A Little Child Shall Lead Them...

This morning Little Girl arrived, expressing, in most unattractive sounds, 

her disapproval of a certain situation concerning a present, no less!!!

Strange, how chatting with a child can make one almost choke on one's own words;
 reminding her that we should be thankful with what we have,

and lots of 'boys and girls' don't,

and we name blessings and talk about how sad it must make God 

when we grumble instead of being happy with what He gives us,

and how we all sometimes forget and think someone else's 'gift'

is nicer than the one we got!
...and how we are often greedy instead of sharing.

Gives us soft hearts for the little one's just beginning their journeys 

of appreciation and contentment, doesn't it?!

Surely we deserve

A chastening rod

While we, juggling presents

Grumble at God

How often we act

Like an 'I-want-theirs' tot

Forgetting the fact

In the Matter we've got

...how God, rich in mercy

Condemns selfish greed

But promises always

To fulfill need

...how we should be thankful

and we would be cursed

But God, rich in mercy

Loved us first

Forgive us, blind gluttons
That seek to indulge
With 'wine, crepes and mutton'
Unflattering bulge

...and help us to hunger
For righteousness
And through it, find the secret
To happiness

~Janet~

Day in Hand

Waste not on what thou canst not know

The ardor of the hour at hand

Futile, those fat guesses we throw

Toward the ghosts of the unplanned

But thou, with what thou hast, do well

The bell that tolls with sleep or death

Is hung upon a citadel

That grants life’s offering, breath by breath

Fear’s borrowed grief, thou canst not ease

With buttered dread and promise-tea

Better the day in hand to please

With Utter Best’s humility

In vain to strain to scan the dip

Where the steep curve of morrow hides

The miles beyond This Present Blip

Of day in Hand where God abides

Then look to He and meekly ask

His love to undergird request

To be content with what thou hast

And give this day in hand thy best

© Janet Martin

 But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, 

and all these things will be added unto you.  

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow,  

for tomorrow will worry about itself.  

Today has enough trouble of its own.

Matt.6:33-34 

Where We Are

Yesterday's Spectacular did not keep the Creator from a Whole New Awesome this morning!

Where whole new whorls of Awesome wait their colors to unfurl

Where woman-whisper blossoms from wee wisp of little girl

Where morning breathes a beacon to the berm of earth’s Far East

And sets before adoring eyes sun’s rising glory-feast

…where Lad and Lass have mom-dad-shoes to fill when they grow up

Where worth is not a money-grab but poured from Passion's Cup

Where we are all never too young or old to need love so

And learn from one another what the other does not know

Where Beauty is the token of nature’s unspoken word

Where each Today finds new ways to leave wonder’s vertex blurred

Where dark and light, lark and leaf-kite ally like balladeers

To compose Magnum Opuses to stun our eyes and ears

Where fear would steer us clear of fancy and its bitty dream

But God, so rich in mercy mentors us through Living Stream

And as we drink the Elixir from heaven-unfettered fount

Hope’s well-spring overflows with ‘ohs’ too bountiful to count

…where there is always something to be thankful for in spite

Of all the ways that we could name to buckle in the fight

Where we, seasoned heart-breakers, make amends and friends, for This

…for this is where we are and this is always where God IS

© Janet Martin

 The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; 

he will never leave you nor forsake you. 

Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."

Deut.31:8

As We Say Yes And No

...And we say yes and no

And why and ‘oh’

We cry and laugh, we leap and fly and fall

And all the while

Through groan and smile

God sees and hears, my dears, and cares for one and all

…and we pray, yes and no

And why and ‘oh’

As we lie wide awake or fast asleep

Whether we worry

Or whether we trust

Nothing, my love, will tug us from our faithful Father’s keep

…so we bear yes and no

And why and ‘oh’

Where hold-let-go wears holes through more than shoes

We break and eat

Both bitter and sweet

And hold to He who never lets go while love wills its dues

...and we cry yes and no

and why and 'oh'

While seasoned flow and ebb startles our sigh

Bloom breaks the bud

That soon strakes mud

And leaves us filled with leaf-like echo's begging lullaby

…as we taste yes and no

And why and ‘oh’

Where hello and goodbye fills our eyes, lips and hearts

While Time tethers years

To the back of its peers

And draws us ever nearer to the grave grace where all life starts

© Janet Martin

Where Majesty Prevails (what a Wonder-full way to start a new week!)

 The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, 

For His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; 

Great is Your faithfulness. 

"The LORD is my portion," says my soul, 

"Therefore I have hope in Him."…

Lam.3:22-24 

(sometimes it is highly-intimidating to try to put words after such Holy Works, but it is intended purely as out-pouring of praise to the Provider of Perfect Poetry)

Heaven is tossed with low barred clouds

They stretch like piers into a flaming sea

The hemming dark is lost; its shroud

Dissolves in redemption where Majesty

Shakes out the night with Evidence

Of Faithfulness. We bow beneath, agape

On shorelines of Deliverance

As Mercy metes morning in crimson cape

The Author of time’s ownership

Astounds, confounds us where the old is new

Though its newness is but a blip

Before it bears our marks of error too

God’s grace is like a galleon

Midst mayhem's gloom its mast, cross-shaped prevails

Through passageways, oft alien

Hope’s sorrow-scarred Battalion still sails

Heaven is absolved of starred sweep

Its fathoms leap, afire with molten mist

Above marauders of Love’s keep

God rends Time’s reserves, orange, amethyst

Pours from the place where grace commands

This granted glimpse of Heaven’s Greater Prize

It waits in mercy’s nail-scarred Hands

While we press to the Painter of the skies

© Janet Martin