Monday, January 16, 2017
Sunday, January 15, 2017
We/He
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, tender lovingkindness, forgiveness for sinner’s seed
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!
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.
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, January 14, 2017
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
...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?
When We Become a Mother...
Tonight an e-mail from Emily (our daughter, new mother) made me laugh and cry;
Motherhood a week old,
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)
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
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