Once upon a time in a very small town on the edge of poverty, there lived a woman who had the most beautiful flowers in her garden and all around her house. Every summer people came to see her flowers and maybe, just maybe, catch a glimpse of her.
She was a beautiful woman. She was a small one and a not very tall one. Maybe she was five feet two or three and a handful more than a hundred pounds.
Her skin looked liked it had been kissed by the sun. It glistened like she had been honey glazed.
To all of us on the edge of poverty, the notion good things come in small packages was never truer than with Miss Joy. That's what we called her because nobody really knew her name. She was a sweet woman some believed had come directly from the lake.
We called her Miss Joy. That's how everybody said they felt after passing by and seeing her for a minute from a distance.
Every time people saw her or just her garden, they walked away with greater hope for life like the image of Miss Joy and her garden walked on with them as they walked away. That way whenever they would feel a little bit sad, all they would have to do is remember Miss Joy, feel better and be able to go on a little further.
It was never more beautiful at Miss Joy's than at Christmas time. The curtains on her pretty front window would be opened for all to see her Christmas Tree. It looked like all on stars on sale. In the wintertime darkness, it glowed like something magical.
Just like in summer, people passing by would stop their cars on the side of the road. They would get out and stand and just take in the sight like it was one of the great wonders of the world. I guess, to folks who lived on the edge of poverty; Miss Joy and her works of beauty were great wonders.
I was there more than everybody. I would always wait until she would come to the window and wave before I would go home. I sort of imagined myself looking after Miss Joy. I never did see anybody else there with her.She didn't come to the window everyday. I figured those days she was just too tired.
Other times she would wave from the window every thirty minutes. After she would come and wave to everybody, whoever was there would slowly begin to thin out and leave.
I always stayed the longest. Somehow I really did think of myself as Miss Joy's personal guardian.
My parents had accepted this as something I was going to do. They never stopped me or even asked me why I did it. It was as if they knew this was something I had to do.
The greatest Christmas ever was the Christmas Eve Miss Joy came to the door and opened it to wave. As soon as she waved, people scattered like they had received the preacher's blessing at church when it was time to go home.
For some reason, while she was turning to go back into the house; just as she was closing the door, she didn't close it. She turned back around and looked out directly at where I was standing.
All I was waiting for was for her to go in. I would know she was safe. Then I would go home to be with my family.
I wasn't expecting what happened next. Miss Joy motioned for me to come to her. I wasn't prepared for this. Guardians don't talk to those they stand watch for. The honor is in the watching, the service itself. I was satisfied just to do it.
When I got to her door, I said, "Yes Ma'am".
"Young man," she said. "How long have you been standing watch over me these many years?
How could she know I thought I was watching for her, I thought? And then I accepted there was really no way she could not know."
About ten years, Miss Joy," I said.
"Miss Joy, so you think that is my name, too, do you?" she asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," I said to her as politely as I knew how to.
"Young man, what is your name?" she asked.
"My name, you want to know my name?" the beautiful queen living among so many who are ordinary wants to know my name, I asked with surprise all in my voice.
"Yes, I would," she said.
"My name is Reca, (ray KAH) Reca Celar," (kay - LARR) I told her.
"Would you like to come in Reca?" she asked me.
Thinking to myself, I didn't know what to do or what to say. How do I enter this castle, this living shrine? It is not my place. Who am I to enter such a place?
"I am inviting you in Reca," Miss Joy said. "Well! Are you going to stand there and think about it and keep me in the cold or are you going to come in and learn about who you have been watching over all this time?" she asked.
I decided I should go in. When I got in, I didn't understand what I saw.
There was a very large room. In it was the beautiful Christmas Tree everybody could see through the window.
Seeing it on this side of the window caused it to lose something I enjoyed from the outside looking in. It was clear I was about to learn something I should have known but did not know.
The tree stood there alone, beautiful and bright, giving off the light that inspires and had inspired so many over the years living on the edge of poverty. Could this also be the life of Miss Joy, beautiful and inspiring, but alone behind these walls living in an open empty space?
While I was standing looking at the great tree, Miss Joy had gone in and out of the room without my notice. I really am some kind of a great watcher.
She had brought me tea, chamomile tea. She told me it would calm my spirit and we could talk. She led me into another room.
It was her small sitting room just off the great open and empty room. There she began just to talk to me and offered me lessons I yet am honored to live.
She told me that from this moment, I was relieved, as her watcher. It was time for another to come. I didn't like the sound of what I was hearing.She told me I had been faithful to my task without knowing why. I had stood watch without ever asking for anything. I didn't want to stop now. She knew my happiness had been to stand watch.
I wish there had been time to think between her sentences and just look at her. All I know is that I know now why I have watched over her all these years. I love her, not so much for her but what it does for me to love her.
I sipped on the tea and it did make me calm. From the inside out, I slowed. I breathed deeper. The deeper I breathed the calmer I became.
When it looked like I wanted to speak, she kissed her forefinger, touched it to my lips and just smiled, "shhhhh." I'm slain.
My eighteen years had not prepared me for feeling what I'm feeling. Feeling was what I had heard other people did who could afford it. Most people living on the edge of poverty couldn't afford the luxury of feelings. It cost too much.
She went on to tell me that it was time for me to go and be a watcher in the larger world. I didn't understand at first.
She told me the task would now require me to help beauty escape its prison walls to have its own life. I wondered where Miss Joy wanted me to take her. I would have done anything for her.
She said, "I would love to have left these walls a long time ago but I could not. It was mine to stay here and bring joy to others living on the edge of poverty in their minds."
"Reca," she said as she looked way past straight into my eyes, "what is in our minds, we make real.
Poverty like all others things is a great illusion that requires our agreement. I am sending you out now to convince many others not to agree and to step beyond their limits. More than anything I want you to help others know they can do anything they put their minds to.
In all of us the Creator has made women is much more than our capacity to serve and wait on everybody. We also deserve attention. We deserve to be served, loved and respected for what we think, what we dream and what we can do.
That is now your task, Reca Celar. Yours is to love the many, just like you have loved me, the one. Watch for them and teach them to watch for themselves and each other. Teach them by your example. Make friends with others who want to make this world a beautiful garden for all to enjoy without having to go to someone else's house to look for it. Teach them that beauty is already in them right where they are. You can do this. I know you can."
The strangest thing of all happened when she finished speaking. She stepped away again for a moment. This time she didn't bring more tea. She brought a sword.
"Kneel Reca Celar before all you have loved from childhood to manhood," she spoke sounding like royalty.
I found no reason not to trust Miss Joy, whose real name I do not yet know. I kneeled.
She touched the sword to my right and to my left. When she had finished, she prayed for me, for my protection as she sends me out to model the love I have learned watching over her.
She prayed for women who are left alone and forgotten about in the prisons of their solitary and lonely beauty. She prayed that they might be free to reach for their dreams.
She prayed for women who are different by color and design that they might know their own beauty and follow their hearts.When she was finished, she told me to rise.
She presented to me the Sword. She called it the Sword of Reca Celar. I bowed my head towards her in honor.
"Your real name Miss Joy, what is it?" I asked.
She leaned to whisper in my ear and spoke a name I am never to repeat but to myself when I am weary. I am alive in the most perfect moment. I have watched for no reward but the privilege to watch. This Christmas, the task has grown.
Miss Joy put her arms around me and kissed me. She hugged me and held me tight in her arms. She closed her eyes. Then I closed mine. It felt like we became one breath and one heartbeat.
An angel was hugging me. I am holding her, this wonderful warm and beautiful angel in my arms. I wanted to pinch myself to see if I was still real. The most beautiful woman in my world the whole world loves me. This love will last me a lifetime. I will live in this moment every moment and share it.
Her blessing was complete. I no longer stand alone on the outside looking in. From the living lips of power, Miss Joy has spoken me to love and life. My time has come. I have clear purpose I must live out. Miss Joy held my hand tight like she was never going to let it go even as she told me to go and love many like I love her. I am to free beauty from the gardens of aloneness and loneliness.
Her last request of me was to remember her with love. How could I not? These are the words she spoke so gently as if she breathed them directly into my heart, "When you experience beauty, remember me Reca. When you have quiet moments in your own garden, remember me, with love. Remember this night. Remember your sword. Remember your mission.
Remember this Christmas tree. All these and my love are Miss Joy's Christmas Gift to you.
This tree is an evergreen. It is a symbol of the eternal. Only what loves does lasts Reca. There is a world Reca that lies beyond the edge of poverty. It is a lovely evergreen garden world. Do not let what your eyes see or ears hear fool you. It is a lovely evergreen world.
Just like this Christmas tree is clothed in lights of many colors, so the lovely evergreen garden world is clothed in a coat of many colors. With the power and gift of your love, free beauty to live and to love. You can free beauty to be more than what people see and take from. You can free to live out her hopes and dreams. You can free beauty to be fully alive, to love and experience.
"Miss Joy's last words to me were the ones I knew would come and the ones I dreaded to hear most came when she said with waterfalls in her eyes, "I love you Reca Celar. Thank you for honoring me with your love. I will continue to be loved by you through your loving many others. Only what loves does lasts. Merry Christmas Reca Celar."
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