Monday, August 14, 2017

God's Word IS...an ABC poem






God's Word is…
Abiding Assurance
Bread,
Constant Comfort, Compassion, Caution
Divine Direction
Eternal Encouragement
Faithful Fellowship, fulfillment
Grace, guide, goodness, God
Holy Hope
Instruction
Jesus-Joy
Kindness
Light, Life, Love
Mercy
Never-ending
Omnipotent
Power, Perfect, Promises
Quickened
Redemption, righteousness, refuge
Salvation, Sure, Supreme
Truth
Unchangeable, Understanding
Victory
Wisdom
X-cellent  X-ample
Yahweh, Yesterday-today-forever
Zeal

Have you read it today?

© Janet Martin

Try your version. SO many words to choose from!

In Case We Forget and Become Anxious...





Salvation’s helmet, Spirit’s sword
The belt of truth, the shield of faith
Feet shod with the gospel of grace
Let righteousness be your breastplate
With prayer prepare for day-in-wait
Then raise your voice with mercy’s boasts
Rejoice and praise the Lord of hosts

For He our debt of guilt forgave
Redemption seals the sin-cursed grave
He died so when we die we live
Beneath hate’s nails love cried ‘forgive’
And pardoned with His blood the debt
That doomed us to eternal death
Then, for the loss that paid sin’s price
Take up your cross of sacrifice

And what we do not know He knows
God bestows peace to hearts that trust
And hallelujah hymns where dust-
To-dust is not a hopeless chase
But prelude to that face-to-face
Where grace our reckoning secures
Through faith in He whose Word endures

© Janet Martin



Saturday, August 12, 2017

Worthy Work



Whether metaphorical or literal, we are gardeners.
Seldom do gardens grow perfectly according to plan.
So much depends on weather and such
Therefore all we can do is do what we can
And leave the rest to a higher Hand

Those who work their land will have abundant food, but those who chase fantasies have no sense.
Prov.12:11

  All hard work brings a profit, but mere talk leads only to poverty. 
Prov.14:23 




This garden-plot of hours is a worthy work indeed
It spills its lot in flowers and the sundry fruit of seed
And though its days may test us with pestilence and disease
And grow in ways contrary to our hopeful fantasies
Still, faithful we will try to till and toil, this not in vain
If humble, we rely on He who orders sun and rain

We are not Master of life’s dust-to-dust of plant and reap
We, servant of its aster trust a Higher Hand to keep
This sun and shadow setting where dusk cools the sweating brow
That seeds a land begetting more than husks let to the plow
Then do not shirk this dirt-cupped quest of hard-fought groan and grin
But work toward the sacred Rest of harvest gathered in

Do not sit dumb while summer strums earth's sod of teeming leas
Lest winter comes and hunger numbs the clod that sits at ease
This garden-plot of hours slips its flowers through our skin
Toward that Great Roll Call of fall and harvest gathered in
So we, willing and able, should with glad humility
Serve He who sets Time’s Table with bread, then eternity

© Janet Martin

 At the far end of my garden the corn is not much taller than the tomatoes, due to late replant due to cold wet May and beginning of June. 
Here's hoping the mega-rain we had last night is followed up by sweet heat then maybe we'll still get a little corn, come September. Of course, on every corner around here a market-stand brims with corn, or will, Lord willing, so we will not go hungry, unlike pioneers who, after a storm like we had last night might fear starvation!
I read the book Little Clearing in the Woods this summer.
First they needed to clear the land, thus getting seed in rather late. Then, after a summer-drought the struggling plants were wiped out by 2 days of heavy rain. Terrified of starvation, Caroline's widow-mother prayed and God provided, not an easy means of food, but a means, all the same!

Reading stories like this stirs humble gratefulness for what we enjoy from the hand of God...
and it stirs a sober awareness of what is expected in return!


Friday, August 11, 2017

Where Gardens Grow...



 Darling, did you enjoy the hours when life deployed its love in flowers?




Soon Queen Ann’s Lace-graced hill and path
Will wear the chill of ill wind’s wrath
And thought will stray from splays of snow
To trace this place where gardens grow

Arise, arise, soon lullabies
Will snuff this flower-paradise
Soon have and hold will fill the tomb
Where gold-green-purple gardens bloom

Veiled tempest this; inhale, exhale
See how the morning mist grows pale
Ah, soon the boon of bud will sleep
Where gaiety of gardens sweep

Time’s hub of love and laughter metes
A world of sky-wide window-seats
We dare not dare to snub the thrill
Of thoroughfares where gardens spill

Darling, did you enjoy the hours
When life deployed its love in flow’rs?
Come, come, for soon its sum will blow
 Across this plot where gardens grow

© Janet Martin


Friends of ours bid their dear mother/grandmother farewell.
She was 105 years old!
Some flowers bloom longer than others but in the end earth's grave claims its due...

“There are three things that are never satisfied,
    four that never say, ‘Enough!’: 
 the grave, 
the barren womb,
    land, which is never satisfied with water,
    and fire, which never says, ‘Enough!’

Prov.30:15-16

Of Maybe And Perhaps's Lullaby ...



 Victoria and I are trying to refuse to count the Reality of numbered days remaining in 
Remnant Perhapses of Summer 2017
Yesterday it was back-to-school for our American friends meaning the walls of summer-freedom are closing in here as well!
Let's make the most of its 'maybes'




Time claps and its ‘perhaps’ unfolds
Strews summer’s wake with harvest gold
‘Maybe’ soft-kissed and stardust-lined
Turns dreamlands to days left behind
Fantasy, birthed in winter’s chill
Scatters matter of bloom at will

Scenes, rife with possibility
Implode, erode, ah, history
Time ever on the very verge
Of nevermore where seasons merge
To tease the spectrum of a sigh
As laughter turns to lullaby

The more or less of here and now
Anoints the tress of tree and brow
Where happiness and sorrow meld
To keen tomorrow, yet withheld
While we cater to ether sand
That slips and drips through heart and hand

To fill perhaps and maybes due
With that which looking back will view
Darling, the breadth of now and here
Weaves vistas stunning to the ear
Where echoes are not brushed awry
With hush-a-bye and don’t you cry

© Janet Martin