"The Orphan Girl in the Graveyard" by Eugene Delacroix
My son Ben is a missionary in the Southwest. Mostly he teaches Hispanic people. He loves them and he loves serving the Lord. Early in his service he was assigned to a rather desolate town called Chaparral, New Mexico. It's a grey hard-panned dusty place where the missionaries are happy when a dust storm blows because it means the people will take pity on them and let them in the door of the trailer (everybody lives in a trailer). As Ben says, they knew the name of every living plant in the city.
Ben has been gone from Chaparral for almost 8 months, having done a stint in Tucson. Now he is back in El Paso and has opportunity to visit his old areas. We had written him and asked what he wanted for Christmas. He wrote:
"This year, I am asking all of my friends for a very special Christmas present.
As you may know, I am a missionary for the LDS church serving in El Paso, Texas. About a year ago I had the opportunity to teach a family and help them come unto Christ. Just recently I went back and visited this single mother and her daughter and found them in despair and distanced from the teachings of Jesus Christ. The daughter had even recently attempted to commit suicide.
I noted that they had no friends to help them stay firm in the church or give them comfort.
Upon returning home from seeing this I wrote this poem.
What I want for Christmas is for you to read this poem and reflect upon how you might better help the down-trodden and those in despair and then put that into action. Then write me a letter and let me know how it went. Thank you so much and may God bless you in your efforts to serve others in this Christmas season. Sincerely, Elder Ben Wilson."
Here is Elder Wilson's Poem entitled
"On Zion's Walls"
"On Zion's Walls"
The air is brisk, the stars are out
And lights are glowing dim.
I watch atop the city walls
And see the peace within.
The town is safe from fear and harm
And all can act as though
There was no raging war without,
Inside—no fear of foe.
I feel content, my heart at peace,
To think what I have done.
For I’ve brought some within the walls
Before the setting sun.
I've saved them from the enemy
Who in the darkness hides.
He seeks to hurt, to kill and break---
The father of all lies.
But as I watch, I hear approach
The sound of hurried feet,
And see a single, lonely lamp
Below me in the street.
I call out “The woods are dark,
The hour is growing late.
Tell me now what brings you here
Before the city gate?
“I beg you not to leave behind
The safety of the light,
The enemy is on the move
And watches in the night.
He seeks for souls who dare to leave
The protection of this place.
Do not go out—do not go out!
Don’t make this choice in haste.”
The footsteps cease, the lantern’s raised
And through the night I see
A young girl’s tear-stained, shadowed face,
A face well known to me.
It’s the orphan girl who weeks ago
I’d brought into the light,
Now standing there with lamp in hand.
My heart stops at the sight.
Her face is set, her eyes on guard;
I see there fear and doubt.
Her fists clench hard,
I hear her say,
“What enemy without?
It’s not so bad, the place I was
Before you brought me here.
I had my friends to comfort me,
To bring me needed cheer.
Your walled-off city is too cold,
I have no friends in there.
So thank you for the pleasant stay.
Don’t worry, have no fear;
I know you tried to help me…but
I must be on my way.”
I try to speak, to yell, to plead,
But fear my throat has bound.
So through the gates into the night
She slips without a sound.
For days I pray and watch and wait
For a miracle from above,
Until I finally realize
The miracle is love.
And then my prayer becomes a plea
For strength in present need
And with some fear, but ever hope,
I mount upon my steed.
I charge into that bitter realm
And tear on through the night--
Keep riding, riding without heed,
Till I see morning’s light.
Then through those dim and fragile beams
I see upon the ground
A lonely, sorry, broken child;
My orphan girl is found.
Her face is lined, her cloak is torn,
Her arms show battle scars.
Her hope and light and laugh and love
Gone out like dampened fires.
Upon the ground, I bend my knee
And give the girl my arm.
“It’s over now, the night is passed;
Come where you’re safe from harm.
The world is cruel outside the gates
And though now all looks black,
You have a place within the walls.
Oh, orphan girl, come back.”
And here's what Nana knows: This poem got to me. I guess it's not the kind of poetry your teacher would have you study in English class, not sophisticated. But it got to me. It came from such real, raw emotion.
It got to me so much I did something about it.
Now go and do thou likewise. You'll be glad you did.Merry Christmas
And here's one of my boy.
Oops. No, here he actually is, pulling out vicious roots with his bare hands.
