Work Waits!

'Why are you holding me? I'm a big boy' said Grandsonny 

as I scooped him up in my other arm as we walked across the yard. 

He looked across at his sister who is The Baby 

and wanted to make sure I wasn't mistaking him as one! 

'Oh, I know you're a Big Boy' I reassured him as I kissed his curls.

 'but sometimes Grandma wants to hold the world in her arms'

A bit of a challenge to capture nice keepsakes at this stage...

youngsters don't necessarily look at the camera or smile on command😀
especially if there is a cool tractor going by!

Work waits; but not the little lad or lass with silken curls

And not the bloom where petal-plume its brief bearing unfurls

And not the scene of June’s lush green soon scorched by July heat

And not the tune tapped by the metronome of child’s bare feet

And not the he or she that pulls toward life’s wanderlust

And not the frame dawn hoists and dusk folds back into the dust

Work waits; but not the season spilling wonder wild and free

Work waits, thank God or else there never could be poetry 

So take the time to climb the hill, dash through Wander-lands gates

Or hold to heart's content the child and be glad that work waits

How sad if all we have to celebrate at End of Day

Is to-do lists completed while the fledgling flew away

© Janet Martin

Awe's Treasure Hunt

 I remarked to my sister this morning that sometimes I mourn 

the myriad beauties I miss because one must sleep!

 I am reading Stars Come Out Within  by Jean Little

as she recounts her battle with worsening eyesight 

that pushes her to the edge of blindness!

It renews thankfulness for the gift of sight!

Here are a few thrills I witnessed this week...

Each day ought to be a treasure hunt for awe
whether outward or when stars come out within.

I know a place where wild trees bloom unseen by living soul

We witness much but still only the fringe of wonder’s whole

The tender touch that begets beauty’s manifold hurrah

Makes getting up each morning like a treasure hunt for awe

Where momentarily I might mourn for majesties missed

But cannot sorrow long where a new throng of thrills untwists

Like mist that drapes earth’s eastward edge as morn’s heavens declare

The glory of Creator God who gilds this thoroughfare

With beauties none can number or find ink enough to pen

But be glad we have eyes to behold again and again

And vow to never simply look, but let sight’s mercy spur

A hymn of thankfulness to Beauty’s Divine Creator

© Janet Martin

Birth Beckons Celebration

Birth beckons celebration; whether babe, a bloom, a pup

New day that spills o’er yonder hills from Mercy’s brimming cup

Hope, like a hearty handshake, refreshes happiness

As beauty, God’s stayed signature anoints life’s ugliness

Where we, a host of beggars by the grace of Holy God

Are treated, free of charge to awesome art of sky and sod

Over the ash of ages and the bones of silenced cries

Birth frees from fettered cages the proof of God’s kind replies

Where death spills blood and stills the pulse (sometimes ‘neath human hands)

But breath that ushers birth only Life’s Bestower commands

For once life has departed no one can its voice revive

And only birth can keep the earth rejoicing and alive

Birth beckons celebration; like a poem penned by He

The author of salvation, to His beloved family

Where, midst the groaning turmoil beneath man, death would be chief

But hark; a puppy barks, a baby cries, dawn breaks, buds leaf

We lift our heads, a melody woos above brutal wars

And from Time’s teardrop riddled trench the human spirit soars

© Janet Martin

 For with you is the fountain of life;
    in your light we see light.

Psalm 36:9 

The whole glorious psalm here,

as fitting for these days

as in days of old!

I have a message from God in my heart
    concerning the sinfulness of the wicked:^[b]
There is no fear of God
    before their eyes.

² In their own eyes they flatter themselves
    too much to detect or hate their sin.
³ The words of their mouths are wicked and deceitful;
    they fail to act wisely or do good.
⁴ Even on their beds they plot evil;
    they commit themselves to a sinful course
    and do not reject what is wrong.

⁵ Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens,
    your faithfulness to the skies.
⁶ Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,
    your justice like the great deep.
    You, Lord, preserve both people and animals.
⁷ How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
    People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
⁸ They feast on the abundance of your house;
    you give them drink from your river of delights.
⁹ For with you is the fountain of life;
    in your light we see light.

¹⁰ Continue your love to those who know you,
    your righteousness to the upright in heart.
¹¹ May the foot of the proud not come against me,
    nor the hand of the wicked drive me away.
¹² See how the evildoers lie fallen—
    thrown down, not able to rise!

Earth Before Heaven...

 We wrap our arms around the fleeting charms of precious girl and boy...

(the first line of this poem was inspired by Eager Little Girl
in the top left corner of the photo-collage)

We press our eager faces to the places we caress with joy

We wrap our arms around the fleeting charms of precious girl and boy

We vow to keep within our hearts a fragment of the art that spills

In seasoned form; the flower-storm of hymns unfurled in flawless frills

But even as we feel fond measures fade on fingertips and lips

Another comes to steal our gaze and amaze us with fellowships

Of love in all its sundry ways; where joy is not at loss for long

Because God tunes the harp that plays the prelude to His perfect song

The enemy of hopes and dreams schemes but can never thwart the Hand

That touches strings that heed the Maestro always in complete command

Then when love breaks our hearts and souls smart with the bitter sting of grief

The Gilead of woods and gardens showcases God in a leaf

Where, as we take a close-up look at minstrels in earth’s orchestra

Wonder overflows hunger’s cup and fills would-be despair with awe

Then we acquainted with love’s cares feel like a flower’s next of kin

As balm of bloom sings like a lark and keeps the dark from closing in

© Janet Martin

...and so it begins; that next-of-kin feeling flowers give us!
Next-of-kin with much we can learn from them!

They are not prejudiced
or anxious.

They never compare themselves to a fellow-lily.

They simply bloom where they are planted

and give God the glory!

Praying we can all, in troubled times, and disappointment, cling to the ageold message
of the verses below with humble hearts of faith...

Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

f 28And why do you worry about clothes? 

Consider how the lilies of the field grow: They do not labor or spin.

 29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his glory was adorned like one of these.

 30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, 

which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, 

will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?

Matt. 6:27-30