We/He

We, sojourners of season; we, who wither soon, like grass

We, grapple-rs of reason and understanding’s fixed impasse

We, free to choose response where recompense is veiled from sight

We, witness-bearers of mere glimpses of God’s love and might

He, holy, holy, holy, we, the ones He came to save

He, righteousness and redemption and hope beyond the grave

He, tender lovingkindness, forgiveness for sinner’s seed

He, faithful love and mercy to succor man’s deepest need

We, barely able to begin to fathom Father-God

He Creator of earth and heaven; we, flowers of sod

While we guess at His fullness He blesses beyond all ken

For He is God, the One True God and we are only men

© Janet Martin

…yet for us there is but one God, 

the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; 

and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, 

through whom all things came 

and through whom we live. 

1 Cor.8:6

Baby

 Because Rob and Emily were youth group leaders for years right up until the birth of this little guy they have the joy of watching many teens speechless with wonder(well, for the first moments or two) as they pop in for a peek

Tell me who isn't made glad by a baby?!
From the very young to the very old, a baby brings us all together in a meeting of purest joy!

It is so small, yet tears down walls

It says nothing, yet says it all

It rings the joy-bells of the soul

It brings together young and old

From far and near they come to laud

The evidence of love and God

To ooh and a-ah and gaze and smile

In wonder at a newborn child

© Janet Martin

Photo credit: Brittany Ruppert lifelong cousin and bestie-friend of baby's mom!

One of my favorite baby-poems...

Babies Don't Keep
 Author: Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo

The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Saturday Is Life's Oasis

Saturday is life’s oasis; it is a place set apart

For second-cup coffee graces, slower paces; it is art

Art of something extra-yummy in the oven, art of books

Art of nature showcasing what midweek scurry overlooks

Saturday is like a picnic; be it gold or gray, its air

Spreads time’s offering like a blanket on life’s finest dining chair

It is linger-here-a-little, nibble on a poem-treat

Revel in the luxury of bathrobe breakfast, slipper-feet

Saturday may demand Duty; bitty sweep-mop-scrub-dust-cook

Still, it is a thing of beauty if we take the time to look

Look a little thankful longer at the common curves bestowed

Where we would starve of heart-hunger without home’s humble abode

Saturday is like a celebration of labor well-spent

It is like an invitation to live slower, more content

Like a once-a-week oasis Saturday spills sweet and slow

Pours in second cups of coffee, only if we make it so

© Janet Martin

This Saturday morning started a little later then I prefer because I woke up and

 ‘cooded breed add cooded stop coughick’ (couldn’t breathe and couldn’t stop coughing)

Its ‘oasis' smells like Vicks and cough drops but ‘it sure bakes be appreciate forber bore buddade bordicks’😁(make me appreciate former more mundane mornings)

...or maybe Saturday at your house is more like this:
(we all know what these are like:)
Today's YDP

Time for another cup?
or a nibble-and-read?

I forgot to add the dough-circle is about 1" thickness before baking

When We Become a Mother...

Tonight an e-mail from Emily (our daughter, new mother) made me laugh and cry;
Motherhood a week old,

The love and labor of a new baby(some feeding challenges) overwhelming her with weariness, worry and wonder...

 and so begins her lifetime lesson of learning to lean on One greater while being astonished and replenished by love!

"my love for him is just so deep I want to take the best care of him that I can!"

Emily, his mother  (echoing the heart of all mothers)

Brantley James (one week old) (our grandson)
Photo credit: Brittany Ruppert (my niece)

When we become a mother we become laden with care

And love that loves much bigger than the labor that we bear

But we are not alone as we take on this untried grace

For God is our leaning post here in this learning place

When we become a mother we become mother for life

But God is ever-faithful through love’s tender joy and strife

For motherhood is something nothing can prepare us for

The fullness of its love and commitment like none before

When we become a mother we learn as we train and teach

To trust a loving Father who is always within reach

For while we laugh, cry, fret, pray, try harder, love deeper, oh,

We learn to lean upon the One that never lets us go

When we become a mother we begin to recognize

The love that often had no words but fell from earnest eyes

And we thank God for our mothers that love/loved us so

And learned to lean upon the One that never lets us go

When we become a mother we become laden with prayer

And love that loves much bigger than the labor of its care

…and we are not alone as we take on this daunting role

For God is like a leaning post for mother’s heart and soul

© Janet Martin

Home-Sweet-Home Winter

Tea kettle humming

And little child laughing

Snowflake-stars strumming

The stark winter tree

Supper-soup simmers

Street-light rhinestones glimmer

And sunset-sea shimmers

Soulful symphony

White winter-whispers

Slow snuggles, soft slippers
Snow-morning pictures

Steeped-tea afternoon

Rock-a-bye baby

Oh my, how I love you

Tick-tock, don’t hurry

What Time steals too soon

Snowman so jolly

Pat-a-cake, Polly

Tidy up dollies

And puzzles and toys

Story-book stages

Rouse princes and sages

And turn-the-page places

Of simple-sweet joys

Blue twilight heaven
Supper-chatter lingering
Beethoven's 7th
On the stereo
 Sock-footed dances
Where wind-moan enhances
Late-day dream-romances
Of Old England, oh

Flower-pot gardens

And fireside-pardons

Rosy-cheeked children

And hot-chocolate mirth

Sky-loft flings splendor

Dusk sings Love Me Tender

Where Home-sweet-home-winter

Is the best place on earth

© Janet Martin