Precious (Un)Commonplace

There is nothing like sorrow for those who are suffering

to make one more aware of the spectacular beauty/grandeur of what we might dare

to call Ordinary or Commonplace!! 

Canvases of what at first glance may appear quite 'commonplace'

Are like gifts  from an Artist who entitles each print 'grace'...

These are  not simply chores.

They are gifts of grace.

This is not simply dinner. It is a gift of grace 

(esp. when there is someone to share it with!!)

In light of loss and disappointment, Commonplace confounds

Life is beheld through meeker eyes; Ordinary astounds

Where beauty knows no bounds; the earth and its fulness thereof

Compelling us to pay more kind and tender heed to love

In light of love misunderstood, love buffers bitter blows

And though the glove is pierced with thorns, the stem is crowned with rose

Whose beauty grows more fair-of-face as we begin to see

In Commonplace, sweet grace and mercy’s grand epitome

In light of dreams-never-come-true we view through thankful(er) sighs

The ground beneath our feet rife with extravagance to prize

Of hands to hold and tots to kiss, of gifted day-to-day

No Ordinariness is This which steals our breath/life away

In light of what we cannot keep, commonplace strikes a chord

That stirs a sweeping melody from deeps bereft of word

To make us gape at what we would take for granted somehow

But in the light of loss and such we touch and taste with ‘wow’!

© Janet Martin

Prepping for a few Valentine festivities with tots tomorrow...

                                              

A Precious 'Pressing' Presence

'prayerfully pressing into His presence.' 

is the final phrase in today's Daily Bread Devotion.

Oh, what would we do without this refuge?! 

When all else fails, never God. 

No matter what may seem...

Ps.31:19

How great is Your goodness,

Which You have stored up for those who fear You,

Which You have wrought for those who take refuge in You,

Before the sons of men!

He gives sufficient grace where Unknown’s tempest rolls

He tests the treasures we embrace as we pour our souls

Goodness and mercy’s trove no trial can expend

Nor drain the storehouses of love no thought can comprehend

He teaches us to trust only as all else fails

He reaches through our rue of dust to hoist hope’s weathered sails

His promises endure to comfort mortal care

He keeps faith’s falt’ring bark secure as we press into prayer

…where God’s presence defends faith’s groaning cruciform

As peace, not of this world transcends the substance of the storm

Where no power on earth can begin to compare

To the inimitable worth of full surrender’s prayer

© Janet Martin

Beautiful post on Barnstorming Blog today about prayer!!

In Christ Alone

Until We Kiss The Hands That Hold Us...

Evil in its lowest forms of hatred for God,

in shameless applause for sin!

Disasters that destroy and wreak unfathomable havoc and grief

oh God! We cry and You hear!

Psalm 18:6

In my distress I called to the LORD; I cried to my God for help.

 From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears.

David's new release feels like perfect timing

Our thoughts and prayers are with many suffering, 

esp. those in the earthquake aftermath

in Turkey and Syria

Great Are You, Lord

Some hurts would be too hard to bear without God’s hand to hold

Life, but a valley of despair where tragedies unfold

Hope, a hollow oblation in the station of the mind

Seeking sweet consolation, it can never fully find

Some hills would be too hard to climb without God’s hand to clasp

His word transcends the march of time; His goodness is steadfast

Where, like an outstretched Hand God’s word will undergird and still

The heart-storm when we do not understand love’s perfect will

Some crosses would feel merciless, without God’s Hand to trust

Without unfailing promises to cheer our weary dust

To comfort us because we know He never leads astray

But for faith’s benefit will show the error of our way

Some sorrows would seem hard, too hard without…ah, look and see

Behold his hands, how they are scarred because of Calvary

He suffered in our stead to break the curse of sin so man

May undeservedly partake of pardon’s perfect plan

Some wonder is too much to spell with lowly ink of thought

As we bow where love’s blood-drops fell and death’s triumph was wrought

Where redemption enfolds us and hope anchors us until

We kiss the hands that hold us in love’s pure and perfect will

© Janet Martin

Where Soon The Barren Tree Will Sing

The idea of this poem started the other day

while soaking up some much-coveted rare sunshine...

Soon, soon the barren tree will burst and be barren no more...

Soon gardens, fantasy-immersed will brim with hymn and chore...

Soon backdrops white, like canvases showcasing stencil-art

Will roll like emerald oceans to where earth and heavens part...

And living rooms will spill to patios and balconies...

As words like ‘b-r-r-r’ and ‘with-wind-chill’ will turn to memories...

Soon finches will wear gold again instead of dull chartreuse...

(It seems for every snow-storm we get this winter

a mild spell follows to keep the drifts from getting too massive,

and constantly teasing us with thoughts of spring)

Soon, soon the barren tree will burst and be barren no more

Soon gardens, fantasy-immersed will brim with hymn and chore

Soon backdrops white, like canvases showcasing stencil-art

Will roll like emerald oceans to where earth and heavens part

And living rooms will spill to patios and balconies

As words like ‘b-r-r-r’ and ‘with-wind-chill’ will turn to memories

Soon finches will wear gold again instead of dull chartreuse

And though we will be older then, we will feel more footloose

After we trade our parkas for the longed-for luxury

Of soaking in the sunshine or in shade beneath a tree

As daffodils with yellow, ruffled frills spilling spring’s mirth

A-dapple hills and dells from legacies held in the earth

Soon indoor tasks will wrangle with flasks welkin, zephyr-kissed

And set at odds the law and order of the to-do list

And winter will slip from its perch with every drip and drop

Where now we slip and slide and lurch and honk and hope we stop

Where now we sip slow cups of java and traverse the world

On parchment schooners, into sagas, page by page unfurled

Soon the gray-drenched duvet that drapes dusk’s dormant countryside

Will flush into a blossom-blushing dew-brushed eventide

And we will pause, perhaps, to marvel at how swift time flies

Through winter, now a sparkle on the landscape of spent sighs

...where hues that brood in wait for spring have rent bud-gates to soar

And stir the barren tree to sing and be barren no more

© Janet Martin

Soon winter will fly away like a blue jay

with beak full of peanut😂

Soon the gray-drenched duvet that drapes dusk’s dormant countryside

Will flush into a blossom-blushing dew-brushed eventide...

Uncaging Oceans (or, Waiting on a Poem)

Let it steal your breath

Let it stir your soul

Let it sweep in sweet surprise

Like oceans that roll

Through shorelines of skin

Where no one can see

Glimmers glance and dance and spin

Into poetry

Let it lilt and waft

Soft as falling snow

Let it be a fist-a-cuff

Hold it, let it go

Let it beg and brood

Stubborn as can be

Until it beckons thought-blood

Into poetry

Let it lure and wink

Let it grip despair

With a tender twist of ink/think

Transform it to prayer

Let it take the lead

Do not rush its sea

Until caged oceans are freed

Into poetry

Let it wash the room

With a brush of sighs

Darling, none can haste the bloom

Till the bud complies

Till whispers withheld 

Yield their mystery

And the murmur of waves meld

Into poetry

Let it test the vest

Of faith's fortitude

Let it storm the mortal breast

Wild and unsubdued

Let it crash and burn

Suffer patiently

Sometimes dust and ash will turn

Into poetry

Let it scale the sky

Dangle from the moon

Tremble like a butterfly

Freed from its cocoon

Let it vex the vim

Of hope, poised to be

A shimmer of stars that brim

Into poetry

Let it move the earth

Though nobody hears

A poem is its own worth

Without thunderous cheers 

 Fan to flame its spark

Gentle as can be 

Until it bursts through dark

Into poetry

© Janet Martin

Lord, When I Think About Your Love or Awed Impetus

How Great Thou Art 

 

And Can It Be?

Lord, when I think about Your love

And what it bid of You

May it revive awed impetus

To be faithful and true

Thou, King of kings and Lord of lords

Author of earth and sky

Led like a lamb ‘neath slaughter’s swords

On a cross lifted high

Lord, when I think about Your Son

Who died so I could live

Who, during His crucifixion

Cried out, ‘Father, forgive’

I pray that Your love would pour through

My redeemed edifice

To amaze, humble and renew

Devotion’s impetus

Lord, when I think about Your love

The Lamb that took my place

I cannot comprehend the trove

The spills grace upon grace

Or the breadth of Thy treasury

From which mercies abound

To satisfy each earthly plea

With purpose heaven-crowned

Lord, when I think about your love

Words fail to intercede

Redemption’s ‘Infinite Enough’

Supplies infinite need

Where blood drenched altars made of stone

Could never satisfy

What only Christ’s blood could atone

The sins of you and I

Lord, when I think about the breath

That rent the temple's veil

And broke the curse that authored death

All other wonders pale

The love that frees, and bought for us

Not punishment, but Prize

The blood of Jesus wrought for us

The right to Paradise

Lord, when I think of who You sent

Spite’s sword falls from my hand

Redemption seals a covenant

I cannot understand

You gave Your Son to take my place

Though You know me full well

Still, I receive grace upon grace

Instead of death and hell

© Janet Martin

John 1:16-17

From His fullness we have all received grace upon grace.

 17For the law was given through Moses;

 grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 

A Sweet Endeavor

However God has gifted each of us, may our desire be to

use the gift to bring before Him an offering of praise;

 'a sweet aroma to the Lord!'

a phrase repeated over and over into today's scripture reading...

...a sweet aroma to the Lord

Lev. 1:9,13,17, Lev.2:2, Lev.3:5,16

(as sweet as two little girls having a tea-party💖)

This flight that fuels greeting and farewell will soon adjourn

The sightlines of Today soon snuffed as Time is borne away

Then in the light of this, as we weather life’s twist and turn

May we yearn all the more to trust the Giver of today

Whose mercy, new each morning is sufficient, come what may

This age of lawlessness abounding and love growing cold

Rouses in some a solemn sense of Matthew twenty-four

Earth’s stage is set for prophecy’s fulfillment to unfold

The wage awaiting one and all is pounding on a door

Like storm-charged surf resounding as it seethes against time’s shore

This beckoning-before-The-Reckoning, kindles dawn’s flare

Where deception and rejection thrive like a vile disease

As promotions of ignorance, like oceans of despair

Roll over sin-seared consciences with terrifying ease

As if each moment does not groan with God’s atoning pleas

This gift, this gracious gift granted by God’s grace, kind and good

And truth that does not shift and love no knowledge can explain

Is worth the whys and wherefores of mercy misunderstood

God’s word assures believers that our faith is not in vain

(though not all who say ‘Lord, Lord’ will Heaven’s reward attain)

…but those who do the will of God, who trust Him and obey

Whose offering of praise is a sweet-smelling sacrifice

Though scoffers scoff, fooled by the serpent’s ‘did God really say?’

And blinded to love’s Offering that paid the sinner’s price

High minded and unholy in thinking darkened by vice

Oho, this flight that fuels greeting and farewell is swift

Its sightlines tune a volatile vista of numbered days

Thus, in the light of this may we embrace its fleeting gift

And never handle thoughtlessly that which ought to amaze

And fill every endeavor with sweet offerings of praise

© Janet Martin

tea-party cleanup!

Witness in the Making

The funeral service my husband and I attended today 

was closed with this sacred text from

the final words in the Holy Bible;

Rev.22:12-17&21

12 “Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, 

and I will give to each person according to what they have done.

 13 I am the Alpha and the Omega, 

the First and the Last, 

the Beginning and the End.

14 “Blessed are those who wash their robes, 

that they may have the right to the tree of life 

and may go through the gates into the city. 

15 Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, 

the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters 

and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.

16 “I, Jesus, have sent my angel to give you[a] this testimony for the churches. 

I am the Root and the Offspring of David, 

and the bright Morning Star.”

17 The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” 

And let the one who hears say, “Come!” 

Let the one who is thirsty come; 

and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life...

21 The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. 

Amen.

What will be said of you and I when we are laid to rest

Oh, what will be the legacy that transcends mortal goals

After we cease the evidence of what we now love best

When the reward of Recompense its sacred summons tolls

What are we doing to prepare for what waits one and all

Nobody knows how near or far we are to earth’s farewell

Thus, this sojourn is no eat-drink-be-merry festival

It is the holy prelude to either Heaven or hell

Where what and who we love most consumes thought’s most earnest quest

As thought’s most earnest quest turns into choice and consequence

And writes what will fill memories as we are laid to rest

And only God can break the seal that reveals Recompense

What will be said of you and I when death collects its due

Depends on here and now and how we use life’s little lease

Oh, pray that what will be remembered most of me and you

Is our love for God portrayed in love, hope, joy and peace

When we face what we all will face but once forevermore

What will God say when you and I step from this transient shell

When we witness the evidence of what we most adored

Will the reward be Heaven's joy or agony of hell?

© Janet Martin

Between Here and Sunset