Grace-moments

Don’t grieve that it’s gone, wonder that it was.
Laugh that you lived and dance that you dared.
Inhale that it happened — and it was grace.  Ann Voskamp a Holy Experience

...and so, that is what we do
slipping new seasons over our shoulders
like the earth wears spring, then summer,
fall then winter, 
snow after the dew...
moments melded by God's grace
into laugh lines on our faces
and memories that the heart embraces
as thought re-traces 
where feet cannot go

...for the heart is a harbor 
from which dreams set sail
or come home to anchor
 in time's shifting swell 
so we ought to live fully 
in each moment because
soon it will simply be
what once was...

J~

My kids birthdays make me a little sentimental:)

On Holding...

 Happy 15th Birthday, Matthew

I will not hold you back

Though it seems I might try

When every fiber in my being

Aches with days gone by

Life is a forward track

Into the great unknown

And oh, I will not hold you back

Dear son of almost-grown

The days of rocking chairs

And storybooks and such

I know they are still there

For memories to touch

And sometimes late at night

When the whole world is black

Against my heart I hold you tight

But I won’t hold you back

Life is a forward march

And love learns to let go

Even while I  hold you close

As prayers and moments flow

And though sometimes I trace

The shadows of the past

I wish for you God’s richest grace

I will not hold you back

© Janet Martin

What Mothers Count

We do not count the messes they make

Or the pieces of laundry we wash and fold

The sleepless nights when they are wee

These are the scores that are never told

No, we do not count the meals we prepare

The miles we walk from fridge to stove

Or the prayers we weep when we cannot sleep

As our hearts ache with the hard side of love

We do not count our scolding and sighs

Trips to the dentist, to school, to town

And we do not care to tally mistakes

Lord knows we make enough of our own

But we count our blessings in kisses and hugs

In ‘I love you, Mom and then, ‘I love you too’

We count the hours until they are home

As years sparkle softly into the vast blue

© Janet Martin

The Color of Extra-ordinary

There are no 'ordinaries' on a sunny spring day

Polished with azure and honey-kissed hue

Even the mundane is grandiose because

The color of 'extra' is spring-sky's gold-on-blue

There are no ordinaries on a green May day

Dappled with violet-song wooing our feet

Duty is pleasure where spring's artist doles

The color of 'extra' in sun-warm-and-sweet

Janet Martin~

Spring's Loveliness

She spills to earth such lovely things

The birth of leaf like new-born wings

Of butterfly from dark cocoon

Unfolding in delicate swoon

She frolics, splashing on the hill

Gold diadem of daffodil

And from the swamp of mud and musk

Spring-peepers herald the silver dusk

She sprinkles violets on the slope

In fragrant metaphors of hope

She unfurls purple lilac-stars

And fill the woods with choristers

The quarry far beneath mute sod

Is ripe with miracles from God

And then one night a gentle sheen

Drapes stricken soil in verdant green

It seems that none can shun her call

Of sun-clad feet and blossom shawl

She grins from cups of tulip-grace

Ah, spring has such a lovely face

© Janet Martin

This is the Hour

This is the hour

Where April’s last shower

Has spilled its endearments to spring’s breathless bud

And this is the chapter

Where May’s buoyant laughter

Kisses the landscape in emerald flood

We sign our pardon

In bare feet and gardens

Instant forgiveness for winter’s long stay

For this is the hour

Of sunshine and flower

As April’s last shower slips up and away

© Janet Martin

It's as if May knew we were expecting the opposite of April's lingering showers! We have four days of sunshine in the forecast!

Of Being a Mother

• April's final PAD challenge; Two-for-two Tuesday
• Write a finished poem.
• Write a never finished poem.

It's the unendingness of it all that is staggering
Burden and beauty tenderly entwine
Soon little hands tug away from our reaching
Tendrils of new bloom twisting from the vine
And often we wander within the heart's pondering
Over the years that flow seamless and brief
Learning that labor-pain is but the dawning
Of love's keen travail in its tender-sweet grief
Vigilant caring and joy like no other
This is the labor of being a mother

First motherhood; virgin unawareness
Eager and ignorant; hope undefiled
Wails, now dependent on this girl-child woman
Laughing and weeping, she cradles her child
And we are forever in our bosom severed
We will never be who we were before
As fear and faith rival where innocence trembles
And motherhood places its wreath on our door
High, holy calling unlike any other
This is the charge of being a mother

Ecstasy, agony, holding, releasing
Heaven's allotment placed into our care
Tenderly teaching within our reaching
And earnest beseeching from hands clasped in prayer
For in the magnitude of love's great vocation
God  will not leave us like sheep in the wild
The Shepherd of mortal is faithful and patient
He holds the mother as she holds her child
Granting His mercy unlike any other
This is the comfort of being a mother

Janet Martin

I could never forgive myself for some of my mothering mistakes, but for the knowing that God forgives.

Of Renewed Aspiration

We touch our feet once more

To Time’s familiar way

Of ticking clocks and charted walks

And living’s scattered fray

The mist of life’s unknowns

May veil the hour’s will

But God beholds its ether folds

The pleasant and the ill

We touch our feet upon

Hope’s path of trampled dirt

For God abides where fear resides

In living’s lonesome hurt

Before the purple dusk

Enshrouds this little day

I pray that we live thankfully

And trust God for its way

© Janet Martin