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 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.  

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beaconzbard's picture

What an awesome testimony of how god is always watching over us. God is so good. He is so faithful, even when we are so faithfulless (is that a word? well it is, now).