Does My Life Really Matter?

When the snow blows cold over my grave-stone

And time has long forgotten me

When the life I live is the dust of bones

And my name, not even a memory

Tell me, precious person, oh, tell me true

Does life really matter or what I do?

When the clatter of moment-matter stills

Enshrouded in Past’s endless pall

When season-to-season-to-season spills

Without one thought of me at all

Tell me, will it really matter a bit

This life I live and what I do with it?

What is the meaning and worth of my life?

This pull and push of plow and pen

This little pittance of pleasure and strife

When I die, will it matter then? 

After the laughter and sorrow of years

Will life really matter when time disappears?

When the world is a-whirl with years to come

And I, a faceless name perhaps

On somebody’s family-tree, the sum

Of cares that filled prayers, arms and laps

Will it matter a mite, this flight on sod?

...this rite of passage that leads back to God

Here, where it is certain that Time forgets

The once-upon-a-him-or-her

As its warm wind shimmers from east to west

Over this place where milestones were

Will it really matter, this vapor-cajole?

Oh yes, because life is a matter of soul

© Janet Martin

Not so much The What as For Who?

God never forgets either me or you!

We are all His whether we know it or not!

This matter of moments matters a lot

Because soon we will meet the One who gave

The soul that once wore those bones in the grave


 It is written: “As surely as I live, says the Lord, every knee will bow before Me; every tongue will confess to God.” So then, each of us will give an account of himself to God. Therefore let us stop judging one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother’s way.…

Romans 14:11-13

I know I've posted this song before, but I love it!

The Splash

It’s not so much the number of the days and years we live

But what we did or do with them; this makes us who we are

It’s not so much what we’ve attained as the measure we give

That leaves us satisfied or wishing on yon childhood’s star

It’s not so much our have-and-hold as learning to let go

And in the meantime counting Mercy’s blessings one by one

Then while the smile and sigh of moment melts like summer snow

We learn it’s not so much a touch of Time but grace alone

This age old way of growing old is not just about years

We pass this way but once and none of us knows where it ends

So, while we marvel at how readily time disappears

It’s up to us to make the most of each new day it sends

The here-and-now we hold is all we have, like weightless gold

Its ladder to far yonder blue scatters footholds like ash

While we climb up and up and join the ranks of growing old

We learn, it’s not so much the number as it is the splash

© Janet Martin

Last night at a  Ladies Spring Tea at church we, all at various stages of getting older were treated to a wonderful sense of humor by a dear seen-some-HARD-times lady a little further along in life than most of us present, and it reminded me to ‘revel in the splash’ not the number!

Today hubby adds another rung to the ladder of years….Happy 52^nd, Jim.

Not Finished Yet...

Sometimes when looking back we think

We want what time has mimed to naught

Save in the pitter-patter of

Love tiptoeing across our thought

Sometimes when looking back we hear

What we think are the good, old days

And we allow love’s bitty tear

To cheer us with its good, old ways

Sometimes when looking back we feel

The touch of time, surreal and keen

This thing that heals can cut the heart

With nothing but the what-has-been

Sometimes when looking back we chase

A place that no longer exists

And overlook rainbows of grace

Spiraling where today untwists

Sometimes when looking back we see

Scenes that no hand can resurrect

And suddenly the heart is stirred

To salvage days not finished yet

© Janet Martin

In a week from today I will celebrate the half-century mark if time tarries, so

I think that entitles me to a teeny-weeny bit of looking back

if simply to remind me of God's love and faithfulness!

Ah, Lovely May

 I didn't get my fill of May writing, 

partly due to the fact that every May day was filled with May-ways to enjoy...

mostly work with a little play;-)

 May Days Collage...It's a little how a mind feels when looking back!

Ah, lovely May, your artist’s tray

Spills daffodil and lilac plume

Then scatters in their petal-wake

Many, oh many a budded bloom

Ah, lovely May, your minstrels play

Time’s greenest green and bluest blue

But then your music fades away

While we are busy loving you

Ah lovely May, your comely way

Makes orchards blush and young love too

And everybody, young and old

Is gladdened by the kiss of you

Ah, lovely May, ah, holiday

From firesides and surly storm

You dance across fresh fields of grass

In flip-flop feet, sunny and warm

Ah lovely May of bloom-fringed path

You slip away far, far too soon

But always in your aftermath

You leave upon dawn's door-sill, June

© Janet Martin

My farewell song to May;))

Of Maybes That Still May Be

What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us. Helen Keller
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/h/helen_keller.html

What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us. Helen Keller
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/h/helen_keller.html

What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us. Helen Keller
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/h/helen_keller.html

I have only one small complaint about this May...
it was too quick, but the wonderful thing about the end of May is it always leads to
the beginning of...
 June!

The colors of the future, love

No naked eye can see

But Longing hopes forward to slopes

Flushed with what still may be

That Past is like a playground, love

Echoing Time’s demise

Hope longs toward unshapen more

With soft, parental sighs

The door to what may be may be

Quite other than we crave

Pray we do not long for so long

That we miss what we have

The future is filled with May Be

That past with Nevermore

But Present Opportunity

Is knocking at the door

© Janet Martin