About gayle

Gayle Blancett delights in living, breathing, and seeing the world through the windows of wherever she may be, in the eyes of those she meets, and in the air around her. Her poems explore simple yet significant truths in everyday situations and observations to stimulate thought and personal growth. After years of traveling and living around the world with her husband, they are at home in Salado, Texas. Topping her list of prized accomplishments are a husband of 44 years, grown children, and the most wonderful crop of grandchildren a grandmother could hope to have.


My posts are usually poems or photographs. However, I do vary from time to time. I am not sure when I wrote this true story, but the event happened very long ago and it was many years after that when I wrote the story. And that was a long time ago from now. I believe it was part of a church lady group project that collected devotions to be published for inspiration and possibly for fund raising of some sort. I found it today as I sorted through some papers and decided to share it with those that may take the time to read it.

Scripture:  Jeremiah 17:10
But I, the Lord, search all hearts and examine secret motives. I give all people their due rewards, according to what their actions deserve.”


Tuna Sandwiches



For years, I imagined the existence of some sort of sophisticated map of churches and parsonages, complete with current flashing notations indicating such things as “recent change in minister”, and “easy pickings”.  I felt all homeless and distraught people across the nation surely networked and received updated maps on a regular basis.


It never failed that we would no sooner get our boxes in the door when there would be someone needing food, gas, or something critically important to their survival. The caravan of the homeless and destitute seemed to flow a steady stream from one church to another.


One of my early encounters with such a situation left a very large impression on my young life.  The parsonage sat very near the church. My husband walked from the church office where he had been working as an old beat up station wagon, driven by a battered looking man, and crammed with at least 10 children, followed slowly behind him. The absence of the mother was noticeable.  I will never forget the numerous little faces, blankets, and belongings hanging from every window.


The man waited outside his car as my husband came into the house and asked me what kind of food we had in our pantry.  In those days, the pantry was almost always bare (except for 10 bags of sugar and 10 bags of flour we had received from a “pounding” when we first moved into the parsonage).  I had tuna fish and a loaf of bread.  It was just past midweek. We had little food and no money to buy milk for our own baby. It would be a long four days before we would be paid and could cash the check.  I did not want to give anything away and argued that point firmly but briefly with my husband.  He instructed me to take the loaf of bread and tuna fish and make the whole thing up in sandwiches.  I grumbled as I prepared to give away the only food we had for ourselves.


After they went on their way, he explained that the man and his children had been living in their car for some time.  The mother had been struck seriously ill and the man was traveling across country to take the children to relatives.  My heart was saddened for their misfortune, but my own personal worry would stay with me through the night.  I was angered by the calmness of my husband and his assurance that everything would be fine.


Although I do not believe my husband knew what would happen next, it sure did teach me a lesson.  The next morning the mail brought an anonymous card with a $20.00 bill enclosed.  We never knew who sent it, but the timing was unbelievable – – – or was it?


Thought for the day:  Pray and do what you believe to be right and best in your heart and mind at the moment.






I was asked to write this poem for the consecration service of the new First United Methodist Church facility in Killeen a few years ago.  The creek at the bottom of the hill is in Methodist Park.  The three crosses are on the path between the park and the Church.

The wind whispers through the Oak trees
Dipping briefly to stir the creek water
Before racing up the hillside
Three crosses stand
Broadcasting their eternal story
While the wind slows slightly
Bowing low in quiet reverence
Bursting to a roar
In a swift upward lift from the crosses’ feet
The wind reveals renewed vigor
And determined direction
It quickly engulfs the church
That stands on the hill so beautiful and grand
With panoramic views across the land

Cradling it lovingly in its arms
It gives honor to the missions anxiously anticipated
And recognition to its consecrated holiness
The wind that began with the whispered prayers of a few
Roar with the excited shouts of more
Then explodes with the dedicated and arduous efforts
Of many of the past, present, and future
Entrusted and empowered with a new consecrated vessel
All embark on the voyage with comfortable assurance
While facing the expected and unexpected
Faithfully knowing it is not without immeasurable reward

To the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Homage to The Holy Trinity
Is now and shall always be duly given


The candle
Stood tall
Proudly adorning the mantle
Sure of itself
Glowing bright
Shinning hot
And sharing its useful light

The mantle
Stood strong
Firmly anchored to the wall
Sure of itself
Hanging firm
Anchored strong
And proudly holding all that adorns it

The floor
Laid flat
Creating a solid foundation
Sure of itself
Quietly dependable
Loyally level
Supporting everything that exists above it

The person
Living well
Firmly footed to the ground
Proudly supporting family all around
Sure of himself
Focused on the light
Anchored in his faith
And held eternally in the hands of God


IMG_7720Beauty abounds

All around

But Texas terrain

Can be a pain

Prickly pears

At you stare

Waiting for you to come near
So they can stick you in the rear

Other plants anchored deep in the ground
Creep low and climb high without a sound
Resulting in rashes and itches galore
Pure misery from head to floor

Bees, wasps, yellow jackets, scorpions, and mosquitoes
Are low flying jets fully loaded with poisoned torpedoes
Dangerous rattling and coiling snake surprises
Slither from under the rocks when the temperature rises

But be aware of the two legged creatures
With cunning smiling faces, pretty and agreeable
For they can be more dangerous and deadly
Than all the Texas terrain hazards in medley


A cocoon barrier to human consciousness

Is constantly penetrated by lethal emissions of information

It acts as a sieve for overflowing tragic realities

Until life’s emotional impact is slowed to manageable




As I stood just beyond my door

In the very early morning

My not so brave little dog

Cautiously sniffed an inch of the darkness at a time


It reminded me of the roadrunners

That often venture through the neighborhood

Stopping frequently to check the surroundings

Then quickly sprinting to the next spot to repeat the routine


The strong breeze pushed against my face

Forcing the tiniest moisture drops to kiss my cheeks

As they disappeared into the black air

Escaping with giggles and gloating of their victorious mischief


I smile quietly now knowing it will be another beautiful day

Looking forward to the neighborhood roadrunner routine

And remembering the stolen morning kisses with my dog







I worked in my garden with God today

It is amazing how He makes it all grow

He watered it so nicely yesterday

Now I am taking out weeds as we go


I am always careful to thank Him sincerely

For the world He has rented to me

His guiding hand always given so kindly

For whatever the need may be


It took a lot of courage

But a question I had to concede

“I appreciate Your care for my vegetable voyage

But why must You also grow the weeds?”


God smiled at me with a compassionate smile

But He did not speak as I wished

I continued my labor for a while

Weeding in quiet redemptive peace


As we finished for the day

With joy, beauty, and gratification

I realized how in God’s subtle way

He had taught me a valuable lesson


Without the bad

We cannot appreciate the good

Without the sad

How do we measure happiness, as we should?




The cold morning air pushes against meIMG_0998

While recently consumed coffee resists the assault


A log now in the fireplace slowly joins in battle

Quickly followed by the rising morning light


Light snores from the other recliner

Evidence a quick morning nap stolen

After the previous restless night


The air is still quiet

In comparison to the night

But is revealing labor signs

Of a wonderful new birth


Anticipation escalates

With the accumulation of internal caffeine

And the invasion of

Agenda gathering thoughts


Anxious muscles slowly forgo resistance

Until the chair concedes

To the welcomed

Birth of a beautiful and promising new day


IMG_0699IMG_0700Grandma came to visit

She never looks the same

She lives far away

So on the plane she came


I drew her a special picture

And wrote her some words so dear

She loves these things I know

Because she always smiles with a tear


I showed her my best cartwheel

My sister played her song

My brother did his yoyo tricks

Then we giggled and hugged the night long


Grandma says we’ve grown too much

And she thinks we are all so pretty

But it is difficult to understand us

When our voices blend completely



I find it easy to initiate


Then procrastinate

When the task I cannot eliminate


Friends assimilate

For my stress to alleviate

As they reiterate

My promises to deviate


They collaborate

To communicate

Attempts on me to illuminate

But instead all exasperate


When I separate

I vacuously circumnavigate

Eventually to instigate

Yet another similar journey to irritate