Redemption's Second Best Hue...

Happy Ascension Day!

Acts 1:9-11

After He had said this, they watched as He was taken up, 

and a cloud hid Him from their sight. 

10They were looking intently into the sky as He was going, 

when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them.

 11“Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky?

 This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, 

will come back in the same way you have seen Him go into heaven.”

Isa.55:12

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; 

the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, 

and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

Celebrating green, among other colors in today's post;

sharing a few shots from an excursion yesterday, with a friend and

kindred spirit, we oohed and aahed and squealed and sighed to our heart's content

at details we didn't need to explain...

Redemption’s flood is red that flowed/flows for all at Calvary

So that we who are/were dead in sin might live eternally

For, all who repent and believe by faith have been made whole

The grace of God through Christ achieves hope’s anchor for the soul

But, for the earth reborn in spring, redemption’s flood is green

A death-defying deluge thundering from founts unseen

A tidal wave of emerald as hallelujahs peal

Through fields and woodlands heralding their Orchestrator’s zeal

Trees clap their hands, grass-cushioned grandstands beckon everyone

The river’s wrinkled sashes twinkle silver in the sun

Tulips in bold profusion bloom, as bud after bud pops

On verdant, velvet banks are strewn pools of forget-me-nots

Fair nature celebrates redemption’s second-best hue; green

Regaling trees with melodies where bare branches had been

Unfettering a plush, lush splurge, surging from east to west

While rabbit hops from bush to bush, a nibble-happy guest/pest

© Janet Martin

The Best Way to Become More Thankful...

Wishing you a day filled with thankfulness-revelations!

James 1:17

Every good and perfect gift is from above,

coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights,

who does not change like shifting shadows.

In light of so much suffering and loss recently,

suddenly potato salad fixings for a belated birthday supper tonight

seem sacred, the ground beneath my feet, holy!

The best way to become more tuned to gifts we else might overlook

Is to have them withheld a bit; how dearer then the thing we took

For granted. How purer the joy we often gave no second glance

Until means we could not control reminded us of gifts God grants

The best way to become more glad and grateful for the gift in hand

Is to suffer the loss of it to gain a better understand-

-ing of love’s meeker thankfulness for gifts we did not recognize

Until God’s higher thoughts and ways took heedless postures by surprise

The best way to become more sympathetic and more humbly kind

Is not from fortune’s pedestals, but in the reeling, hurting grind

Of heartache’s holy ground, where mingled prayers and tears and groans implore

To waken us to gifts that we had not given enough thanks for

© Janet Martin

Someone reminded me of this verse recently...

a treasure to cherish as we trust in the Giver of every good and perfect gift!

Eph.3:20-21

Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably/exceedingly more 

than all we ask or imagine,

 according to His power that is at work within us,

 21to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus

 throughout all generations, forever and ever. 

Amen.

It's May

A montage of glimpses that helped inspire today's poem...

a poem that ended up being an all-day-long doggerel

as lines were snagged between a rather dizzying dash of to-do-ness

Treetop’s translucent flickers wink; its first fanned flame is brief

Soon every bit of blue-sky chink will be filled in with leaf...

At dusk frayed half-leaf shadows sprawl beneath a pastel sky...

And everywhere we look green ambience haloes the land

Unraveled in skein after skein from the Creator’s hand...

Time’s wheel of seasons spins; it’s the beginning of Sweet May

The Belle of Blossoms wins; Old Man Winter is tucked away

Contagious rapture seizes outstretched arms of heart and soul

Hope trembles on warm breezes like a celestial drum roll

Below the hill the winding brook meanders between reeds

It curls its gurgling lay through nooks where the blue heron feeds

And everywhere we look green ambience haloes the land

Unraveled in skein after skein from the Creator’s hand

Treetop’s translucent flickers wink; its first fanned flame is brief

Soon every bit of blue-sky chink will be filled in with leaf

Soon every wooden wick will brim with hymns of nature’s praise

Kindling the giddy glance and glim of glorious summer days

Forget-me-nots dazzle the dell with periwinkle whiff

Regal tulip-chalice compels us to draw near and sniff

To peer deep into petal-souls and be completely awed

At each iconic detail extolling the eye of God

The slope is strewn with sunbeams; yellow dappled luxury

I wonder, was the dandelion post-Eden or pre?

The robin entertains, with earnest tug-for-dinner fight

The grosbeaks and orioles return, to Birdwatcher’s delight

Time’s wheel of seasons spins. It’s May, and the glad gardener cheers

The perky pansy grins, the bleeding heart bursts into tears

The fallow furrow beckons and the chipping sparrow trills

The brooding bloom plot reconciles and smiles in daffodils

The worry-wart forgets to fret, as beauty tames the Beast

As joy, once set before us sets a sumptuous splendor-feast

And worship overflows, in hearts susceptible to bliss

Of blush-blue-green-gold works of art, as earth yields to spring’s kiss

May turns our spirits younger in a bare foot happy-dance

May satisfies the hunger for a soil-and-soul romance

May grants a glimpse of Heaven in earth’s air of welcome hugs

Past garden-woes forgiven; (yes, even potato bugs)

May is a lithesome minstrel, piping luring melodies

May sprinkles blossom tinsel like confetti beneath trees

May makes us feel like royalty in palaces of dirt

And we become more carefree, in spite of life’s shares of hurt

May makes us very merry, imbibed with draughts of fresh air

May wears apple and cherry orchards like boughs/bows in Her hair

May unfolds frilly parasols that money cannot buy

At dusk frayed half-leaf shadows sprawl beneath a pastel sky

The farmer whistles, faith-refueled between fall and spring

Em’rald frond glistens, rain-bejeweled, bees buzz and birds sing

It’s May. Mourning doves bicker in soft-flick’ring filigree

*The frisky calf kicks up its heels, quicker than you or me

© Janet Martin

*the last line is inspired by a calf-chase I engaged in last week,

and a heads up from another neighbor this morning,

to be on the lookout for a frisky, brown calf that out ran its owners!

Here's To Today's Measure of Gladness

Here's to spring rain; it’s drops unchain a well of poem-ink...

Here’s to morn’s feast, mercy-released, that bids us eat and drink

After a beautiful sunrise yesterday it clouded over and

rain, previously forecasted for today, altered my plans;

mowing lawn, weeding and edging.

But, as of now, 

today is sunny 

and I am glad

(because there are weddings happening💖

one in our neighborhood

with an outdoor service planned!)

Today's poem is inspired in part, as I ponder 

the funeral I attended the other day; 

as husband/daddy and children broke 

their eulogy into three categories;

mad, sad and glad.

They each shared a reason they were mad and sad

acknowledging these two very real emotions

that come with loss, especially sudden loss,

but then they focused on glad for the remainder because

there is SO much they are glad aka grateful for!!

Please, keep these dear people in your prayers 

as they begin moving forward without beloved wife/mom.

Here's to today's portion of gladness...

from my vantage point.

From your vantage point details may vary but gratitude

is a universal common ground🙏

Here's to spring rain; it’s drops unchain a well of poem-ink

Here’s to morn’s feast, mercy-released, that bids us eat and drink

From the buffet we call today, by God’s kind grace unfurled

A treasure-trove of hope and love outpoured to all the world

Here’s to a bite of sheer delight, a crumb of happiness

Here’s to the bliss of smile and kiss and laughter’s blessedness

Here’s to the blooms that burst from looms beneath and overhead

Here’s to the joy that shouts ‘ahoy’ after grief’s tears are shed

Here’s to the sad, that makes the glad much gladder than before

Here’s to He who makes all things new and who all should adore

Here’s to the cup that we hold up; faith’s chipped and scarred affair

Mementos earned through lessons learned, turned into humbler prayer

Here’s to ‘hello’ and yellow daffodils; here’s to sweet May

Here’s to the limbs that throb with hymns of green and feathered lay

Here’s to the splurge of leaves and birds to cheer us where we are

To boughs festooned with blossoms spooned from nature’s perfume jar

Here’s to the child, pure, undefiled, wide-eyed and curious

Here’s to we who teach them to be true and industrious

To revere He who cares for we, instilled with deathless soul

Here’s to God’s Word; truth undeterred as ages wage and roll

Here’s to the earth in spring as birth wakens the slumb’ring sod

Here’s to the sky that you and I oft gaze on, dumbly awed

Here’s to the sea that sweeps the lea yet by the shoreline stayed

Here’s to each voice as we rejoice in this day God has made

Here’s to ‘us’, dear, the now and here that slip-slips through our touch 

Here’s to (un)common wealth of health and happiness and such

Here’s to the kings of simple things that never lose their thrill

As seasons run beneath the sun in ink that poet’s spill

Here's to each 'glad' to counter sadness with meek gratitude

Here's to the cares that mortal bears by God's mercies renewed

His Word assures, His grace secures the final curtain-close  

Here's to God's love, the treasure trove from whence all blessing flows

© Janet Martin

Aren't you glad

because of salvation's plan

when we believe and receive

the gift of the promise 

there is no futility in life

and no fear in death.

Thank-you, dear Heavenly Father

Here’s to the blooms that burst from looms 

beneath ...

and overhead...

Here’s to the sky that you and I oft gaze on, dumbly awed...

Here’s to the child, pure, undefiled, wide-eyed and curious...

Here's to a bite of sheer delight...

Here’s to the splurge of leaves and birds...

This is the day the Lord has made.

We will rejoice and be glad in it!

Psalm 118:24