Treasure the Measure...

Treasure the measure of summer’s swift pleasure

For at the mercy of seasons are we

Hours are flowers unfolding in bowers

Spilled out in moments whose breadth none can see

Tarry, then bury the past that will ne’er be

Look where a new day is filling the sky

Older, we shoulder Time’s ethereal boulder

Still, virgin moments quicken their reply

Soundless stampede; need and greed bleed freely

Where we seek blessing in spite of The Curse

Humbly, we stumble and fumble; why grumble?

We’re in this together, for better or worse

So treasure the measure of summer’s swift pleasure

Not as a fool loosely spending Time’s gold

Better, as debtor to One we will weather

By His kind mercy what grace will unfold

© Janet Martin

‘Getting old is hard’, said the brave, silver-haloed warrior and I knew she referred to far more than physical ailment. Life can hold its keenest disappointments until we are old, but its return is a softer and more gracious love for others if we allow grace to work its wonder.

Kaleidescopes

In this kaleidoscope of dark and light

Where moments melt to mem’ry; day to night

Within a ticking-tocking teeny hour

The begging bud becomes a beaming flower

But only for a little while; the tomb

Is gaping where these bonny beggars bloom

Beneath the wide-eyed welkin middle-day

In Eden’s age-old fashion flits away

And we re-shift our chairs, adapt to change

While ever still Time’s massifs rearrange

This mosaic of youth to middle age

To rocking chairs perplexes and prepares

Us for the cap sheaf of existence; that last page

When our book closes and we climb those mystic stairs

After life’s prayer and careworn little bit

To meet the Master who makes all the pieces fit

…this awesome undertaking of a day

If realized steals our breath away

For Hope, our ultimate lifeline extends

Beyond this scope where ignorance pretends

What still remains to come we do not know

Or how long is Time’s sweep from here to There?

The colors of this aching ebb and flow

Fills retrospect with sympathetic prayer

…the seed becomes the bud, the bloom exhales

Before the Certainty of death prevails

…yet season-scapes persist; its rooming-house

Embraces eager children in its joust

While this kaleidoscope of day to night

Turns moments into mem’ries; day to night…

© Janet Martin

Yesterday at our family-reunion we reminisced and remarked at the changes in ten years; there are ten children in my family and we each take a turn to host our summer get-together. Yesterday we were at the home of my oldest sister and we were reflecting on the changes since the last time they hosted it! What will another ten years bring? Only God knows.

Bedrock of Wealth

Oh, would that we from here to there

Not by the wealth of coin defined

But by our love for God and man

Leave a rich heritage behind

Oh, may the treasure that we store

Not be of dust and rust-prone hoard

But earnestly and carefully

A daily seeking of our Lord

And may those stepping-stones we lay

For those who follow where we trod

Be rooted and unshakeable

Grounded within the Word of God

...and if they say Mother or Dad

May it bring a great gladness then

As they grow up, to know we had

Love and respect for fellowmen

Oh, would that we from here to there

Be mindful of our children’s sake

And live each day within a prayer

Then leave its fortune in our wake

© Janet Martin

Of Imagination and Temptation

   

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Mankind’s thought super-power

Is imagination

Prone to both good or evil

For with it comes temptation

How subtle is deception

This testing of our will

Amplifies weakness or brute strength

To fight for good or ill

How can we battle purely

What thought perceives as ‘nice’?

Prayer is our single sure defense

Against temptation’s vice

For thought, the lone precursor

To everything we do

Proves through our action who we serve

In places hid from view

...and mankind’s super-power

Is imagination

Thought is the doorway whereby we

Are led into temptation

 How can we guard the barracks

Immune to force of limb?

The Word of God is faultless

and fills our thoughts with Him

© Janet Martin

What a great undertaking imagination is...

soon it reveals its colors in wisdom or foolishness

Imagination is a great thing. Every astonishing invention was the fruit of someone’s imagination, but imagination is also the first-fruit of temptation!

 No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. 1 Cor. 10:13

By The Return of Flowers

Sometimes it seems we mark the years by these fine friends of ours

How sweet it is when re-appears the fellowship of flowers

Those empty vases tucked away in winter hiding places

Are filled with lupine, peony and other darling faces

Now laughing down the dusty lane of ordinary meadows

Hails Queen Ann’s Lace, daisy, flea-bane to tease commonplace shadows

The garden sings with iris plume and lily-bloom companions

The hummingbird and honey-bee drink deep from fragrant fountains

Our winter-want is satisfied in purples, pinks and yellows

We stroll or linger long beside these fine and friendly fellows

For we know farewell trembles even in life’s fullest hour

And we cannot afford to miss the friendship of its flower

The new becomes the old too soon; youth dons Time’s sweeter sorrow

How easily an afternoon surrenders to tomorrow

…as swift a season disappears in silent petal-showers

And ever still we chart the years by the return of flowers

© Janet Martin

Often I find myself comparing years to flowers, such as that year the so-and-so was blooming when…

I took your birthday picture and the lilacs were blooming already, etc…

Some years the peonies bloom early in June (at my daughter’s birthday) and other years they make great year-end teacher-gifts!

Victoria remarked recently that she misses our porchulaca flowers. They came up on their own for a few years after one year of planting but somehow the other year they didn't re-seed. We miss flowers a little like friends who have passed beyond our reach...