Wednesday, August 21, 2013

What Are We Living For?




  

A baby cries; somebody dies
Somewhere a son goes off to war
Time ebbs and flows in highs and lows
Tell me, what are we living for?

Snow angels, roses, butterflies
Sickness and sorrow, anguish, pain
A son for which a mother cries
Because he won’t come home again

Laughter and song fade in mid-air
Love, loss and longing mingle wild
We see a young girl with no hair
And innocence torn from a child

The brush falls from a painter’s hand
Oh Lord, our God, we weep and call
By faith we press against the wind
Toward the One who sees it all

As babies die and loved ones cry
The clay turns in the Potter's love
Shaping us to the Reason why
As we press to His arms above

© Janet Martin

 So much pain and sorrow in this world; all would be hopeless without Jesus.

 John 16:33 - These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.


Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Of History and Footprints~



 By dusk the day's traces were washed from the beach...

They come and then they go
Like footprints in the sand or snow
But still they guide us faithfully
By what we learn through history

To stop our eyes and ears
Against life’s past or future fears
Is to repeat oft, hopelessly
Those lessons taught in history

Soon Time will wash away
The visible steps of today
Yet, we are wise to pause and see
Their lessons sealed in history

© Janet Martin

“Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it.”
Edmund Burke

Just read Heb. 11. Feeling discouraged? What great testimonies of faith and endurance we are reminded of in this chapter!

 Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, Heb. 12:1

Blessed Assurance 
 words by Fanny J. Crosby


Monday, August 19, 2013

Life





The days of wheat and corn adorn
The haze of early August morn
In praises, ere its sheaf is shorn
By Time’s swift, willing hands
The farmer gleans its harvest-gold
And summer leans to autumn’s hold
While moment-skeins unfold, unfold
A subtle, steady strand

The sun and moon their courses tread
The azure noon succumbs to red
As gentle vesper-tunes embed
This day into the past
The flower grins then falls away
The sinner sins but then we pray
And grace begins another day
Toward our ever-last

The scroll on which our past is writ
A toll of living’s wit and grit
Cannot contain the whole of it
A greater Day a-waits
Man’s life is like a field of grass
This strife is but the darkened glass
Through which the scythe of grief must pass
Leading to Heaven’s gates

© Janet Martin




Of Waves and Second Chances





No spent waves tune morning’s gladness
From the Hand of all things new
Comes a morning drenched with mercy
Sweet with kiss of heaven’s dew

Hope expands beneath the tresses
Where, since Eden’s paradise
Light, with ever-faithful graces
Rends the dark with morning skies

Here we laugh and weep and wonder
Dare to dream the dreaming dream
While the bloom falls from the poppy
Scarlet whispers on life’s stream

Still, we press toward a portal
Past the lintel of the sky
Where mortal becomes immortal
In the twinkling of an eye

We are not adrift on oceans
Of spent waves and happenstance
Morning rends the dark with dawning
And the gift of second chance

© Janet Martin

The other day I read a quote that has stayed stuck in my mind…It is not too late to become who you dreamed you would be.


Press on, my friends. God’s grace is new every morning.

Also, please let us pray for those suffering in Egypt. Prayer changes things!




  But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved),  and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus,  that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.  For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God,  not of works, lest anyone should boast.  For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them. Eph. 2: 4-10

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Of Memories



Tomorrow, today will be a memory. Let's make it a good one!

We cherish our own, each precious and dear
Be they ever so humble how we hold them near
Echoes of living where only thought sees
This is the treasure of memories

Pictures of spring where carefree children dance
Pictures of summer, roses and romance
Pictures of autumn; stunning middle-age
Before winter’s silver-swift turning of page

Softly the sifting of sands coalesce
Brimming with love’s bittersweet tenderness
Oh, how the moment at hand quickly flees
Joining our collage of memories

Nothing on earth can their measure replace
These are love’s offerings of trial and grace
Picture by picture fills thought’s galleries
Time-tempered walk-way of life-memories

© Janet Martin

Mother of the Bride




Oh, do not look too closely
How her filament of youth
Has drifted to the pastures
Where its prey denies that truth
And do not look too closely
Lest her smile of brave disguise
Tells of sorrow in her gladness
As you look into her eyes

Oh, do not look too deeply
She is strong but not too much
You would be her sure undoing
Troubadour of tender touch
Oh, and do not whisper softly
Joy and grief align, you know
As she recalls another bride
A few swift years ago

Oh, do not look too closely
Joy and mourning coalesce
But she wears its meek adorning
With a smile of happiness
For she too was once a dreamer
Now an ocean breaks inside
As they turn to see her daughter
To the tune ‘here comes the bride’

© Janet Martin

Beginning that mental preparation:) 




Saturday, August 17, 2013

August Poem





Heaven on earth is Augusts’ afternoon
Of cricket seraphim; sun-flower swoon
Of parched meadows primed for the draught of dusk-dew
Of harvest sprawled gold beneath dust-denim blue

August is heaven spilled gently to earth
Where hollows are brimming with wild-flower mirth
Where drifts our care; silver flecks in the sun
We count summer’s blessing slowly, one by one

August is heaven in rippling sweet-heat
Cajoling the highways and tickling bare feet
It graces the garden where mother and child
Gather the harvest as memories grow wild

August requiem, you murmur in the stream
You sigh in the willow and cry in my dream
I could not measure your peach-pungent worth
Beautiful pleasure of heaven on earth

© Janet Martin

Of Forevermore





Oh mystery, no one can see
Beyond earth’s threshold or Time’s door
Nor where this brief mortality
Will fade into forevermore
No one can tell how near or far
The road extends before That Call
But this we know; this little life
Leads to the Meaning of it all

Beyond earth’s threshold and its end
Begins this thing that we strive for
Mere mind can never comprehend
Infinity’s forevermore
Oh mystery; Eternity
No one can tell its depth or height
Its span of immortality
Perplexes our mortal sight

No straining of thought’s fantasy
Can form an image to portray
The rise and fall of timelessness
When flesh and blood will fall away
But this we know; none can return
When they have passed through that last door
To tell what joy or grief a-waits
In that timeless forevermore

© Janet Martin



It began with a box of empty baby-food jars, this conversation with Matt, our 15 yr. old son. ‘Where did they come from?’ he wondered. 'I think they were an add-on at a yard sale purchase and they ended up in our garage', I said. 
'Wouldn’t it have been easier to re-cycle?' he asked. 
 Then we began discussing the religious fervency with which some people recycle and why. We agreed that we want to take care of God’s earth, to be faithful stewards and we should do all we can, but we know this earth is destined to end. It will end and we thought, wouldn’t it be great if everyone were as zealous in preparation for Jesus and  forevermore. This life is but a Door to what existence is all about! and my heart burned with desire that everyone may know of The Way, the Truth and the Life before it is forever too late.

Then I thought of this parable;

The Rich Man and Lazarus

 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day.  At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
 “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried.  In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’
 “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony.  And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’
 “He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’
 “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’
‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
 “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ Luke 16: 19-31