Sandra Elizabeth Daylily

(“Do Not Be Afraid, Mary,
You Have Found Favor with God”) *

Ah, I have
glimpsed you, before
overnight you
disappear into the
hill country of
Judea, as if
your essence could
ever possibly
be ephemeral,
as if your beauty and
the fruit of your
womb, Jesus, could
ever fear!

Sisters

(“Lord, Don’t You Care That My Sister
Has Left Me to Do All the Work by Myself?”) *

O’, bumblebee,
engrossed and enveloped
as you are,
captured in this
split-second beatific
vision of the core
of Beauty, are
you like Martha,
busy and bustling,
or rather like Mary – seated
rapt in listening at
the font and foot of the
Teacher’s lips, His
words pouring forth,
pollinating and
bathing, Martha the
moments missing, Mary
them in her heart
saving…?

In the Sheepfold

Isaiah 43:1

(“I Have Called You by Name”)

Oh, ’twas an unforgettable,
gorgeous, autumn day, and the
most important thing
to the petite shepherdess
was that she teach me of each
sheep the uniqueness of
their blessed name…

Creature

O Lord, You held me
cupped in Your hands, cradled
in Your arms. You made
me to tenderly lie against
Your bosom. You formed me and
shaped me until I was as
close to Your image and likeness
as a human creature could
become, and then You
looked into my face and
breathed my name, and like a
tiny mustard seed in
the womb You placed me –
into the innocent,
lush garden of an in utero,
warm enclave.^*

Confessing

I was too tired to pray,
so all I could barely whisper was
to ask Jesus to recite my
prayer for me, the very same
Jesus Who was being
scourged and abused at the pillar,
crowned with vicious thorns,
dragged cruelly through
screaming passageways to
Calvary, and then nailed
with filthy Roman spikes to a
Cross, and in the last
throes of His agony crying out,
“My God, my God, why
did You abandon me?”^*
Yes, that is the same Jesus
Whom I implored to recite the
words for me…because I
was too tired to stay awake and in
self-centered pity to pray.