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The Palm Tree Blessing by W. E. Shepard
The Palm Tree Blessing by W. E. Shepard
It is certainly one of the most beautiful trees in nature. That is why so many are used in decorating the premises. People do not plant scrub oaks in their gardens, but they plant nature's beauties.
In the palm tree realm we have a large variety, of different sizes, such as date, fan, and cocoa nut, and in them all it seems that God laid Himself out to make something charming to behold.
When He compared the saint with the palm tree, it signified that there is something in him that is beautiful. One may be counted homely, or disfigured by some mark of nature or accident; but in spite of all he can have God's beauty shining out from his face and life. It matters not how he may be marked with some naturally undesirable feature, in spite of all, the palm tree saint has the effulgence of the upper-world glory, which over tops it all, and there shines forth real, heavenly beauty. So there is hope for all.
That beautiful daughter of King David, and sister to Absalom, who was the finest looking man of his day, was called Tamar, which is the Hebrew word for palm. Doubtless she was called Tamar on account of her beauty. Absalom named his daughter Tamar for this same reason: "And unto Absalom there was born three sons and one daughter, whose name was Tamar: she was a woman of a fair countenance."
Moses was so close to God and heaven during those days on the mount, that his face literally shone. And just in proportion as people today get close to the upper world, will God cover them with His celestial cosmetics. This far surpasses the paint and powder and Circassian cream of a frivolous and fashion-loving world. If people only knew it, the more of these-and of dead birds, rag posies, and glittering gewgaws-they put on, the more unbecoming they appear, and the more any natural beauty they chance to have is covered up. Whenever a woman besmears her face with paint and powder, hoping to cover up what she may think to be unseemly, she might as well carry a placard bearing this inscription:
To whom it may concern: This is to certify that I am homely, and am trying to cover up the fact by the use of paint and powder, thus hoping to deceive the public.
SIGNED-O. C. PRIDE.
"The King's daughter is all glorious within." And because of this it works out, and so, with God's glory upon one, surely there is no need of the world's adornments to supplement God's handiwork. "The ornament of a meek and quiet spirit" is the adorning which all should seek, and all may obtain.
The climax of trinket wearing is to be found in the heathen world. There they deck themselves literally from head to heel. They puncture ears, lips, and nose to find more room for their jewelry. God's arraignment of His people in the third chapter of Isaiah for patterning after the heathen customs is appalling, and we wonder that the translators of the Bible had the ingenuity to ferret out all the different kinds of trumpery in that dead language and find their proper expression in English. When the writer was a boy going to a country school, he was told by the teacher that barbarians wore jewelry, and in proportion as people did the same today they were barbarian. We once stepped into a restaurant in the city of Omaha, and noticed a woman seated at one of the tables. The sight of her hand eclipsed anything we had ever seen. There were rings galore. We do not remember the number on her fingers, but she had so many, it looked as if she had not room enough on her fingers, so she actually had one on her thumb. Doubtless she thought this added to her beauty. We once saw a fortune teller with large rings in her ears, three chains around her neck, seven rings on her fingers and eight bracelets on the wrists.
How different is all this from the beauty which the Holy Spirit gives! We have seen the faces of some saints that verily shone with the brightness of the indwelling Christ within. Sometimes in deathbed scenes God has lifted the curtain just enough to let a little of heaven's halo fall across the features, and how it lighted up the face and made it radiant with a glory which at once was known to be unearthly. God surely knows how to beautify His people.
* * *
"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years-three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined-he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken-to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end-almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me-only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!
At their wedding night, Kayla caught her brand-new husband cheating. Reeling and half-drunk, she staggered into the wrong suite and collapsed into a stranger's arms. Sunrise brought a pounding head-and the discovery she was pregnant. The father? A supremely powerful tycoon who happened to be her husband's ruthless uncle. Panicked, she tried to run, but he barred the door with a faint, dangerous smile. When the cheating ex begged, Kayla lifted her chin and declared, "Want a second chance at us? Ask your uncle." The tycoon pulled her close. "She's my wife now." The ex gasped, "What!?"
Sawyer, the world's top arms dealer, stunned everyone by falling for Maren—the worthless girl no one respected. People scoffed. Why chase a useless pretty face? But when powerful elites began gathering around her, jaws dropped. "She's not even married to him yet—already cashing in on his power?" they assumed. Curious eyes dug into Maren's past... only to find she was a scientific genius, a world-renowned medical expert, and heiress to a mafia empire. Later, Sawyer posted online. "My wife treats me like the enemy. Any advice?"
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
To most, Verena passed for a small-town clinic doctor; in truth, she worked quiet miracles. Three years after Isaac fell hopelessly for her and kept vigil through lonely nights, a crash left him in a wheelchair and stripped his memory. To keep him alive, Verena married him, only to hear, "I will never love you." She just smiled. "That works out-I'm not in love with you, either." Entangled in doubt, he recoiled from hope, yet her patience held him fast-kneeling to meet his eyes, palm warm on his hair, steadying him-until her glowing smile rekindled feelings he believed gone forever.
After a one-night stand with a stranger, Roselyn woke up to find only a bank card without a PIN number. Still in a daze, she was detained on charges of theft. Just as the handcuffs were about to close, the mysterious man reappeared, holding her pregnancy report. "You're pregnant with my child," he said coldly. Shocked, Roselyn was whisked away in a helicopter to the presidential palace, where she learned the truth: the man from that night was none other than the country's most powerful and influential leader!
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