Hope's Bugle-call

Foolish me! Trying to delay the inevitable by hitting snooze
hoping nine more minutes of oblivion will somehow
make it easier to switch from the horizontal position to the vertical,
but never does!

Foolish, foolish everyone who tries to thwart The Inevitable by ignoring it!

 This morning the sun broke through stunning hues of blue like a brass-bugle call...

Pry thy Soul-ship from Thy berth

Creature-care awaits

Love in flawless forms of worth

Storms through eastern gates

Rise and shine and take thy place

In life’s line of thanks

God extends his divine grace

To earth’s chosen ranks

Left foot-right-foot-left-foot-right

Mercy’s sacred charge

Bids us onward as we fight

Enemies at large

Don the Armor God designed

Without it we fall

Keep thy Victory in mind

Heed Hope’s bugle call

Forbid we, with foolish heart

Satan’s darts ignore

Soon we will see, not in part

Who we’re fighting for

© Janet Martin

There's no doubt about it; we are in a fight of our lives!
Only the true believer survives!

 Eph.6:10-18

 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  

 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.  

 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.  Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.  Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place,  

and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.  

 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, 

with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.  

Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. 

With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.

Love the words to this song to 'rally the troops' to persevere

 

The Art of Arranging Heart Pieces

The raw edge of a moment can slice through our thickest skin

Right to the core that cups the storehouse of love’s grit and grin

And it can scatter tatters like a swatch of phantom fray

That nothing holds together but the tether of today

Where, with the medium of verse the poet tries to snare

The colors of an afternoon soft-fading on thin air

Like ephemeral fabric of time’s cambric, silk and tulle

Shirred into words like stay-for-supper, yes, and wonderful

For nothing takes the place of faces sporting happiness

They fill up hollow spaces with invisible finesse

Yet, tug with tender beckoning for someone to arrange

These estranged bits and pieces into Art that will not change

And thus the poet tiptoes over Bygone’s hallowed seal

To try to fit together pieces that Time cannot steal

(…a dash of Sonny’s freckles and sash off Missy’s frock

A splash of Johnny’s innocence, a baby’s silken lock

A little shoe, a peek-a-boo, a can-I-use-the-car

The tendril of sleep-tight and twinkle, twinkle, little star

A bright mosaic made of scattered toys, a tear to kiss 

The endless to-do list on hold for joys too dear to miss

A book to read the umpteenth time, supper served in three shifts

And oh the beaming face behind a birthday cake and gifts

A line laden with living proof of busy family

Making a home from walls and roof, that else mere house would be

 And lest dear mother might forget the beauty midst the mess

As love and care add hints of wear to her once-raven tress

With slam of door and messy floor and smudge of window-art

A Poem finds a way to turn them into works of heart)

© Janet Martin

Life's Odyssey

I'm sorta having a life-is-but-a-dream moment picking the last gr.12 grad photos

Sorta like a dream sometimes, these moments turned to fact

Sorta like a clock that chimes Time’s disappearing act

Sorta like a love song strummed on strings of subtlety

Sorta like a mural hung where only thought can see

Sorta like a blur of summer-autumn-winter-spring

Sorta like an upward spark; this strange and one-time Thing

Sorta like a puppy learning lessons more than once

Sorta like a locket, dear, that smiles and tears ensconce

Sorta like a tug-of-war twixt hold and letting go

Sorta like a drink we pour; a mix of wonder-woe

Sorta like a poem pressed on pages of thin air

Sorta like a pilot’s first run, testing wings of prayer

Sorta like a journey on a gurney made of sod

Sorta like a leap of faith; life’s odyssey to God

© Janet Martin

On Learning To Lean

On Friday while I was looking for something to read while the kiddos slept I found this book...

...given to me by a friend for my 50th Birthday,

 then tucked into a must-read pile, then tucked into a bookcase and forgotten...

(or maybe just saved by Someone for a season when its message would be so relevant and fitting) 

Sometimes life re-impacts us with the reality that there are things our love and power
 simply cannot fill or fix
and there are things we simply. cannot. do on our own!

Not in the season of fullness and favour

Not when love’s flavours are sugar intoned

But when the bite of life is sharp and bitter

This keens the hunger where hope’s heart is honed

Not on the hilltop beholding a vista

Stealing our breath with the view all around

But in the climb, in the sweat-blood-tear blister

This bares the crux where trust’s foothold is found

Not in the heaven of sunshine and flower

While we meander without weight of care

But in the brunt of ‘I can’t’s’ darkest hour

This whets the whisper that turns into prayer

Not in the beauty of bounty’s full forces

Not when thought’s field brims with hymns fair and green

But when life drains us of our own resources

This leads us to the Hand that helps us lean

© Janet Martin

Blessed...

' Your house is a little like heaven, I think', said one of the girls to me yesterday

as we tromped across a sparkling-like-diamonds field for a little while-supper-cooks walk...

'always so many children!'

Children certainly have a way of making one take kinder notice of heaven-glimpses!

John 3:27
John replied, "A man can receive only what is given him from heaven.

Blessed beyond measure

With life’s simple pleasure

Of love’s lilting laughter, hugs, kisses and such

Where joy in wee faces

Of life’s smallest ‘graces’

Reminds us to embrace what soon slips from touch

Blessed beyond reason

With season on season

Where time’s ether eons skim over earth’s halls

To tune (for a little)

The leaf that turns brittle

As nature’s green fiddle flares auburn then falls

Blessed beyond telling

Where whispers are felling

Time’s fervor soft-swelling the bud with full-bloom

Before we are startled

By the silver sparkle

That crushes the ardor that brushes the tomb

© Janet Martin 

For this little fellow sometimes frustration trumps fun
because when this chubby-cheeked cherub falls it is almost more
than his mite-y might can muster 

to hoist his snow-suit bundled body back to the upright position. 

...most often he resorts to a loud wail til Grandma comes to the rescue!