Highway of Hope

I cannot bear to look ahead

To roads that seem too dark with dread

Oh Lord, my God, help me instead

To trust Thy All in all

For though the road looks dark today

As I peer to its come-what-may

Your faithful Light will show the Way

Through every rise and fall

I cannot carry morrow’s load

But cling to promises that goad

Faith’s eyes to fix beyond the road

To Mercy’s Patriarch

Then when I travel through the vale

Though mortal bark is weak and frail

You grant with Love that will not fail

Light greater than the dark

© Janet Martin

 So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
 I will strengthen you and help you;
 I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Isa.41:10

To the Salt of the Earth

Couldn't decide what to call this poem...

To the Builders of Success

The Beauty of Job Well done

No Small Man (if He gives the Best he can)

Dreamer's Pedestal

To the One Who Pulls the Weeds;-)

....the list is endless

but the gist is this...

We NEED the 'little man'...

Last year I joined a team at church that helps with planning a few services throughout the year

and it made me realize how much I under-appreciate all the thought, prayer and common task

accomplished through MANY hands that make each Sunday morning service happen!

It got me to thinking about how in life what may appear, at first glance,

a pretty minor role is a vital part of all success's heart and soul!

Let's thank someone for what they do today!

There is no 'small man' and dollar does not decide value!

 

Easy to brag and boast a bit

Or loaf about idle, or sit

And stare into an air-filled glass

And dream about life’s greener grass

Easy to criticize the man

Who does the simple best he can

Though small and plain may seem his nod

Behind the scenes that we applaud

Easy to praise paraded art

That appeals to the human heart

And overlook the hand that made

The canvas whereon it was laid

Easy to see the one who stands

Atop a ladder made of hands  

Hard, hard to rival this, my son,

All the small tasks success builds on

Hard, hard to estimate the worth

Of humble roles that fill the earth

Where nothing is greater, my son

Than beauty of Duty well done

© Janet Martin

 Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, 

for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, 

there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.

Eccles.9:10

Heart-a-Tug, Kiss-Kiss-Hug...

With each grunt and squirm and kick

Baby grows up far too quick

With each kiss-nap-smile and tear

Baby’s closer to a year

With each bubble-bath and song

Baby’s growing big and strong

With each cuddle, hush-a-bye

Baby’s learning how to fly

Feed-burp-change and tweak of chin

With each dimpled cherub-grin

Pat-a-cake and peek-a-boo

Nighty-night and I love you

…with each slow-sweet snuggle-hug

Reach-crawl-bump, we feel the tug

With each skip-a-heartbeat, oh

Mother’s learning to let go

© Janet Martin

Photo Credits for the blackboard shots; Emily Curry

Photo credit for this last pic: Brittany Ruppert

Outfit credit for last photo: "Mimi'  Curry

Baby Grows...

 

A year ago my niece took Brantley's newborn baby pics...

Last week she took his first birthday photos!

Our baby is quickly becoming Little Boy

While mouths drip with lithe laughter and with riotous lament

While hearts grip love so tender, siring joy and discontent

While we prep then clean up; we fall apart and then regroup

While we devour hours like hearty potato soup

Baby grows

While we hope, hold and worry, wish and want, heart over-run

So happy-sad with what we have then had when it is gone

While we weather the weather whatever its will may be

And gape at moments untethered and shaping history

Baby grows

While we sometimes forget to treasure the measure of Now

While we work, play, hurt, pray, push-pull an intangible plow

While we are startled by the way a heart can break and climb

While we choose pinks and blues, pay dues to faithful Father Time

Baby grows

While we hug, cuddle, kiss, snuggle and weep with utter joy

That we should be so blessed by Darling Little Girl or Boy

While we think we have miles to go before they fly away

And Mr. Should convinces us Time grants many a day

Baby…

Baby?

Baby is grown

© Janet Martin

Someday when Brantley wants seconds and thirds of cake we'll remind him of this...

Brantley was afraid of his birthday cake!

A week or so before his birthday he attended a friend's birthday party and wanted no part of  blue and green icing! But we didn't realize how much he hated it until he saw his cake...

We sang Happy Birthday...while he began looking a little concerned...

then we served him a piece and dabbed  frosting on his mouth...
he pulled away as if we had placed a monster in front of him
and burst into tears!

'maybe he can't taste it' we say,  so we try a little more icing...

He gags;-)) SO funny.

Of course we didn't insist he eats cake:)

One more Brantley's First Year post here

Below; my favorite song by The Oakridge Boys...
my favorite line in it is; 'the nearest thing to heaven is a child".