Crook of Joy

Making muffins…simple joy!

Sometimes, out of the blue, a wave of sympathy rolls through me 

as I wave at grandchildren leaving,

 or as son comes home for visit and fridge-forage, 

or as the word ‘home’ slips from my lips without second thought, 

until suddenly I am smitten with utter grief 

for the millions of refugees who had to flee their home-sweet-homes…

Sometimes then, the Simple Sacred steals my breath

with a fresh and humble thankfulness

for the beauty of our beloved crook of joy…home!

Yes, with all of love’s foibles and flaws, home, sweet home!!

Enjoying the final bowl full of 

plush, pink peony-pom-poms for this year!

Where child and garden flourishes in fleet simplicity

Where more than supper nourishes its precious company

Where comforts are not fancy but are priceless, nonetheless

And nothing on earth quite compares to its fair happiness

Where flower bouquets bring beauty to duty’s dear mundane

Where nobody outgrows the open arms of its domain

Where heartaches are confided, where we learn to give and take

Where tasks are oft divided but then, so is tea and cake

Where wonderful aromas waft through open kitchen door

And suddenly our burdens weigh less than they had before

Where the brunt of life’s blessings overflows our tender hearts

With thankfulness for home sweet home and all that it imparts

Where prayers and cares soft-mingle in medleys of smiles and tears

Where summer always flies too fast into Past’s cast of years

Where patience is a virtue of great benefit and cheer

To safeguard joy and peace while youngsters learn to persevere

Where we are always welcome to forage the cookie jar

Or fridge or pantry no matter how older-now we are

Where no matter the weather or how far away we roam

No place on earth is better than the berth of home-sweet-home

Oh Lord, we grieve for those whose homes they had to swiftly flee

And leave behind rooms filled with mementos of family

How oft we mourn the war-torn town and countryside bereft

Of happiness of home sweet home and only rubble left

Then, we with meeker labor, repent of some selfish ploy

And become humbly gladder for our home-sweet crook of joy

Where there is nothing commonplace about its grace of chores

Or laughter round its tables or mothers waving from doors

© Janet Martin

So what’s today’s ‘grace of chores’? 


The rain makes everything grow!

do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, 

giving thanks to God and the Father by him.

(distracting baby with a coffee-tin drum

because he wanted to mix muffins too!!)😂💗


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