Computer woes: first it froze then did nothing. What to do? Wait while they put everything from 5 users on windows 10 brand spanking new!! Back by Saturday hopefully but then relearn a new format 😐. Janet. This is my first attempt to post from my phone. See you soon 💕
Wednesday, September 16, 2020
Thursday, September 10, 2020
Unraveling the Wonder-wild...
The arbor in my garden often frames the perfection
of a child's face peeking through...
and giggling 'peek-a-boo'!
...the arbour in my heart does too!
What Wonder-wild will today bring?
Nobody knows!
Many, LORD my God, are the wonders you have done,
the things you planned
for us.
None can compare with you;
were I to speak and tell of your
deeds,
they would be too many to declare.
Psalm 40:5
On eastward ledge earth’s edges fringe fresh disappointment and delight
Dawn’s door, upon a soundless hinge swings wide and melts the dark of night
With what seemed so sound as a child; the tidy tick and tock of time
Unraveling the wonder-wild with brooks and blocks and nursery rhyme
This forward flight of morn to night soon seals The Reel, innocence-kissed
The childhood years no child reveres slips from them like a robe of mist
Those hands that pull the wool from eyes and tug us from our toil to play
Soon tuck the tulle of hugs and sighs around a world of Yesterday
…born of today; the glance that skims and dances through our touch with ease
And bears upon its beckoning a reckoning of memories
Where here and now, so very ordinary as it comes and goes
Is like the ink we use to write the stories that our lives compose
Wonder and woe, so interwoven we cannot will them apart
Are like a vine; tender-tough tendrils entwined round and through the heart
A tapestry that holds a sea of seasons softly swallowed up
Where day-to-day adds to the salt-starred roar of oceans in its cup
…on eastward ledge earth’s edges fringe the essence of a wave that rolls
From Mercy’s charge through mortal barge hinged to the Keeper of our Souls
Where all we face is by His grace and therefore we are brave enough
For disappointment and delight, the tangled residue of love
Where we, the children of a Dad who does not falter in His gaze
Will always vex us with the perfect order of His higher ways
Then pray we never lose The Sense of Something Precious Running Rife
Unraveling the wonder-wild of ink that inches into Life
© Janet Martin
Psalm 40:5
On eastward ledge earth’s edges fringe fresh disappointment and delight
Dawn’s door, upon a soundless hinge swings wide and melts the dark of night
With what seemed so sound as a child; the tidy tick and tock of time
Unraveling the wonder-wild with brooks and blocks and nursery rhyme
This forward flight of morn to night soon seals The Reel, innocence-kissed
The childhood years no child reveres slips from them like a robe of mist
Those hands that pull the wool from eyes and tug us from our toil to play
Soon tuck the tulle of hugs and sighs around a world of Yesterday
…born of today; the glance that skims and dances through our touch with ease
And bears upon its beckoning a reckoning of memories
Where here and now, so very ordinary as it comes and goes
Is like the ink we use to write the stories that our lives compose
Wonder and woe, so interwoven we cannot will them apart
Are like a vine; tender-tough tendrils entwined round and through the heart
A tapestry that holds a sea of seasons softly swallowed up
Where day-to-day adds to the salt-starred roar of oceans in its cup
…on eastward ledge earth’s edges fringe the essence of a wave that rolls
From Mercy’s charge through mortal barge hinged to the Keeper of our Souls
Where all we face is by His grace and therefore we are brave enough
For disappointment and delight, the tangled residue of love
Where we, the children of a Dad who does not falter in His gaze
Will always vex us with the perfect order of His higher ways
Then pray we never lose The Sense of Something Precious Running Rife
Unraveling the wonder-wild of ink that inches into Life
© Janet Martin
Wednesday, September 9, 2020
Mouth-control
Pleasant words are like a honeycomb,
Sweetness to the soul and health to the bones.
Prov.16:24
😊
Swallow hard and bite your/my tongue
Harsh words swift-spewed live so long
Breathe a prayer and count to ten
We all need grace now and then
Harsh words swift-spewed live so long
Breathe a prayer and count to ten
We all need grace now and then
And soon you/I will be so glad
For sharp replies left unsaid
For sharp replies left unsaid
Where a bit of mouth-control
Is like sweetness to the soul
© Janet Martin
By The Sickle From a Trickle...
I am so thankful I didn't yield to the impulse a month ago
to tear the blight and bug-stricken dahlias from the flower-garden!
They seem to have survived and oh, SO worth the wait...
where each hour is like a flower that will never bloom again!
So let's get out there and make the most of today's 'flower/hour-garden'!
My heart almost stopped this morning when at first I thought the crickets were gone.
Then hallelujah, a plucky little minstrel started cheeping,
assuring me that this sudden cool snap we are in is not the end of summer yet!
Cricket quaver starts to waver, dropping hints of Frosted Jack
Field and fallow fringed with mallow and golden rod bric-a-brac
Hill and hollow drip like tallow from a candle burning low
Where the flower of the hour weans the bower of its show
Hope and heartache war and partake of the Whisper deep within
Where a Fountain rends the mountain that would break these barks of skin
As the Giver of a river that runs rife with Reasoned Grace
Offers treasure in the measure of life’s Mercy-seasoned chase
Where the murmur that Was Summer sparks a sudden wonder-storm
Wakes a quiet kind of riot in Want’s dust-and-dream bent form
Keens elation’s revelations with a somber undertow
To remind us that behind us lie the subtle seeds we sow
Fall’s wild purple starts to sparkle along summer’s beaten path
We are always in the hallways of tomorrow’s aftermath
Where the hour is a flower, moments like petals that drip
From the spigot of a frigate laden with Time’s maiden trip
Dust soon settles ‘neath the nettles that roused rose-delighted trance
Wish and worry cannot hurry or restrain time’s song and dance
Let’s be grateful for the plateful that Mercy and goodness grant
Where each hour is a flower that falls from life’s sacred plant
Do not borrow from tomorrow, sorrow not yet yours or mine
Cricket quaver starts to waver; let’s drink Farewell like fine wine
And be thankful for the bank full of wild flowers gently felled
By the sickle from a trickle where what Was and Will Be meld
© Janet Martin
Field and fallow fringed with mallow and golden rod bric-a-brac
Hill and hollow drip like tallow from a candle burning low
Where the flower of the hour weans the bower of its show
Hope and heartache war and partake of the Whisper deep within
Where a Fountain rends the mountain that would break these barks of skin
As the Giver of a river that runs rife with Reasoned Grace
Offers treasure in the measure of life’s Mercy-seasoned chase
Where the murmur that Was Summer sparks a sudden wonder-storm
Wakes a quiet kind of riot in Want’s dust-and-dream bent form
Keens elation’s revelations with a somber undertow
To remind us that behind us lie the subtle seeds we sow
Fall’s wild purple starts to sparkle along summer’s beaten path
We are always in the hallways of tomorrow’s aftermath
Where the hour is a flower, moments like petals that drip
From the spigot of a frigate laden with Time’s maiden trip
Dust soon settles ‘neath the nettles that roused rose-delighted trance
Wish and worry cannot hurry or restrain time’s song and dance
Let’s be grateful for the plateful that Mercy and goodness grant
Where each hour is a flower that falls from life’s sacred plant
Do not borrow from tomorrow, sorrow not yet yours or mine
Cricket quaver starts to waver; let’s drink Farewell like fine wine
And be thankful for the bank full of wild flowers gently felled
By the sickle from a trickle where what Was and Will Be meld
© Janet Martin
Tuesday, September 8, 2020
Of Hard Heart-knocks...
Let's overthrow evil today with
the one and only name whereby man can be saved; Jesus!
Acts 4:11-12
This Jesus is ‘the stone you builders rejected, which has become the cornerstone.’
This Jesus is ‘the stone you builders rejected, which has become the cornerstone.’
Matthew 1:21
She will give birth to a Son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus,
because He will save His people from their sins."
She will give birth to a Son, and you are to give Him the name Jesus,
because He will save His people from their sins."
It's hard to trust enough to pray for hard knocks to get ours or a loved ones
'drifting attention/devotion' back on track...
Sometimes it takes a hard heart-knock for God to get our ears to hear
Because sometimes we balk at what we sense He longs to commandeer
Because sometimes we balk at what we sense He longs to commandeer
But, as a mother hen who draws her wings around her chicks, He yearns
To draw His children close; lest one be lost among life’s twists and turns
Behold, what love compels the One who stokes the night with one more Day
And leaves the Ninety-nine to search for the sheep that have gone astray
And like the father who beheld his long-lost son come from afar
When we are still a long way off He runs to meet us where we are
Sometimes we are deceived because we doubt when we ought to believe
Pride goes before the fall that arrogance and stubbornness achieve
But God, so rich in mercy does not leave us without hope and grace
He bends with gentle hands outstretched, if we reach up in humble faith
A Deadly Foe roams to and fro, seeking to draw eyes from The Prize
Without pity he sets a snare and decorates his lair with lies
And many fall prey to enticements, lured by Pleasure’s poisoned charm
Only God’s Word a lamp to light the way, can direct us from harm
Blessed are those who thirst and hunger after righteousness and truth
And blessed are the pure in heart; the meek will inherit the earth
Then, though sometimes the hard, heart-knock seems harsh, Love’s ways and means are just
And He will do what must be done to get the erring one to trust
© Janet Martin
To draw His children close; lest one be lost among life’s twists and turns
Behold, what love compels the One who stokes the night with one more Day
And leaves the Ninety-nine to search for the sheep that have gone astray
And like the father who beheld his long-lost son come from afar
When we are still a long way off He runs to meet us where we are
Sometimes we are deceived because we doubt when we ought to believe
Pride goes before the fall that arrogance and stubbornness achieve
But God, so rich in mercy does not leave us without hope and grace
He bends with gentle hands outstretched, if we reach up in humble faith
A Deadly Foe roams to and fro, seeking to draw eyes from The Prize
Without pity he sets a snare and decorates his lair with lies
And many fall prey to enticements, lured by Pleasure’s poisoned charm
Only God’s Word a lamp to light the way, can direct us from harm
Blessed are those who thirst and hunger after righteousness and truth
And blessed are the pure in heart; the meek will inherit the earth
Then, though sometimes the hard, heart-knock seems harsh, Love’s ways and means are just
And He will do what must be done to get the erring one to trust
© Janet Martin
19Those I love, I rebuke and discipline. Therefore be earnest and repent.
20Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in and dine with him, and he with Me. 21To the one who overcomes, I will grant the right to sit with Me on My throne, just as I overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne.
22He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.
Rev.3:19-20
20Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in and dine with him, and he with Me. 21To the one who overcomes, I will grant the right to sit with Me on My throne, just as I overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne.
22He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.
Rev.3:19-20
Monday, September 7, 2020
Season of Sweet Discontent
Summer pleasures are like flowers
Timed treasures that soon depart
Strewing petal-measured hours
Over gardens of the heart
Summer slips through our defenses
Weaves sheer wonder with its loom
While vexing and soothing senses
Leaf by leaf and plume by plume
Summer is a rush of roses
Rousing sorrow from its joy
As its dance of days composes
Longing’s dissonant alloy
Summer, sweet, ripe and delicious
Season of fulfilled desire
What then are these wayward wishes
In the embers of its fire
Ah yes, these are called September
Season of sweet discontent
As we wonder and remember
Where another summer went
© Janet Martin
Timed treasures that soon depart
Strewing petal-measured hours
Over gardens of the heart
Summer slips through our defenses
Weaves sheer wonder with its loom
While vexing and soothing senses
Leaf by leaf and plume by plume
Summer is a rush of roses
Rousing sorrow from its joy
As its dance of days composes
Longing’s dissonant alloy
Summer, sweet, ripe and delicious
Season of fulfilled desire
What then are these wayward wishes
In the embers of its fire
Ah yes, these are called September
Season of sweet discontent
As we wonder and remember
Where another summer went
© Janet Martin
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