Awakened To The Wholiness/Holiness Of This

For today’s prompt, write a “how I’ll be remembered” poem. 

It’s an interesting question: How will I be remembered?

I'm not sure how I'll be remembered but
the girl in this first photo told me today, as she happily squished apples into apple-sauce
 that I'm one of the nicest old ladies she knows!;-/ ...;-))

It takes focus some days to keep all the 'I want to help'-ers busy without
too much 'that's not fair!!'

Some day when years have met with years that yet still lie in store

I wonder what, when you look back, I’ll be remembered for

When sand that spills in ether ilk, spins from Time’s silken spawn

A thoroughfare of echoed yester-worlds to look upon

I wonder when the dust has settled where ‘we’ used to be

Then, if I cross your mind at all, what will you think of me

How swift a moment fills the hour-day-week-months and years

And I forget the pages of a ‘book’ that disappears

How, in life’s give and take I make a sort of legacy

As touch and taste, often in haste, turns into memory

Then, oh, I am awakened to the holiness of this;

The way I laugh-talk-listen-work-play-hold-hug-pray-love-kiss

It makes me think that there is no such thing as commonplace

How smile we smile or frown we frown shapes more than skin of face

It makes me think that every day is like a gift somehow

To cherish ever dearly who is near me here and now

For who knows just how near or far until we leave behind

All but the picture shows that play on fathoms of the mind

© Janet Martin

Keeping Our Eyes On The Big Picture

As eyes begin to turn Christmas-ward 

may we see Bethlehem

and when we see Bethlehem 

may we see Calvary

and when we see Calvary 

may we with tender love

see our fellowman

and in humility

Love one another

in every way we can

 My heart goes out especially to those who have had a really hard year

and all we can do is trust the One who has been there

and knows the hurt of hardship

and holds all the answers in His love

Lord, help us trust You for the How when reason seems unjust

Once thorns, not roses pierced the brow of Thee who pitied us

The hands that touched and healed the sick were pierced with driven nails

But still You kept Your father’s will because He never fails

Lord, not for gain of riches vain, forbid that we aspire

But love for fellowman, let this set humble hearts on fire

And help us not to count the cost, for once on Calvary

You gave Your all to save the lost and set sin’s captive free

Lord, when faith fain would stumble beneath burdens hard to bear

When mouth is drained of answers as it lifts the heart in prayer

Protect us from prisons of doubt in spite of what we see

And turn our eyes to look upon the Love of Calvary

…for Lord, we suffer nothing that you did not suffer more

No place to lay Your head, You came, knowing what lay in store

From heaven’s throne to earthy groan Lord, King of kings You came

Author of hope, we cling to You and praise your worthy Name

© Janet Martin

 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy;
I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

John 10:10

How flat our words of encouragement would be without living hope!


For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, 
so that through the endurance taught in the Scriptures 
and the encouragement they provide we might have hope.
Romans 15:4

Oh, Mon Amour

 There were trembling lips by mommy and her little girl this morning when they parted...

A bitty cup 'o tea comforts many an ache...

Ah love...

You kiss the mouth with smiles

You mist the eye with tears

You fill the ear with whispers, dear

The heart with yester-years

You compose melodies

As hello and farewell

Arrange with ease fond memories

Where once fleet footsteps fell

You help us to hold on

You teach us to let go

Ah, love you make well worth the ache

That you alone bestow

You kiss the mouth with smiles

You frost the brow with years

You fill the heart with sacred art

 And brush the cheek with tears

© Janet Martin

Of Felled Fronds...

Though it lingers soon the fingers

from a hand we cannot still

Steals the such-and-such we touch

like lilies felled upon yon hill

And the Face once flushed with pleasure

at the treasure it beheld

Learns the elemental measure

of moments that mutely meld

Weaving in their wake meek wonder

for a strange and younger cast

Stirring sentimental hunger

in the heart for seasons past

Yet the very ache that turns our heads

compels us to commit

...to never overlook the threads

soon woven into it

© Janet Martin

Hugs and special prayers today for those holding

dark threads...

They will, Lord willing, become bright again!

This poem By Corrie Ten Boom

is a tender reminder of the big picture

The Tapestry

My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

Not ’til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares;

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.