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.
* * *
For three years, Deanna endured scorn in a one-sided marriage. When Connor forced her to choose between her career and a divorce, she didn't hesitate-she walked away. Determined to reclaim her birthright, Deanna returned as the brilliant heiress to a medical conglomerate. Her ex and his family begged for another chance, but it was too late. With a tycoon father, a legendary healer mother, a CEO brother who adored her, and a showbiz powerhouse sibling, Deanna's life overflowed with power. Even her arrogant rival, heir to billions, only ever had a soft spot for her.
Camille Lewis was the forgotten daughter, the unloved wife, the woman discarded like yesterday's news. Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, she vanished without a trace. But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge. A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Armed with wealth, intelligence, and a hunger for vengeance, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on. She is the storm that will tear their world apart. Her ex-husband begs for forgiveness. Her sister's perfect life crumbles. Her parents regret the daughter they cast aside. But Camille didn't come back for apologies, she came back to watch them burn. But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what's left? A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future. But can a woman built on ashes learn to love again? She rose from the fire to destroy those who betrayed her. Now, she must decide if she'll rule alone... or let someone melt the ice in her heart.
Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.
When I was eight, Dante Moretti pulled me from the fire that killed my family. For ten years, the powerful crime boss was my protector and my god. Then, he announced his engagement to another woman to unite two criminal empires. He brought her home and named her the future mistress of the Moretti family. In front of everyone, his fiancée forced a cheap metal collar around my neck, calling me their pet. Dante knew I was allergic. He just watched, his eyes cold, and ordered me to take it. That night, I listened through the walls as he took her to his bed. I finally understood the promise he’d made me as a child was a lie. I wasn't his family. I was his property. After a decade of devotion, my love for him finally turned to ash. So on his birthday, the day he celebrated his new future, I walked out of his gilded cage for good. A private jet was waiting to take me to my real father—his greatest enemy.
For three years, Averie pushed herself through a secret marriage, waiting for the day she could finally wear a white dress and be seen as his wife. The night before she could finally walk down the aisle, he confessed without a hint of hesitation that he was marrying the woman who once rescued him instead. The "fake" divorce agreement she signed for him shattered into a real, icy breakup that finally freed her wounded heart. When he returned in remorse, begging for just one more chance, a ruthless business magnate pulled Averie close and muttered coldly, "You're too late. She's my woman now."
My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.
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