"I have small eyes. She has big eyes. But we have the same eyes." It was the caption under two sets of almond-shaped eyes, one set smaller and one a bit larger. Eight year old Priscilla had drawn them as part of a school project and my eyes gleamed as I learned how much my niece wanted to be like me. The construction paper book held matching pictures of her and me, always one smaller than the other. She wrote about me taking her to the store and playground and she stressed that since we had the same name, hers being my middle name, we were "just alike." Priscilla; my pride.
In those days, as a single woman, I carried wallet-sized photos of all my nieces and nephews. There were eleven of them by then with more on the way. And I absolutely loved those kids. Even then, I had this gnawing feeling that I would have trouble conceiving and I poured all the affection I might have reserved for my own babies into them. Now guys, even if you weren't close by, just know I was still head over heals about you all. No fighting over me, please.
From the inside of a juvenile detention center seven years later, going to live with Tia Alma seemed like a really good idea. So Priscilla, my bruised little flower moved in. Wilted in places and injured, this frail child was entrusted to me. "Tia, I can't sleep, will you rub my back?" "Tia, my stomach hurts, can you lay with me?" "Tia, I have a headache. Do I have to go to school?" Hungry for attention, she fed freely and knew she could. As for me, I happily obliged. But she was no ordinary flower. It would take more than some harsh treatment to finish her off. She was like a foxglove, so resilient with such vibrant color. Given the right elements and good rich soil, they thrive. And she did. And she has. Foxglove flowers are hard to kill. They can grow to two to five foot spikes and their leaves produce a substance used in heart medicine. The foxglove can also be poisonous. In Priscilla I've observed venom fend off her attackers and defend her loved-ones. And I've admired the healing she imparts to others' hearts who, likewise, have suffered. She stands tall, brightly adorned with a smile and passersby take note of her beauty. Priscilla; my pride.
The foxglove self-sows and multiplies spreading rapidly and filling its bed. Now Priscilla might say, "here's where the analogy ends." It's been three years since their marriage and Priscilla and Brown have wanted a second child. "A hormonal imbalance" they call it. Well, we all knew there was some kind of imbalance. But seriously, no babies, not yet. And yet, what she sows into the lives of her daughter and countless others multiplies. She's sown into my life and enriched it with her love. And that Divine Gardener has so much more in store.
Priscilla says my story inspires her and gives her hope. That hope is in the Lord. It's in the fact that He knows Priscilla's name and her desires. It is in the knowledge that her Creator has great plans and will use her to nurture others. It is in the promise that, while they may or may not be from her own womb, He will fill her home with many children. In this season of life, she is experiencing a blessed barrenness and can affirm God's goodness. How fitting that a blessing contained in my barrenness is named Priscilla.
