Of Black Eyes & Black-Eyed Susans

by Deborah A. Tremblay
(Watervliet, NY)

It was just before my twelfth birthday as I hung upside down from the monkey bars in my neighborhood park, daydreaming about the costume party my mother was planning. All of my friends had been invited. I was especially looking forward to modeling the princess costume Mom had designed especially for me.

I suddenly noticed two older boys marching through the park playing “Follow the Leader.” Awestruck, I watched as the first boy climbed to the top of the sliding board, then rode easily down on his feet. The second boy followed, “surfing” down as effortlessly as his Leader had.

True to my tomboy impulses, I yearned to try their trick. I bounded over to the slide and purposefully scaled its steps. At the top of the sliding board, my heart beat wildly. Locking my knees and extending my arms for flight, I ventured down. Fly I did—off the end of the sliding board, landing face-first into the rocky dirt. I lay there, stunned and winded; my chest a painful, empty cavity. Once I could finally draw full breaths again, I rose and ran home crying, my body battered and my ego bruised.

Mom restrained herself from scolding me as I admitted to my deed in between wracking sobs. She held me close, placed a cold compress to my eye, and stroked my dirt-streaked hair. After a trip to the doctor, I bathed, had dinner, and settled down to bed.

Two days later, my birthday morning arrived. I awoke and excitedly slipped into the fancy princess gown and bejeweled golden crown Mom had created. Eagerly, I sought the full-length mirror. However, when I surveyed my reflection, my visions of regal splendor shattered--beneath my right eye was the meanest looking shiner you could imagine. I looked much more the part of Beast than Beauty. The sight made me burst into tears.

When Mom saw my black eye, she let out a sympathetic sigh. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to notice her fatigue from having worked late into the night decorating the house for my party. I could only think of myself and what my guests would say about my eye. Ever the creative problem-solver, Mom studied me for a few moments. Suddenly her face brightened. “Don’t worry, honey,” she assured me, “I know what just to do.”

In the sewing room, Mom designed a pale-green silky dress whose sleeves were shaped just like leaves. Next, she fashioned a large, lightweight headpiece that tied under my chin and framed my face with satiny golden flower petals. She worked patiently and cheerfully, all morning long. As I watched her, my wilting spirits began to lift.

When my new costume was ready, Mom helped me with my fitting. After scrutinizing the effect, she went to her room then returned with her make-up bag. Cupping my chin in her hand, she ever-so-gently outlined my blackened eye with a dark eyebrow pencil. When she had finished, my black eye had become my greatest asset.

I still recall our reflections in the mirror as we admired her handiwork. “You’re no longer a girl with a black eye,” she insisted as she smoothed my hair and adjusted the costume’s headpiece. “You’re a beautiful Black-Eyed Susan; by far, the most unique of all flowers.” A seed was planted within me at that moment. I sensed God’s touch in my mother’s gifted hand.

My days of foolhardy feats on a playground may be over, but I have failed and fallen numerous times since then. Yet just like that day I ran home to Mom, when I run home to my Heavenly Father, He forgives, soothes, and heals, using my very weakness for the strength He ultimately sows from my human frailty.

Just as I once fell from the slide, who among us has not been a foolish child on a downward spiral? Yet when we rise up and bring the Lord our shame and pain, He redeems them; ultimately designing and creating a new image with just a touch of His Hand. When we reflect back upon our lives, they will mirror the garden-variety miracles of His everyday handiwork; and the numerous instances in which He redeemed our black eyes into black-eyed susans.

“In his love and mercy he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them.” Isaiah 63:9 NIV