Homemaker's Hope

It is just an empty box

This shell of mortar, bricks, wood; stone

But it is what we put inside

That turns a house into a home

Lord, teach us how to fill our homes
Only with things that You approve

A haven from life’s troubled storms

Of joy and peace; of hope and love

And may the house that we call home

Dear Lord, by You be richly blessed

A place where each of us may come

And know that we are loved the best

© Janet Martin

Of Senses

 

As day breaks across the land

And night fades to the sky

I sense above, a Higher Hand

Moving the dark awry

And in the purple hush

Of fragile solitude

I sense beneath His tender brush

My waning strength renewed

Then, when the sky is full

Of morning’s virgin gleam

I sense within love’s patient pull

The will to dance and dream

 © Janet Martin

Of Silver Linings

If never a care touched the way we trod

And never a tear we cried

Then how would we ever desire You, God

Or trust in the strength You provide

If ever the want of this world is our goal

For the little that it can boast

I fear then we may have lost sight of the Whole

And what really matters the most

Through life’s deepest sorrow His Power is revealed

Unseen in life’s fair-fortune skies

His most wondrous wonders are tenderly concealed

In a trial and trouble disguise

Though we may not see Him in the heart of the test

Life is a mysterious track

How often we see that His way was the best

From the view-point of looking back

 

 © Janet Martin

The highest looking-back point is Heaven...and then it won't matter anymore because God will be so much more than this world can ever begin to imagine. 

I have a sister-in-law who suffers incredibly, yet she shines in submission beneath His will. 

For Karen, once again in need of our prayers.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD.

Isa.55:8

Affordable Gift for Any Season

None of us are quite so poor

That we cannot bestow

A word of kind encouragement

As we come or as we go

None of us are quite so rich

As to be unaffected

By words of kind encouragement

Far too often neglected

© Janet Martin

She Would Play Too...If Only

 image source: iowagirleats.com

She watches from her perch

Inside the window

Dark

Smiling at the children

Playing

In the park

It looks like fun

Snow angels; want aches
In her throat

She would play too, if only

She would have
A coat

© Janet Martin

Don't store those coats you no longer need. Donate them to your local coat-drives and family services! they need them, (any size). Drives are on now and nobody likes to be cold.

When Dusk Falls

When dusk fell over Bethlehem that night

When the bustle on the streets grew still

Did anyone other than the shepherd’s sight

The angels singing of peace and goodwill?

The shepherds saw and they believed

With haste they came to Him

Knowing this was no ordinary child

Born in Bethlehem

…Dusk falls at night across our day

The bustle on the street grows still

And those who believe haste to Him to pray

In the Spirit of peace and goodwill

For this is no ordinary Man

Offering into our embrace

A gift that He, the Lord has made

A brand new day of grace

When dusk falls over the earth tonight

And the bustle on the street grows still

As the gift He has given folds out of sight

Will it echo with peace and goodwill?

© Janet Martin

The Haunt of the Bending Wind

The haunt of the bending wind

Wanders that little path

Of echoes left behind

In living’s aftermath

The hush of the snow-bent pine

Frames childhood’s carefree kiss

We trampled; un-bereft of Time

And its fleet-fingered bliss

The still of midnight’s deep

Bends softly to my thought

Little good it does to weep

For days which now are not

The haunt of the bending wind

Roams life's season-swept wild

Tuning soft whispers in my mind

Of when I was a child

© Janet Martin

Yesterday we spent the afternoon watching a slide-show of photos from my mother and her parent's childhood/youth days, as my mother reminisced! It was keen reminder of the change rendered by time and how some things never change.

Love Language

 

Seems like our words

Can be hit or miss

Sometimes we need

The language of a kiss

Words can fall short

Or be misunderstood

The language of a kiss

Says things I never could

Its nice to speak words

Like ‘I love you’

But sometimes the language

Of a kiss will do

© Janet Martin