The Mission of the Pansies by Mrs. H. H. Miller

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Dec 4, 1913

The Mission of the Pansies

By Mrs. H. H. Miller

MRS. H. H. MILLER

The warm August day was slowly drawing to a close. The heat had been oppressive, the flowers had drooped upon their stems, and the leaves of the trees were hanging lifeless, while weary toilers hoped and prayed for rain.

Lying wearily upon a narrow bed in a great hospital in one of our Western cities was a Christian woman whose faith was being severely tested, and who for a moment, as it were, was tempted to rebel against God, who had permitted the present circumstances. For many weeks she had lain in the same little bed in the same room, with not much cheer or comfort and not a familiar face to look into her own. This sultry day she turned her face toward the wall and cried out in agony, “Has God forgotten to be gracious? O my boys, how mama wants to see your bright faces!”

Mrs. Lee was indeed nearly discouraged. Failing health had compelled her to leave her home and her family, which consisted of her husband and three sons, the oldest about twelve years of age, and go to the hospital for necessary treatment. Mr. Lee was a Christian, and toiled early and late to support his family; but from lack of means, Mrs. Lee had been obliged to go alone and remain alone. She was naturally very courageous, but the intense suffering of the past few weeks, together with the thought that many more must pass before she could return to her family, caused her to feel somewhat rebellious. Then, too, the heat was so great it seemed to be taking what little strength she had left. Twice each week came loving, cheery letters from Mr. Lee and the boys; but tonight she was thinking of home and of her flowers, especially the pinks and pansies, and the faces of her husband and children came before her so vividly that again she turned her face and wept.

Soon she heard footsteps approaching, and raising her tear-stained lids, she saw a picture that seemed to cool the air and bring encouragement at the first glance. The white-capped nurse softly stepped up to her bed, followed by a handsome lad who reminded her so much of her Charlie at home. His hat had been left outside, and in each hand he carried a large basket of beautiful pansies, which were made up into separate bouquets with a pretty floral card containing a verse of Scripture and an appropriate quotation tied upon each. The nurse quietly said, “We do not often admit a caller at this hour, but the superintendent said that such a fresh young face with beautiful flowers would cheer a whole roomful of sufferers after a day like this, and she said he might come to St. Luke’s ward to distribute his blossoms.” As the boy stepped forward, he said to Mrs. Lee, cheerily and without a trace of embarrassment: “Mama said she thought the patients in this hospital ought to have something sent to them to remind them of the goodness of God and to encourage them to trust in him; so she has sent you some pansies and perfume, and I am happy to bring them, too.” And taking out a most lovely bouquet, he presented it to Mrs. Lee, together with a bottle of the rarest perfume, which had been hidden beneath the pansies. Tears nearly blinded her eyes as she whispered to the boy, “Come back here after you distribute your flowers.”

One by one the bouquets were handed to the sick ones, and finally he came back to Mrs. Lee. The nurse, who had remained sitting by Mrs. Lee, told the boy he could stay five minutes, “for,” said she, “Mrs. Lee has boys, too, and she will love to look at you.” So he sat down, and, taking her hand in his own, he said, “Mama said that perhaps some mother would be here who was hungry to see her boy, and that maybe she would be glad to see me.” Then telling her of his mother and of their greenhouse filled with flowers, and receiving Mrs. Lee’s thanks for the gifts, he arose to go; but suddenly he stopped, and addressing the nurse, said, “O, I have something else to give them! Mama made several powders which she thought might do the patients good, and she said for you to look at one and see if you were willing for me to leave them.” Stepping to the window, the nurse examined one of the powders, and with a peculiar smile, she replied: “Yes, they are good for our patients; you may pass them, and then you must say good night.” Leaving four or five with each patient, he said, “Mama wants you to keep these until the flowers have withered, then take one at three in the afternoon and another at eight in the evening, and in a few days I will come with some more flowers.” Then bowing and saying “Good night,” the manly little fellow went from the room.

Not until then did Mrs. Lee take up her bouquet to really drink in its beauty; and as the bright-faced pansies looked at her as if to say, “Have faith in God,” she felt to reproach herself for asking if God had forgotten. Then turning the flowers around, she saw the card tied on with narrow white ribbon, and as if in answer to the thought that had been uppermost in her mind during the day, she read what was written below a little bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley: “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee;” and underneath was the quotation:—

“Fearest thou that sometimes the Father hath forgot? When the clouds around thee gather, doubt him not.”

The question of the day was answered. God had not forgotten, and he had promised never to leave her, and her lonely heart was comforted. Then, as she was growing very weary, and as the nurse had returned to arrange her bed for the night, she thought of the little bottle of perfume and wondered what kind it was, when upon the bottle she read, “French Carnation.” Strange, the very perfume she had longed for during the day! Then again she thought of the providence of God in sending the comfort of the evening, and with the thought, “He will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,” she fell asleep.

The following morning, how refreshing it seemed to Mrs. Lee, after the nurse had made her as comfortable as possible, and the pansies had been brought in from a cool place where they had been taken for the night, to smell the odor of the carnation, to look at the pansies, and, more than all, to meditate upon the Scripture on the card.

As she was slowly turning her pansies around, she saw written upon the back

of the card a name which she had not seen before,—“From Mrs. Dr. Schuyler.” Questioning her nurse, she found that Mrs. Schuyler was a wealthy woman who had drunk the cup of sorrow to its dregs, yet whose life was filled with good deeds and little acts of kindness, especially to hospital sufferers.

“She has never sent flowers here before,” said the nurse, “although she has sent them to many other hospitals. She has lately added this hospital to her list, so we shall hear from her again.”

The pansies were short-lived, and after a time had to be taken away. But the sweet fragrance of the kindly act will live as long as memory lasts, and the floral card was carefully laid away as a choice keepsake.

Still another day passed without rain, and at three in the afternoon some one remembered the powders. “Why, ’tis not medicine at all!” said one. “Our powders are verses of Scripture and wise counsel.”

“Better than medicine for me,” said another.

Wearily Mrs. Lee reached out and picked up one of her powders, and upon opening it saw beautifully written:—

“Tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope.”

“Why should I start at the plow of my Lord, that maketh deep furrows on my soul? I know he is no idle husbandman. He purposeth a harvest.”

“Indeed, better than medicine,” murmured Mrs. Lee, with a little whispered prayer that God would reward Mrs. Schuyler for her thoughtfulness.

Over in another corner was an orphan girl, who read with quivering lips:—

“When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.”

Near the orphan was an erring one who had left home and mother, and who had found from bitter experience that the way of the transgressor is hard. Was it chance, you ask, when with moistened eyes she read:—

“If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.”

“My mistakes his free grace will cover; My sins he will wash away; And the feet that shrink and falter, Shall walk through the gates of day.”

“Our Friend,” she whispered, “in this unfriendly world!”

And to singing Jessie, who was the joy of the room in spite of her pain, and who often sang a little song to try to help some one worse than herself, came a ray of cheer as she read:—

“Then, nestle your hand in your Father’s, And sing, if you can, as you go; Your song may cheer some one behind you Whose courage is sinking low; And if your lips do quiver, God will love you the better so.”

The basket of flowers, perfume, and powders did its work well, and that evening, as the clouds grew dark with the approaching storm, when the thunder pealed and the lightning flashed, the patients in St. Luke’s ward found sweet comfort in thinking of the great Father who would care for his own; and they knew that when the storms of life were raging and the billows of trial and bereavement were dashing high, the voice of the Master could be heard, saying, “It is I; be not afraid.”

Many were the lessons of patience and trust which were learned during those weeks of suffering; and once a week Charlie Schuyler came with his basket of different kinds of flowers, and messages from his mother.

Slowly the weeks wore away, and one beautiful morning in the fall, when the earth was covered with a variegated carpet of delicately tinted autumn leaves, Mrs. Lee started for home. The thought of the loved ones awaiting her gave her strength. And when the train drew in at the home station and she saw her husband and the boys standing on the platform, she whispered to herself, as her eyes filled with tears, “God is faithful; he did not forget.” And as she related her hospital experience from time to time, she never forgot to mention the mission of the pansies and powders, and how plainly the pansies reproved her for not having more faith in God. And months afterward, when she had grown stronger, many beautiful pansies from her little garden found their way to sick ones, and lonely hearts were cheered by the silent language of the flowers.

“An early flower bestowed unasked, A light and cautious tread, A voice to softest whispers hushed To spare an aching head,— O, things like these, though little things, The purest love disclose, As fragrant atoms in the air Reveal the hidden rose!”

Foreign Mission Seminary.