On Wanting What We Have...

And suddenly I want for naught

But that which has been granted me

Perhaps a little garden-plot

And toil to soil my hands and feet

A little dish to fill and serve

A stream to sit and dream at will

A string perhaps to fish the verve

Of silver strung beneath the hill

A giggling boy or girl to soothe

And smooth the wrinkles on my brow

Where care would surely be a ruth-

Less tyrant; all I want is Now

A little song to sing, a prayer

To pray and fortify my hope

A spoon that spills in sun-kissed air

A stroll on daisy-dappled slope

I want the things I do not have

My ‘do-not-haves’ the odyssey

Whereby I learn to brave the crave-

-ing of wishes that cannot be

And suddenly I do not grieve

Those leaves I pined for yesterday

Reminded it is God who gives

And also God who takes away

© Janet Martin

Does this happen to you? When you see someone lose that which we tend to take for-granted every day, suddenly Do you not ever-so-simply want only what you have?!

Tis No Small Thing...

Tis no small thing to stand upon the brink of pink-birthed Day

And touch our feet to sod and heart to God where Unknowns splay

Tis no small thing to drink with eyes, extensions of His grace

And realize the awesomeness of Time’s intricate space

Tis no small thing to grip the handle of mortality

Poised inconceivable, on fathoms of eternity

Where touch and trust and taste prove without words who is our God

Tis no small thing, this travelling across Time’s bitty sod

Tis no small thing to humbly bend the knee and bow the head

Acknowledging the hand that breaks our loaf of Daily Bread

Sensing Something much bigger than the tides that ebb and flow

Tis no small thing to drink the dripping cup of Here and Now

Enter His gates with thanksgiving; enter His courts with praise

Tis no small thing; this ephemeral string of numbered days

The Here that we encounter but a vapor-winnowing

Bear well the air of ‘Ere Farewell’ where There is no small thing

© Janet Martin

Then We Return...

Then we return shouldered a-fresh with comfort for our hurt

Committed to more tears to weep upon time’s heap of dirt

Life’s love-and-labor tempest heaves beneath hope’s diadem

Where short-comings rise up like judges ready to condemn

And we feel so inadequate when facing longing’s wake

But God so rich in mercy does not leave us or forsake

Failure would be a choking noose about the rose of dawn

Without the promises of God that we depend upon

For often we are caught up in the sup of afternoon

When surly farewell comes to kiss our faces far too soon

And stunned, we taste anew the haste of both pleasure and pain

Yet, God so rich in mercy grants another ‘try-again’

This place of grace and hope and faith and trust is formed of dust

The storms of life unleash upon its seasons ordained Must

And none of us are spared our share of opportunity

To taste and see the Lord is good and cares for you and me

Though we cannot begin to understand His perfect will

God, ever rich in mercy whispers to us, ‘peace, be still’

© Janet Martin

Then we return, after memorial services rich with words of comfort  and reminders of God’s unfailing strength to slam-bam, everyday life!! The ‘mom, we’re hungry’ and ‘the bathroom tap won’t shut off’ and ‘our books are overdue at the library’ and ‘Matthew, take off your manure-y clothes before your come into the kitchen!!’  and again, ‘what’s here to eat?!’

We return shod with God’s promise, My grace is sufficient for thee, My power made perfect in weakness’

and a new appreciation for the mundane everyday-ness of love and life. We hug barn-smelly boys, crave noise,  glad we can set a pan on the stove and crack eggs into it, smile and pay our fine and talk to librarian friends about the beautiful service, because they care and grieve too, and we pray to God so rich in mercy, that we do not dwell on where we failed in the past but on which yet remains to be.

Shaping Reflection

The sun has climbed above the line dividing sky and sod

Where time expands from gracious hands of our loving God

And we are here though none can see or say how far its thread

Extends before we too must go to lie among the dead

Then we should give our utter-best

To He who tends Time’s east to west

For soon the sun that climbs into the blue of Unknown’s way

Will dip and slip into the fellowship of yesterday

Where all that we reflect upon beams like a steadfast star

Joining the cast of all that we have said and done thus far

Then, we should do the best we can

To shape with diligence that span

The thoroughfare from here to there is brief in spite of years

The long-ness of forever soon absorbs Time’s transient spheres

Oh, pray that we regard this hard and testing leap with awe

Before it is too late to change one tittle of its law

For we have but one life to live

Oh pray, it is our best we give

© Janet Martin

When we reflect upon another’s life it causes us to reflect upon our own, remarked a speaker at Arnold’s memorial service yesterday….

 Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him. James 1:12

Arnold remained steadfast. Will we?

What Mothers Love...

Though flowers are so pretty

And make us feels like kings

We Mothers love to be loved with

Life’s lovely simple things

The gifts that we most treasure

Are not sold in a shop

But spill in unexpected hugs

Of, ‘thanks, I love you, Mom’

My dears, you cannot fathom

The depth of tenderness

Within a mother’s heart of hearts

For your full happiness

And while we cherish deeply

Your cards and gifts and such

Love renders something dearer

That presents cannot touch

We love your thoughtful sentiments

But even more than these

We love the moments that turn into

Lifetime memories

© Janet Martin

On Friday evening Emily came over because Melissa was home for the week-end and we 'girls' hung out, drinking tea, laughing and chatting about...anything! When Melissa was feeling badly about not being home to bring something next weekend I told her she under-estimates the value of her being here, right here, right now, and that her mother's joy-cup is over-flowing simply by her coming home from time to time!

My son just sent me a 'the coffee was delicious' text from school. Aren't those little 'love-notes' the best?!

These are the 'gifts' a mother treasures.