Wednesday, January 27, 2010

sometimes your heart knows what your head will not allow

The wind tossed the tall grasses delicately as the sun played rainbows off my eyelashes. I wandered alone, searching for that which I could not articulate, but that which I knew I'd recognize as soon as it came to my eyesight.

I stopped in a small field of flowers, mesmerized by the multitude of yellow lilies reaching out of the ground, begging me to caress them. I knelt down and plucked one off its stem. I felt the need to show it off. Its pure beauty was something to be spoken to others.

As I reached the crowd, I sheltered the lily in my palms. Animated, I approached the group and held out my hands, telling them about the tranquil field, and all the gorgeous lilies. Unexpectedly, I was received with snickers and dubious stares.

"Malorie, that's not a lily, it's a tulip! And it's not yellow, it's fuchsia!"

I glanced at the lily in my palm, secure that it was definitely a lily. And even if I did mistake tulip for lily, I thought, there's no way it's fuchsia when it's clearly yellow...

But the stares and laughter brought doubt in my mind as the crowd dispersed, still laughing about the fuchsia tulip I saw as a yellow lily. I held the flower softly in my hands, and pulled them close to my chest, as if their proximity to my body was keeping afloat faith in my own judgment.

As the day turned to dusk, I dropped the lily to the ground, walking away, telling myself it was, indeed, a fuchsia tulip, but never forgetting the feeling of holding the flower in my palms, marveling at God's gift. As I walked away, I knew I saw with my own two eyes, and held in my own two hands, the yellow lily, and that I would never believe it to be anything else, despite what I told myself. But, if the majority contradicted what I, and only I, had to say, didn't that make them right?


Many dawns and dusks later, I've seen that yellow lily again. More than once. And every time I've seen it, the overwhelming sensation of holding it softly in my palms, its petals tickling my skin, comes right back to me as if I'd just clutched it.

Ruined by my doubt, I've turned my face from the yellow lilies along the path of life, telling myself they are fuchsia tulips; swallowing the truth rising furiously in my throat.


In the silence of deception and denial, a glass has shattered, and truth has been released.

Finally, that which I've always known has been uttered.

They may have seen a fuchsia tulip, but I always knew I held a yellow lily in my hands.

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