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Orange Daylilies
The background and picture on the poem are the same work by one of my favorite artists, Robert Bateman. His fantastic work can be purchased by using Google to search for his name.
The poem below tells a true story from my own life. I don't care if you tell it to others. I don't care if you reprint it to share. However, I DO WANT my name on it, because it is copyrighted and it happened to me. It truly is my personal experience and I can prove every word of it. It happened exactly as written with many wonderful things left out of a necessity since this is a poem and not an epic. There is one thing I ask you to remember as you read this. God is no respector of persons. The depth of love that He kindly showed to me is also available to you.
Orange Daylilies
They say, "ditch lilies" in the south,
where they grow so wild and free,
But they looked like Heaven's rarest blooms
to a dirt-poor child like me.
The walk along the rutted road,
then the race back home again,
Were worth the trip when those sturdy flowers
I held tight in my hand.
Five years old and eldest child,
three more at Momma's knee.
I spent each day in doing chores
and then my time was free.
The old homeplace around the bend
from the shanty we called home
Frightened me in its haunting way,
yet every day I'd roam.
Those lilies drew me back for more,
so bright and tall and strong.
Their orange fire in sunlight's glare
pulled like the Piper's song.
I'd slip away and pick those stems,
so tall and thick and grand,
I sensed that someone watched me there,
and that was why I ran.
Those lovely lilies spread across
the yard and to the road,
They took my breath with their beauty then,
where no man's hand had sowed.
One summer noon my grandma called
from the house that had the eyes.
I followed her to an inner room
where I got a grand surprise.
There on bare walls ten inches thick
an artist left his mark,
A lovely mural, waterfalls,
on boards now dank and dark.
I stood there for a long, long time
and looked in quiet awe.
Said, "God I wish I could do that."
in a voice with wonder raw.
The years rocked on and I grew strong.
I changed, forgot that day.
No lilies grew at where we moved.
Their mem'ry slipped away.
I married young, raised three fine sons,
taught church and Sunday School.
I sketched and painted all my props,
the Word of God my rule.
My husband's health was fragile then.
The Lord my strength became.
Every need turned into prayer
pronounced in Jesus' name.
God often fed us manna there,
As times were hard and lean.
My alcoholic husband
Was often harsh and mean.
I used creative talents
to decorate our home.
I tried to live a Christian life,
Still married, yet alone.
The Lord became my Keeper,
my Comfort and my Peace.
Though I was often lonely,
I knew my God loved me.
My husband had a heart attack,
He died three times that day.
Every time they "brought him back"
The Lord had told me, "Pray!"
When hubby grew much stronger
I took him home with me.
He never stopped his drinking,
Despite my loving pleas.
I wanted something better
Than the little that we had,
So once I tried to tell him,
But it only made him mad.
He yelled at me and cursed me.
said, "What you see here is it!
This is all we'll ever have.
So just get used to it!"
I felt God's love within me.
The warmth poured through my bone.
"I'll have WHAT GOD WANTS ME TO HAVE,"
I said to his heart of stone.
Less than three months later
we moved to a nice brick home.
A couple we had never met,
traded even loan for loan.
I couldn't quite believe it,
Yet there it was for sure!
I marveled at the love of God
so rich and wide and pure!
Thinking on His blessings
In the January cold,
Ben, my son, came rushing in
His smile shined like rare gold.
"Look what I found, Momma!
There's lots of them outside!"
He drew his hand from behind his back
His secret there to hide.
Lovely orange lilies were clutched
In his chubby hand.
Daylilies bloom in summer!
It was winter! Understand?
I felt the same rich presence
That I'd felt when but a child.
God said, "I watched you carefully.
It was me there all the while."
My yard is filled with lilies here
In the home God gave to me.
Orange blossoms spread the lot
And set my spirit free.
They've never bloomed again except
In summer when they should.
But God used them to let me know
The gifts He gives are good.
He heard a ragged throw-away
Who thought nobody cared.
He's worked a hundred miracles
Through faith and honest prayer.
He gave me what I asked for
when I was five years old.
I paint huge canvases to sell,
My story must be told.
I've never had a lesson
In the arts my heart persued.
I praise God for it everyday,
He is love and He is good.
~~~
To view some of my paintings, click on the paint pallette.
There are very few words that can describe the spiritual wealthy, and Christian beauty, contained within this poem.
Here is a Poet, not just a poet but a Poet, whose work I have not seen; and who, it is obvious, is a MUST READ on my bookmark list. This is the first poem of yours that I have read; and not the last I shall read, I can assure you. I will be slow, however, as my time right now is spread thin (a crisis at the office will have me working some long slow hours in the next couple of weeks). But it is my intention to read a couple of yours each day.
Again I say, Bravo!, and I applaud you on this magnificent poem.
Starward
Wow... such an incredible testimony. This work took the words right out of me... I'm left speechless. God is so awesome. Thank you for sharing your testimony with me... it's something that I really need to hear, as I'm getting ready to devote my 2004 summer to the mission field. Thank you for pointing out this poem to me, it's helped me immensely. Keep the faith. <>< Phil. 4:13 <><
Wow, this is so moving. Words fail to express how this made me feel. Very inspiring.
Those gorgeous lilies are blooming all around me. I see them everywhere I look. Now, I will think of you each time I see them.
Love and light,
Mary
I too remember the beautiful orange ditch lilies. I also remember the older sister that would sit for hours and draw clothes, hats, shoes and purses for me and my sister's paper dolls. You see we were very poor. I mean we were money-poor, but there was one thing we had more of than anyone else we knew. We had LOVE! This sister started drawing in the sixth grade and she was fantastic. When she paints it's as if she is the camera. We always knew she was talented and we knew it was God given but, we did not know until she was in High School that this wonderful artist was blind in her left eye. Is God not good? He knows the desires of our hearts and he knew that my older sister wanted more than anything to paint. I have wondered so many times what gift God had given me. Then I only have to remember my sister and I know.
Yes, we are too much alike, my friend. This is gorgeous! I admire your strength and faith throughout your very moving ordeal, and what a soul-stirring miracle you were given! I don’t think the Lord could have been any clearer than that! Amazing. Your sparkling poem has truly inspired me and made me dare to believe that all things really do, eventually, work out for good. Superb work! Pat