Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Into the world with wonder, Spring

comes quietly at first before azaleas
burst, showering us with pink petals
freckled at the center, followed by
magnolia blossoms showing pear-
shaped petals – creamy-white and
cupped to catch the sun. Tails flagging,
squirrels hop across the meadow and
run along the arms of oak, playing tag.

Catch me, Lord. Tag me as Your own.
Let me spring into Your arms, ready
to soak up the Son with my arms raised
in praise of You and worlds of wonder.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016


Saturday, May 21, 2016

me, myself, and I – a trinity

of being:
an object – me,
an owner – my,
a subject – I.

Is this anything like Your Trinity, Lord?

My Father God – our Father God
created all of us, including myself!

Jesus Christ gave His life for all
of us, including me!

The Holy Spirit subjects the I-ego
to the Father and the Son,
not seeking the attention I prefer
but deferring to God’s guidance
and Good News of Jesus’
saving grace.

Three in One, and I
in Their image, we
in Their image
loving and praising
our Creator, Savior, and
Conductor of all good….

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016



Thursday, May 19, 2016

The trees in my yard have names:

Maggie for the magnolia by our back deck,
Cy for the cypress down by the lake,
King for the giant oak, who holds my swing,
Leb for the cedar, not ever from Lebanon,
Elmer for the elm tree by the front door.

Naming something allegedly gives us more
power over it, but if a huge hurricane hits
my yard hard, would my commands
have the clout to make trees stand firm
or find a new route away from my home?

Jesus said faith can move mountains –
and maybe trees and hurricanes too,
but Lord God, I look only to You to
empower and move me into Your ways
in praise of Your All-Powerful Name.


by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016



Friday, May 13, 2016

Praise You, Lord, for quiet comfort

in this deep-set country yard, flanked
by a small but lovely lake, lily-padded
with scores of frogs, whose nightly chorus
rises to crescendos echoing across the water
and resonating through the trees, whose
leaves drop daily onto our deck in need
of sweeping – a wide yard, whose grass
constantly needs mowing, whose air
conditioner keeps running up an electric
bill I sometimes worry about paying.

Praise You, God, for Your Shalom,
hedging me in with giant green arms
upholding, soothing, sustaining me
as this wasp hovers over my head.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2014, 2016

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Hawks have such a crybaby cry!


Do I sound like that to You, Lord?

People or birds – we all have needs
we hope You’ve heard.

In the woods around our house,
eagles soar and tiny wrens sing
as loud as a choir, practicing
individual parts of worship,
not only for a Sunday hour
but whenever the spirit moves.

A mourning dove coos, and
on our little lake, snakebirds
lift their wings to dry in the sun
You provide, while squirrels hide
in high tree homes with tiny cries
as some threat comes. But hawks

anticipate the wren, the dove, the
squirrel for meals, wheeling high
above woods and lake and my
home where all have needs
we know You hear as You gaze
on us in love. We give You praise.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016


Thursday, May 5, 2016

Zebra stripes abbreviated in a butterfly wing


The mango head of a condor
– orange-pink
in Pacific sunsets….

The spokes of an umbrella
folding and unfolding the arms
of a bat in a cavern,
dark, damp, and deep….

What wonder! What beauty!
What wit You have written
into creation, O Creator God.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Christ in me and I in Him

– what a glorious hope
and calling!

The Lord seeks me

and sometimes finds
a preoccupied mess
caught up in my own
busy-ness.

What kind of sanctuary
am I?

What hope does the Lord have
for me

to empty self
of worldly ways
and invite Christ in
with prayer
and praise?

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016


Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Father, I wish You would come home

and throw down Your keys
and take off Your watch
and empty Your pockets
of change like my dad did
every night of my child life.

But, oh. Is that what You
want from me?

Help me, Heavenly Father,
to come home to You and
always keep watch but
put down my keys and

change.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016


Thursday, April 14, 2016

Even if the hawk kills

colorful songbirds in our yard,
I praise You for the birds of prey,
who lift us as they soar
majestically.

And even if the coral snake
hides poison beneath our shed,
I praise You for designing such
flamboyant
bands of beauty.

And if the bougainvillea stabs
us with long thorns, I praise You
for reminders of Your crown
and the beautiful red flowers
bleeding on our lawn.

by Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016


Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Oh, my Darling Jesus, I love You

love You, Lord.
I love how You look deep into my eyes
and see something of Yourself.

I love how You quieten my storms
and rebuke ill will around me.

When I’m burning with feverish
activity or sinking over my head
in hot water, I love how You take
my hand and lift me up to
breathe.

Each time I die
inside, You call me
forth by name
and bring me
into Your living light.

Oh, my Darling Jesus, I love
how much You love me –
love me – my Lord!

Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016



Saturday, April 9, 2016

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Christ our Lord
is risen
in each of us each day,
and neither gravity
nor a cruel grave
can keep us down.

Mary Harwell Sayler, © 2016