With What We Have...

Do you ever get tired of the same cook-and bake-scenery, wishing for fresh ideas to shake things up? 

Does it seem like, in spite of a rainbow of choices we end up with 'faithful spud' thudding our cooking pot (partly because no one ever says 'ew! what's this?!:) to a potato?

Well, dear cook in the kitchen of life,

welcome to a meander through an orchard of delicious possibilities and nostalgia!

Meet Rose, who makes everyone feel at home in her corner of the world

 as she shares recipes, reflections, and snap-shots of nostalgia! 

This is my attempt at Blueberry-lemon Muffins from her latest post.

Because I didn't have muffin liners mine look a little different from hers. 

I topped them with cinnamon sugar instead of the butter and sugar-dip suggested in the recipe, 

 so they could cool a little more before removing them from the pan. 

 Enjoy your choices today!

We may not always be able to choose the 'ingredients' we are handed in life

but we always choose how we use them!

With what I have, Lord make me glad

And not inclined to pine

Because of something someone had

That I wish would be mine

With what we have, Lord, make us fit

To touch the charge You grant

And never sit and pout a bit

In hopeless pits of ‘can’t’

With who we are, Lord, make us brave

Because of who You are

Lest we miss out on what we have

While wishing on a star

With what we have, Lord, help us choose

To serve its purpose well

Before the dimming of gold-blues

Where twilight’s shadow fell

© Janet Martin

Without a Word

Often with awed humility

The heart of man is stirred

The pages of God’s poetry

Are writ without a word

© Janet Martin

To Thee, Lovely Maiden In Front Of The Mirror

To thee, lovely maiden in front of the mirror

Let thee by an older Fraulein, be forewarned

Thy raving locks will let thee down, my dearest

And leave thee like many a fair ‘Venus’, scorned

Thy beaming beauty will fade like a flower

Thy fairest form to Time’s hand is fair game

To thee, lovely maiden in front of the mirror

Fix thy joy on something years cannot maim 

...but if thou wouldst worship the face in the mirror

Beaming with pride at the hide we call Youth

Then, I pray listen to this tidbit of caution

Someone is waiting to show you the truth
 

© Janet Martin

We Walk, Crawl, Leap, Fall, Die...

Sometimes when reading 'the greats ' of poetry

a voice mocks me with 'why do you even try?!!'

For the same reason 

they did, I am sure

...for only a poet knows the 'word-lust and lure' 

that it seems, the poet must
for better or worse,
endure 

This excerpt from De Profundis by Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

and a trek on skis through fences and trees

stirred today's poem...
This poem is from a gem of a book published in 1885.
 I found it a few years ago in a thrift store!

 (for easier reading click on image)

We walk on ages of leaf-lavished plunder

Hobos of hunger, we ravage its clime

Derelict darlings of God-authored wonder

Flickers of fancy on fields old as time

Sometimes we crawl beneath fir-boughs and fences

Hunting for something that just isn’t there

We, creatures cursed with a thirst for formed answers

Fumble for more than faith’s life-blood of prayer

We leap on landscapes once loved by forefathers

Tended and tilled by their blood, sweat and tears

Why in the scheme of progress and its authors

Should we think we are owed more than our peers

We fall, the Giver of grace bends to help us

He is hope’s kind ‘upsy-daisy, my sweet’

He never turns a blind eye nor forgets us

He is the Planter of blooms at our feet

We die the death of each breath-gifted being

This is the flip-side of all life bestowed

Then, when this body yields taste-touch-hear-seeing

We meet the One to whom our life is owed

We walk, crawl, leap and fall, all of us learning

Time is a tight-rope twixt cradle and grave

We, like acrobats balance awe and yearning

Inching toward The Fulfillment we crave

© Janet Martin

 

Philippians 3:14 

I press toward the mark 

for the prize 

of the high calling of God 

in Christ Jesus.

Blue-collar Heroes (an oldie re-vamped)

Last night around supper-hour behind the snowplow
came a lineup of homeward bound work-trucks, vans and cars
like pieces of a puzzle in the framework of a country.
Thank-you to all the working-class heroes, whoever, wherever you are!

Blue-collar brave-hearts

They've got no medals

No badges on their

Coat-sleeves or lapels

Working class warriors

Seeking no glory

Fighting life’s battles

And doing it well

Obscure battalion

Work-force deployment

Picks up the armor

Of shovel and cart

Grease-monkey heroes

Some push brooms, wheelbarrows
Keeping the country
From falling apart

Courageous convoy

Gallant and glorious

Punching the clock

While nobody applauds

Nobody mentions

Their names at a gala

For squaring their shoulders
Against all the odds

Blue-collar champions
Humble, hard workers 

 Diligent soldiers
Of toil's honest worth

Working class hero

How the world needs you

Tip 'o the hat
To the salt of the earth

© Janet Martin

. 

Thank-you for coming home tired and still playing with your kids.

Thank-you for not telling them how to live, but showing them.

Thank-you for giving even when life takes more than it seems you have.

Thank-you for being brave without medals,
honest without awards,
and diligent without applause.

Thank-you!

...and don't give up.

No Matter What...

Touchdown! No, not football...morning!

BUT!!!

...have you seen the inspiring footage coming out of the Superbowl 2018 ?!

It's hard to choose just one to share!!!

So exciting to see the glory given to The Giver of every good gift!

 

Below,  NFL players speak out for Christ!

 Dawn flings her golden cape across a waking world...

It wears us down,

It builds us up

It buoys faith

Or braces doubt

This stumble-tumble

Fumble-schlepp

Will humble us

If we are proud

It births the joy

That fathers grief

It breaks dark deep

With dawn’s discourse

Where deathly stealth

Of clock is chief

And only death

Usurps its force

It prepares us

For what is next

Yet what is next

No one full knows

It pricks our fingertips

With thorns

And delights visage

With its rose

Tick-tock, tick-tock

We crawl, we walk

We run and leap

And oh, we fall

While all the while

No matter what

God remains faithful

Through it all

© Janet Martin