Whenever I see a purple iris, I remember my friend Iris.
Not every queen ever sees the thrones of this word -- many are not interested in the games that have to be played to sit upon those thrones. Nonetheless, when I think of the dignity of a true friend, mother, a wife, a grandmother, an aunt, and a servant to the community, I think of my friend Iris.
Iris never had much money. Not that great amounts of money did not pass through her hands. Iris was industrious and always knew how to pull money out of a situation legally. She was not afraid of work, and less afraid of seeing opportunity to meet needs and get paid doing it. She had all kinds of artistic talent, the type that could go onto the concert stage and into the museum, but instead is spread out in a thousand people or more, who were taught by Iris or for whom who she did beautiful things just to improve their lives and give them a chance to thrive.
But back to money -- Iris always had it passing through, but she never had a surplus for long before she found out there was a real need in the community. She gave, without worrying about it. I used to fuss with her about it, worried about her being a widow and what she would need, but she would always tell me, "Always remember: God owns everything, sweetheart, and He loves it when His children share. You share, and God keeps sharing with you to keep sharing with others."
Iris never went without. Others shared with her. She never lacked anything she needed. She didn't need many things. She loved seeing the people around her thrive, and that made her happier than riches ever would. "You don't get it, sweetheart," she would tell me. "Money is power, but not while you have it balled up in your hands. It's power when you can get it out to do what you want to do -- and baby, my money is doing what I want right along with me!"
Iris reigned in life. She was powerful. She put her talent and her skill and her money into the success of her family and community, and we are thriving still because of her.
When I see a purple iris, I think about the difference between how we look at people and who they really are. My friend Iris was a humble woman in the eyes of the world. But for those of us who knew her, we saw the beauty, the dignity, the glory of the life she shared fully with us.
I know Iris is still having a grand time in life, revealed for who God really made her to be in the eternal springtime of Heaven. The world is colder now that she is not here. But Iris left good seed. Time for us to make it grow.
Photo Credit: Deeann D. Mathews [the author], in the unseasonably warm December of 2017
