On Being the Oldest Brother...

When you’re the biggest brother

Other brothers follow you

And they repeat the things I say

And do the things I do

To be the biggest brother

Is a very special thing

But it is also serious

With brothers following

Then I must be so careful

With this responsibility

Because my other brothers

Are always watching me

© Janet Martin

A Mother-prayer for the Hands She holds

Oh, let me never be the one

To lead your little hands to wrong

…you trust me to guide you right

Hold you, hug you warm and tight

You watch my hands clap and praise

Lift you, teach you in life’s ways

Oh God, let it never be

That you should learn wrong from me

Hold my hand then, God I pray

For if you will lead the way

Then these small hands are secure

Led not by my hands, but yours

© Janet Martin

Grace...God's Gift on that First Christmas Day

By grace are we saved, through faith

Not what we do or say

God’s grace, a gift He sent to us

On that first Christmas Day

On that first Christmas Day

The skies were filled with praise

‘Behold, I bring you tidings of

Great joy; Jesus, God’s grace’

Jesus, God’s gift of grace

Is still the same today

To all who will trust and believe

He saves; oh, praise his name

He saves; oh, praise His name

Not what we do or say

But by the grace of mercy’s gift

On that first Christmas Day

© Janet Martin

In True Humility...

Then let our light so shine

So that all men may see

And glorify the God of love

In true humility

Then let our motive be

In everything we do

To let love’s true humility

Shine through and through and through

For all that we might be

‘tis only be God’s grace

That we find true humility

And thereby glimpse his face

The utterance of ‘I’

Is oft selfish and weak

But if we would let God’s love shine

Then we must ever seek

…with true humility

From gracious God above

The will to find the way to shine

His everlasting love

© Janet Martin

Inspired by the poem below by Emily Dickinson...

Part Three: Love

VIII

THAT I did always love,
I bring thee proof:
That till I loved
I did not love enough.
That I shall love alway,	5
I offer thee
That love is life,
And life hath immortality.
This, dost thou doubt, sweet?
Then have I	10
Nothing to show
But Calvary.

When It Rains...

  

It rained, little guy slept long, I wrapped gifts, did housework and watched/listened to this movie...so good!

When it rains its gray tinsel unchains

Rivers of rushing refrain

Stripped treetops lie, not against the sky

But in puddles on the lane

Its madrigal weeps from echo-laden deeps

And rouses soul-poetry

For the pen is a Muse filled with yesterday’s blues

Stirred by the air’s broken sea

When it rains thought roves a terrain

That nobody else can see

It opens a door through which mind-pictures pour

Painted on memory

And there on its street pool thought-years bittersweet

Drenching both faces and sod

Rending the heart with love’s mosaic art

Spilling in patterns from God

When it rains earth accepts heaven’s strains

As if they were azure –gold hymns

The trees on the lane never balk or complain

But stretch wide their four-season limbs

Embracing the song as it drips, low and long

Oh, could it be that they know

when this song dies and slips soft from the skies

The sun will be sweeter somehow?

© Janet Martin

'they' are forecasting gray songs until at least Friday...