She Holds a Scepter
Scepters.
That's what adorns that old stump—
The only thing left of the once towering tree in White Oak's cemetery, felled some years ago, though I've never quite understood why.
It was, in my opinion…
A majestic piece of art.
So, perhaps somehow an echo of gentle defiance—
Not having had the power, despite its strength, to prevent the feller's blade—what remains of the old oak is far from a sorrowful complaint.
Rather, annually, it welcomes…
Lacy loveliness.
Indeed, each July, there they are. Those pops of pink that turn heads.
(That is, if one pays attention.)
Out of the depths of that dark grave…
Beauty is born.
The gladiolus, the color of little girl cheeks kissed by a beau for the very first time.
Blush, that's its hue, and it has taken my breath away—
Not just from this irony, life springing from death (and in a cemetery of all places), but something else, and maybe even more this go-around.
After all, it’s been less than ten months since tears flooded pillows—
After homes were washed away and dreams died when water swept in and over and all around.
Friends and neighbors buried their dead,
Then returned home to nurse broken hearts all the while merely trying to breathe…
Yes, reminding one another—
"Please breathe."
But the gladiolus?
Unlike in years past when I simply admired the blossoms' beauty—feeling encouraged by the paradox, thinking perhaps it was only me who recognized it (such pride!)—this year, for the first time, I heard an exhortation.
Like a reprimand—
It's not just for you.
"What?" I inquired, and I likely turned its shade of pink.
After all, posies aren't supposed to punish, but that's how it felt—as if I was being scolded by this bedazzled, leafy stick, and I heard again—
It's not just for you.
I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know what was meant by It’s not just for you.
So, I wondered…
Maybe the gladiolus’ meaning would bring clarity.
I looked it up, and that's when my breath truly caught in my chest, when I read—
“You pierce my heart.”
Oh, that was--is--its message…
And then, it made more sense.
Empathy—
Feeling another’s pain in my heart…
It’s different, deeper, than sympathy.
Sympathy is feeling sad for someone but lacks understanding—having never gone through what another has faced.
Empathy—
Understands…
Comprehends…
Feels.
After all, though the circumstances are different, the pain is from a place of shared experience, and it…
Pierces the heart.
That’s when I knew.
The message of the gladiolus was more meaningful than mere beauty.
It was…
A call to prayer—
Begging me to empathize with those hurting in the aftermath of a raging river—
Those waters washing away hopes and dreams and, among the lost…
Little girls.
“Like Allie and Lila, Emory and Maci Lynn,” I choked. “Oh, I don’t want to think about that. It’s too painful, and besides, I can’t truly empathize with those who’ve lost a precious child because—”
“No, not like that, I haven’t.”
Perhaps not. But when you did experience loss, what did you learn—that which is true for all children?
After a moment, “I learned that God is good and what He does is good.”
That’s right.
It was then I realized. I wasn’t really talking to a flower but, rather, to…
My Father.
He continued—
What I do is good, despite the evil calamities of this life resulting from sin’s imperfection. It won’t always be this way, and one day—
“You’ll... You'll make all things new?” It was more a question, though I knew the answer.
Yes. All things new.
“Even for little girls swept from cabins—one minute whispering secrets in the dark, and the next…” I choked again. “Screaming with fear as…”
Yes, and already for these, My precious lambs, all things new.
“All things new,” I echoed. “Even now?”
Even now.
And as I walked away, a peace having settled beyond what my still hurting heart could comprehend, I thought I heard again the gladiolus (because, though much of the earth is groaning under the weight of this world’s sin, some of God’s creation still sings).
And its song?
“Each one is with Jesus. Each one—a princess. And now, for all eternity, they will hold…"
Scepters.
Your throne, O God, will last for ever and ever; a scepter of justice will be the scepter of your kingdom… All glorious is the princess within her chamber; her gown is interwoven with gold. In embroidered garments she is led to the king… led in with joy and gladness, they enter the palace of the king (Psalm 45:6, 13-15 NLT).
