On Keeping Our Focus...

 Though life is always full of surprises (many the kind we could do without) 😐

it is SUCH a consolation to know that One wiser and greater has 'got us'

no matter the kerfuffle and 'now what?!'

 Yes, even this late planting season God is in control!

We are poised on the brink of what we hope will be seeds in the soil!

Some cautious blooms are beginning to peek from their bud-beds...

Lord, let nothing fill our heads that fuels pride and vanity

But sink into our hearts instead the wonderment and truth of Thee

Where work and worry of this world will test us to our utter core

And make us realize there is still so much to be thankful for

Whatever we are born to bear since Eden’s sweat and toiling curse

Ought to make us humbly aware, no matter what, it could be worse

Because of Calvary and what was bought and wrought in our place

It wakes in us such awe, to see how blessed we are because of grace

Lord, help us learn to yield and rest our dreams and plans in higher hands

We cannot earn what matters most, then let our boast be Your commands

To guide, protect and keep us pure where it seems holy fear is lost

Your Word infallible and sure will keep secure the ship storm-tossed

Lord, let the prize we fix our eyes upon be something known, not seen

Make us wise to disguises lest we fall prey to deception’s scheme

And let nothing fill our heads that fuels pride and vanity

But sink into our hearts instead the wonderment and truth of Thee

© Janet Martin

Sole/Soul-purpose of Life

May is a month etched in hearts and minds of Nova Scotians who lost loved ones in the

Plymouth Mining Disaster

if life were simply sea and sky

and sod beneath our feet

and hills and dells of low and high

or hard or easy street

if you and I were all there was

without the hope for more

then joy would be a joke because

what would this life be for?

if wake and sleep and work and eat

and struggle to survive

would be the sole goal of this fete

to keep ourselves alive

if sum of what a clock can coax

is all that we could claim

then happiness would a hoax

and life a cruel game

but life is so much more than days

blazing trails to a grave

much more than meted moment-haze 

that we are born to brave

life is a gift from from loving God
a rift that seasons skim
while breath by breath we scale the rod
that draws us back to Him

for we are more than accidents
that fell from who knows where
To try the ways of providence
then fade into thin air
We are the workmanship of He
who sparks each mortal flame
on Wick of Immortality
that none but God can claim


Janet Martin

Come What May or Come Sweet May

While almost mid-May is still waiting to un-shiver, I'm playing with pictures of possibility!

When earth is like a woman swaddled in an emerald shawl

When every tree is like a green-lace half-leaf parasol

When hill and dale begin to stir

In blush-gold-umber-tinted blur

Then we know summer has not lost its laughter after all

When bloom is like a little bird that breaks the brittle shell

And plume unfolds in perfumed pom-poms too lovely to spell

When dawn is like a blushing bride

And dusk is like a rushing tide

Then farmers 'kick' dust far and wide and whistle ‘all is well’

When’ look’ is wild with wishes spilling into flowered fen

When brook is filled with fishes and its banks with fishermen

When Time is like a butterfly

And happiness a big blue sky

Then you and I are glad to be partakers once again

When touch finds dirt beneath its nails because of garden-chores

When Much that we give thanks for is found where Old Winter snores

When we kick off our shoes because

Cold weather is the Thing That Was

Then we become like bees a-buzzing through the great outdoors

When morning rings with nature’s strings tuned by the hand of God

When hope hails orchard-authored hymns and lilac limbs applaud

When faith unfolds a daffodil

Viridian and violet hill

Then heaven fills earth with a thrill that stokes the slumb’ring sod

When we find what we waited for has flung its gates ajar

When every hour is a door and ev’ry flow’r a star

When come-what sweet-May sings like a lark

And wakes the day that breaks the dark

Then we are eager to embark exactly where we are

© Janet Martin

Power Source

When we are weak it bids us seek

Someone to lean upon

For we are all subject to fall

No one can stand alone

And who can bear life’s load of care

Without a faithful friend

And who can be our Surety

When human helpers end

This little life is filled with strife

And disappointment’s hits

We need God's grace to help us face

Whatever He permits

His grace will be enough to see

Us through the darkest vale

Faith’s intercourse, the Power Source

That can and will not fail

For He who probes the petal-globes

And fills Time's transient holds

Is omniscient and sufficient 

For all that it unfolds

© Janet Martin

 But He said to me, 

 “My grace is sufficient for you,

  for My power is 

perfected in weakness.” 

 Therefore I will boast 

all the more gladly 

 in my weaknesses,  

so that the power of Christ 

 may rest on me. 

That is why, 

for the sake of Christ, I delight

 in weaknesses, 

in insults, 

in hardships, 

in persecutions, 

in difficulties. 

For when I am weak, 

then I am strong.

2 Cor.12:9-10

Ah, Motherhood

Happy Belated Mother's Day!

Hectic happiness swooshed yesterday away 

before I had a chance to do a post! 

It's nice to have a day to reflect on family's imperfect 'Happy', isn't it?!

Words of love whether texted, phoned, told face to face or carded are precious treasures

for mothers to tuck away and pull out on a 'rainy' day!

So thankful for my mom!

Ah, Hardest Best that love allots

Of test mingled with joy

Of learning lessons more than once

As She trains girl and boy

Ah, grandest gift that life can give

In spite of constant cares

As motherhood becomes the sieve

Through which she pours her prayers

Where love like none before or hence

(Save God who authors Good)

Will grant such sacred recompense

As humble motherhood/parenthood

Ah, vessel made of flesh and blood

Yet mighty, by God’s grace

Her form must bear the tearing flood

Of birthing human race

There ending and beginning meld

Where earth and heaven meet

As nothing love-borne is withheld

From tiny hands and feet

God, hold her hands as she holds hands

That pull and pull away

Help her where love’s lifelong demands

Teach and teach her to pray

For motherhood is not a game

No fame highlights its goals

Mother is charged with Heaven’s Claim

She cares for living souls

God, bless this Hardest Best of All

Of bitter-sweetest Good

For there is no other such call

Like that of motherhood

© Janet Martin