The Gift of Life

Life is a gift, was a phrase often repeated in Saturday's message at a funeral I attended.

To God, our worship’s wonder and profound humility

For He saw fit to grant the gift of life to you and me

Then in return the least and best that we may strive to bring

Is to make each new day a gift befitted for a King

To God, the Author of Hope’s Steadfast anchor for the soul

Where mankind’s gift of life is not fate’s free-fall or sink hole

But He who gives and takes offers to all who will believe

A gift of life that does not end with the last breath we breathe

To God, who tucks man’s gift of life within Time’s envelope

Where soon the husk-of live-laugh-love is winnowed from its Hope

Then, all that remains when that which sustains our breath is spent

Is a most sacred face-to-face reckoning appointment

To God who cannot follow; Time’s Supreme Authority

Bids all who hold the gift of life to ‘come and follow Me’

Lest we forfeit His gift of Everlasting life for lesser boast

And in some vain attempt to find we lose what matters most

To God who does not answer to anyone; He is God

The Author and the Finisher of all that we applaud

Where He, though Lord of all, suffered deep loss for sinner’s gain

And grants after this gift of Life His gift of life again

© Janet Martin

Men swear by someone greater than themselves, and their oath serves as a confirmation to end all argument. So when God wanted to make the unchanging nature of His purpose very clear to the heirs of the promise, He guaranteed it with an oath. Thus by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be strongly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and steadfast. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus our forerunner has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever in the order of Melchizedek.

 Heb.6:16-20

A Serious Poem About A Serious Certainty

At the beginning of this week one of my best friends bid good-bye to her dad, Amsey Bowman

Today we mourn the loss of my Uncle Myron Martin 

So much opportunity once again to contemplate the Inevitable Must of dust-to-dust!

"...before the dust returns to the ground from which it came,

and the spirit returns to God who gave it."

Eccles.12:7

Death is The Great Divider

Stealing loved ones from our touch

But God is a Greater Provider

And He loves us oh, so much

Death is a grim reminder

Of what waits for one and all

But God’s love is always kinder

Than Death, when it comes to call

Death keeps us humbly thankful

For life’s most commonplace day

God’s grace and mercy are faithful

No matter what comes our way…

Death keeps us gladder for gardens

For blue skies sprawled overhead

Daisy and clover-strewn meadows

Sunrise and sunset, bronze-red

Death makes us think about others

Before its kiss chills our brow

Let’s all be sisters and brothers

Love one another here-now

Death makes us hurt for the hurting

Who will be next; who can tell

Death makes us think about Heaven

Death makes us think about Hell

Death is a breath-stealing river

Death is That Last Stepping-stone

When Life is returned to its Giver

Where God is still on His throne

© Janet Martin

Eccles.12:1-7

 Remember your Creator in the days of your youth,

before the days of adversity come,

and the years approach of which you will say,

“I find no pleasure in them,”

2before the sunlight, moon, and stars are darkened,

and the clouds return after the rain,

3on the day the keepers of the house tremble,

and the strong men stoop,

when those grinding cease because they are few,

and those watching through windows see dimly,

4when the doors to the street are shut

and the sound of the mill fades away,

when one rises at the sound of a bird,

and all the daughters of song grow faint,

5when men fear the heights and dangers of the road,

when the almond tree blossoms,

the grasshopper loses its spring,

and the caper berry shrivels—

for then man goes to his eternal home,

and mourners walk the streets.

6Remember Him before the silver cord is snapped,

and the golden bowl is crushed,

before the pitcher is shattered at the spring,

and the wheel is broken at the well,

7before the dust returns to the ground from which it came,

and the spirit returns to God who gave it.

A Temporary 'House'

  But as it is written:

“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”

1 Cor. 2:9

(wow! we sure will be in for a treat, huh?! Impossible to imagine!)

The Hand that pours the footing where

Our Here and Now is lent

Siphons elements of thin air

Into Time’s firmament

Its phantom frame that wafts in space

And we fill with response

Will soon fade to a resting place

Only echoes ensconce

These walls of breeze or bully gale

These floors of sand and grass

These halls where Wonder parts its veil

Shape rooms that come…to pass

This roof of morning’s mercy-bliss

And high noon’s blue, blue bars

And twilight’s flaming farewell kiss

And midnight’s froth of stars

Is but a temporary view

A Throughway God extends

That leads (if we believe) into

A day that never ends

© Janet Martin

Always Simply This

Today marks the end of an 'era' as this will be an all-scholar family in September

 (no more need for regular daycare)

so of course there are heart-tugs tonight!

'This pretty much sums it up' I thought this morning

as I watched the bubbles shimmer and pop!

Moment, ah, moment, you weave in your wake

Echoes, ah, echoes of time’s give and take

Turning the commonplace colors and care

Into a masterpiece etched on the air

Where have-and-hold folds into had-and-held

As gray and gold mold mist-oceans that meld

Faces and places and laughter and tears

Painting dawn’s graces/chases into yester-years

Where hearts are hubs of hard hugs and soft sighs

Torn twixt the tug of hellos and good-byes

Teaching, ah teaching us to taste what Is

Reaching, ah reaching cannot restore This

Which soon will drift to Past’s ethereal shore

Washed by the whispers of what is no more

Where for a moment we danced on sand-bars

Tangled at twilight in ribbons and stars

...catch a round rainbow and watch it go pop

Time tunes a tango no minstrel can stop

Tick-tock by tick-tock, today soon will be

Tomorrow’s beautiful memory

See how a river of ripples runs wild

Gushing through gardens where I was a child 

Taking the fellow and leaving a man

Time's trickster calling 'catch me if you can'

Dangling from rafters of seasons that fall 

Making trapeze artists of us all 

Touching and yearning, now high and now low

Loving and learning, now hold, now let go

Leaving us breathless by your easy kiss

Moment, ah moment, always Simply This

© Janet Martin

Miracles...

James and I are tremendously touched by all the kind words and prayers, 

and the rejoicing with us after the Dr. told Jim at yesterday's checkup 'everything looks really good'. 

His next check-up will be in 6 mos. instead of 3!

We continue to pray for those who are rejoicing with us, while bearing heavy personal crosses!

  

I’ve seen those rejoice with those who rejoice

While standing in shards of their own broken dreams

I’ve heard the music of heaven; its voice

Caught in the homage of tear-tender streams

I’ve walked ‘longside someone walking with me

Bent lower than I by the cross on their backs

I’ve felt the favor of being set free

God’s love, the filler in a love full of cracks

© Janet Martin