vacant bedroom

as a spare bedroom (aka grandchildren's sleepover room😊😉💓)

Two coats of primer later, Matt's old room colour, 

the colour of a basketball, is simply a memory!

painted during the boyhood basketball phase of his life;

 a phase long overtaken by more pressing matters, (like mortgages,😅)

Proof of the fleeting POOF!! 

of stages and ages, interests and passions!

Reminding us to build on the eternal 

rather than the temporal because...

 ...the things which are seen are temporary, 

 the things which are not seen are eternal.

2 Cor.4:18

I finished listening to this book yesterday as I painted...

God's Smuggler

The book is filled with profound thoughts and experiences 

but the one below, near the end of the book

made me put down my brush and jot it down!

Starkly relevant for the age we are in...

(When, after gaining access to a country through great effort and pains,

 he (Brother Andrew) proceeded to hand out Bibles, but no one seemed interested)

And he was struck with this revelation-

'Persecution was an enemy the church had met and mastered many times.

Indifference could prove to be a far more dangerous foe!'

**

Pray, we do not slip into indifference, 

but live, deeply aware that we are all 

on a very impending verge... of  eternity

***

Jude 1:3-4

Beloved, although I made every effort to write to you about the salvation we share,

 I felt it necessary to write and urge you to contend earnestly for the faith

 entrusted once for all to the saints. 

4For certain men have crept in among you unnoticed—

ungodly ones who were designated long ago for condemnation. 

They turn the grace of our God into a license for immorality, 

and they deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ.

***

 

The blessings we enjoy

The heartaches we endure

Grievances that annoy

Dreams loosed from the mind’s moor

The ups and downs we face

The fights twixt faith and fear

Are all hallmarks of time and place

And temporary, dear

Love’s holy exercise

Of hold-and-letting-go

Of glad hellos and hard goodbyes

Of retrospect’s slideshow

Of choice, for better-worse

And not all it appears

Of consequence we bless or curse

With laughter or with tears

Pleasure’s brief blitz of bliss

Suffering’s griefs and pains

All pass way; the genesis

To all that yet remains

Of everlasting gain

Or everlasting loss

These moments in the sun and rain

Are but bridges we cross

That lead away from This

Brief encounter with grace

Where soul alone transcends What Is

Of fleeting Time and Place

The fool rejects this truth

The wise take heed and pray

Because death is the living proof

Of this world’s little stay

Then, while we can, prepare

To meet Thy God, before

We step from time’s fleet thoroughfare

Into Forevermore

© Janet Martin

Ode to Father Time

Dear Father Time...

I never tire of your ways...

Your sweet and sun-steeped golden days...(today, a balmy 20C)

Your contours, swaddled in soft grays...

Your landscapes, washed in pink...

A quick pit-stop for supper and off again)

Spring is like a dog straining wildly at its leash today!

I never tire of your ways

Your sweet and sun-steeped golden days

Your contours, swaddled in soft grays

Your landscapes, washed in pink

Your rough-and-tumble give and take

Your waves that sob and surge and break

Across shorelines that gleam and ache

With untamed poem-ink

I never tire of your hymn

It trembles in the barren limb

And throbs as buds begin to brim

With orchestras of green

With daybreak’s lilac-tinted sighs

And twilight’s gentle lullabies

With hellos, harboring goodbyes

With all that falls between

I never tire of your waltz

Your minuet and somersaults

Your promenade that never halts

But twirls me round and round

Till I am breathless with delight

Yet never tire of the sight

Of you, gilt-edged ‘gainst gath’ring night

Of a new day unbound

I never tire of your ease

Turning moments to memories

Taming my younger-hungered pleas

With humble thankfulness

My cheek against your stubbly chin

Ah, darling, how can I begin

To count your ways I cannot win

Yet love you nonetheless

© Janet Martin

Sheer Veneer

Is the haste of a season sometimes almost more than you can bear too?

Tonight we lingered, sipping rich, black espresso in the crisp, gold dusk...

Time’s fabric is so sheer

Like mist-embellished gauze

That gathers up laughter and tears

Into the year that was

How easily it slips

Through fingertips and sighs

Like poetry of eyes and lips

Of hellos and goodbyes

Futile to linger where

The daylight disappears

Beneath a shawl of dark blue air

Un-weathered by the years

How swiftly seasons waft

Like silver thistledown

Above the quiet woodland doffed

Of spring-to-autumn’s crown

We reach but cannot trace

The thread that weaves the year

As season-stitches interlace

Time’s fabric remains sheer

Let's savor its sheer bliss

With love's sheer appetite 

And let the sheer wonder of This

Fill us with sheer delight

© Janet Martin