August Friday Thoughts

May I never be the reason

My children cannot see

Jesus; because they are unable

To see Him shining through me

***

Abide with me

I cannot see

Without Thy faithful Light

Each step I take

Is no mistake

If I walk in Thy might

Abide with me

The enemy

Seeks souls doubting and weak

Faith’s mustard seed

Is all I need

To reach the mountain’s peak

***

Dare to be different

Do not count the cost

Lest we drift in a crowd

That is blind, base and lost

Dare to be different

Like Daniel of old

Lest we reach the Judgment

With only fool’s gold

***

Train up a child

In the way he should go

It’s much harder to train

An adult, you know

***

Before your thought

Spills into a word

Make sure its lot

Is fit to be heard

***

Why standest thou jealously gazing

Into thy neighbor’s field?

Take heed, thou slothful servant

Lest envy taints thy yield

***

If we rejoice when they rejoice

And weep when they must weep

Then we will be the kind of friend

Our friends desire to keep

***

Farther along on this journey of life

We cannot know what a-waits

But this; beyond love’s tender strife

Gleam Heaven’s shining gates

***

Deeper than the stains of sin

Flows love’s amazing grace

Hallelujah, what a Savior

Suffered in our place

***

 The earthly rags

Of love’s humility

Are leading

To the riches of

A heavenly garment

Janet Martin~

 Let us not become weary in doing good, 

for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

Gal. 6:9

August's Farewell Song

August plays its farewell lay

In chords of minor key

It ripples in the willow-sway

A wistful melody

August plays its parting hymn

In golden-petal tears

As summer’s strain begins to dim

Before it disappears

August plays its farewell song

A dusty-sweet caress

In notes wrought by the cricket-throng

And vesper-spangled tress

August plays its farewell tune

In sultry-somber sigh

It drifts across the languid noon

In preludes to good-bye

© Janet Martin

On this summer's final August week-end, can you hear it?

A Little Child Shall Lead Them

They smooth away the furrow on the brow

With carefree chatter as they dream and smile

There’s something ‘bout a little girl or boy

That makes the journey here worth every mile

Unburdened by the weight of things unseen

Untroubled by worry and its great waste

Undaunted, they splash in life’s moment-stream

Unaware of its relentless haste

There’s something ‘bout a little boy or girl

And as their laughter drifts upon the hours

An elixir of divine wonderment

Fills the air with butterflies and flowers

‘Unless our faith becomes as one of these’

We cannot enter into Heaven’s joy

‘A little child shall lead them’ Jesus, please

Teach to trust you as a little girl or boy

© Janet Martin

She has no idea how often she teaches me...

I'm sure God smiles, as we hold a new baby

wondering how we are going to teach them...

It felt  like a literal 'miles of dishes' last night
and nobody home but Victoria, who never uttered one
word of complaint, but simply 'did what needed to be done'
Suddenly I was not quite so weary anymore

 

Vision

If we would catch one fleeting glimpse of Him

Nothing but the shadow of His glory and His might

We would bend harder to the humble task at hand

And seek more earnestly His given command

We would loathe the wrong and love the right

If we would catch but one fleeting glimpse of Him

If we would see Him walking across the field

With the Reaper’s sickle in His out-stretched reach

We would bow, forsaking all fickle earthly ties

Trembling beneath the gaze of loving, holy eyes

We would run to seek His law to teach

If we would see Him walking across the field

If we would see the table in Heaven’s Banquet Hall

We would not desire the secret crumbs we crave

But eat the Bread and drink the Cup of His suffering

Knowing that all earthly loss is heaven’s rejoicing

And we would not fear a cold and lonely grave

If we could see the table in Heaven’s Banquet Hall

If we, for one brief twinkle of the eye

Could behold but a fleeting glimpse of Him

The measure of this world could never begin to hold

Anything more desirable than Him in silver or gold

Its lure would instantaneously grow feeble and dim

If we could behold but one fleeting glimpse of Him

© Janet Martin

  Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter:

Fear God and keep His commandments,
For this is man’s all.

For God will bring every work into judgment,
Including every secret thing,
Whether good or evil. 

Eccles. 12:13-14

Peaches on my Mind

Like the nectar of peach

Let it run from my chin

A smile on my taste buds

Sweet satisfaction

May I savor each morsel

And not waste one drip

Of this beautiful moment

On my fingertip

***

 Peach-coral dawn climbs into the blue

Mist-laden valleys don a silver-pink hue

Breath-taking mercy swings wide morning’s gate

Lessons of faith and forgiveness a-wait

Trust in the Lord, His love does not fail

Soon the dark night will again draw its veil

And dusk will descend in a peach-coral sea

One day nearer to eternity

***

I’m thinking the fruit

That hung within Eve’s reach

To tempt her so

Was a sun-warmed peach

***

 Soon the peach sweetness of summer will fade

I sense a dusky-blue gaze

Whispering in the willow-wind shade

Lingering in deep, late-day haze

Hints of departure rush to the shore

Of late summer’s less crowded beach

I sense the creaking of a door

Still somewhere beyond our reach

Summer will last a few hours more

I savor another peach

© Janet Martin

Yesterday was 'beach day'...
Today it is 'peach day'!
Tomorrow...who knows, but One!

Being Us

It is not easy

Being us

The drum we hear

Though oft perceived

Is more often misunderstood

Yet we are drawn

Not of ourselves

To the path of its beat

And I ask only this

God, guide our feet

It’s not easy

Being us

We battle

Not so much with others

As with ourselves

Born as shy soloists

Struggling to harmonize

And join the melody

Of God’s

Beautiful choir

It’s not easy

Being us

My dearest daughter

A mother cannot always choose

What her child receives

So just  continue being 'beautiful you'…and sing

Returning to the Giver

The gifts He allows

Humbly, from us

To Him

© Janet Martin

Happy 18^th Birthday, Melissa 

Love, Mom

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways submit to Him and He will make your paths straight. Prov. 3:5-6

Sonnet of Farewell

The aching twist of ‘knowing’ hovers low

Against the languid mellow yellow day

Over the hill a breath of moments flow

Stealing another gasp of life away

Bloom by falling bloom the moments pass

One lonely cricket serenades the hour

As August surges swiftly through its glass

Laden with tears of summer’s faded flow’r

I shed my own; Time’s unrelenting pace

Plucks summer’s thinning shroud from my embrace

***

The solo cricket-lay is amplified

Into the hush its chirping cantos swell   

Filling the shadow-lengthened countryside

With affirmation of summer’s farewell

Where latent hints of gold and scarlet brood

Beneath the placid flush of sighing green

Too soon the gale will howl through rustling wood

Stripping the petal-garb from nature’s queen

I too feel stripped: Time is a brute uncouth

It snatches up the remnant of my youth

***

Breath by breath and tick by ticking tock

The fullest hour shrinks and disappears

The rigid order of Time’s austere clock

Expands its swift demise to days and years

The goldenrod replaces daffodil

But soon it drops its gaudy, burnished plume

Surrendering to autumn’s painted chill

Thus seasons file across earth’s living-room

I too surrender; pleading with Time is vain

And if it wills, summer will come again

© Janet Martin

Thoughts and sounds of the day and evening...

Of Other Loves

Sometimes when I try to hate you

Up to my elbows in duty

You overtake me completely

By your innocent beauty

Sometimes, when I try to ignore you

And wipe away your taunt

You stroll before my firm employ

 Languid, nonchalant

Sometimes, when our eyes meet

And you fill every thought

I still pretend that I don’t care

Neither one tittle nor jot

But then, oh then sometimes I know

It is no use to fight

Ah pen, poetry, I love you so

…and I write

and I write

and I write

© Janet Martin