Oh, Fleeting This!

 Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. 

What is your life? 

You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

James 4:14

Brothers, as an example of patience in affliction, 

take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.

 See how blessed we consider those who have persevered. 

You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen the outcome from the Lord. 

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy. 

James 5:10-11 

Today's reflection is inspired in part by the book of James

and this morning's Daily Bread Devotion

Oh, fleeting This; how much we miss

If we are deaf and numb and blind

To He who lends what slips and wends

From mercy’s Hands to humankind

What wasted leap of wake and sleep

If we have tasted wonder’s bliss

With heart-doors barred, stone-cold and hard

Primed with a sword and traitor’s kiss

Man’s days and years like mist appears

Its measure beyond our control

What awful dread accosts the dead

Who disregard the Deathless Soul

What empty noise composes joys

Reliant on frail circumstance

What futile plain of grief and pain

If we scorn God and cling to chance

Oh fleeting This; how much we miss

Before full horror meets its mark

As love and grace withdraws its Face

And Light gives way to endless Dark

Dearly beloved, each life approved

By He who grants its sacred lease

Pray we revere Time’s fleeting Here

Before hope's day of grace will cease

© Janet Martin

When You Cross My Heart...

 What a show in the east as the sun set in the west!

 If I could I would give those barns a nudge on an evening like this!

Oh, when you cross my heart

A tug as old as time

Twists common colours into art

Like lyrics into rhyme

Or petals falling where

The flower-garden was

Or whispers that turn into prayer

Or pastel pink of dusk

Tossed on earth’s eastern brim

As on the westward fell

The eventide flames with a hymn

That word can never spell

And something like a tear

Slips into sacred art

That feels somewhat the same, my dear

As when you cross my heart

© Janet Martin

Poem-tug

 My sister dubbed this pic a wordless poem...and it is!

But something still tugged to be written!

Some simply see a field

Winter-bronzed grass,

A tree

Some hear a poem

Rushing like

A wave-song symphony

Some sense a tender tug

As nature’s

Violin

Spills ancient stanzas

Lilt by lilt

Across earth’s weathered skin

Some see a silent stage

In one

Unfeeling glance

Some feel the tug

Of ink

And page

Inviting them to dance

© Janet Martin

So God Made Little Boys...

I absolutely love listening to our just-turned three-year-old grandson

 belting out 'I waise a hawewoowah'

Dear Grand-sonny, we love all of what makes you...you!

 Pictures are worth a thousand words

Photo credit to c.poot photography

What a happy birthday supper we had😊

Auntie Tor, Daddy and Grandma were present as well...just somehow missed the camera)

He knew we needed exercise

And good reasons to pray

An endless stream of chatter

And the melody of play

Reminders of pure innocence

Sweet naughtiness and noise

To keep us not quite so uptight

So God made little boys

He knew sometimes we would need more

Than words can quite explain

Like splashing through lake- puddles

In or after the rain

Like learning to think bigger

By studying smaller joys

Like digging in the garden-dirt

So God made little boys

He knew we would find freedom

In the teeny ties that bind

Our hearts as chubby fingers tug

Us from chores left behind

For worlds of bugs, slugs, ants and bees

Better than heaps of toys

As we learn on our hands and knees

So He made little boys

…to keep our conscience keener

And our common care more sweet

To make our pastures greener

As we both follow and lead

To make love’s gladness purer

In the sieve of simple joys

God knew we would need laughter

So He made little boys

© Janet Martin

Sometimes Our Grip Slips...

 Rest in God alone, O my soul, for my hope comes from Him.

 He alone is my rock and my salvation; 

He is my fortress, I will not be shaken. 

 My salvation and my honor rest on God, 

my strong rock; my refuge is in God.…

Psalm 62:5-7

' Cling to the rock of salvation' I offered as words of consolation to a grieving friend.

'I do', she replied, 'but sometimes my grip slips!'

Oh, can we not all sympathize with that one?!

Some hymns of encouragement...

 

Yes, sometimes our grip slips

No matter how we cling

And all that we can do is trust

The refuge of His wing

Yes, sometimes our grip slips

And all that we can do

Is let go and trust He who knows

The whole, to see us through

Yes, sometimes our grip slips

We are not strong enough

So we let go and freefall into

Everlasting love

© Janet Martin

 He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge;

 his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

Psalm 91:4