One White Lily

I remember sitting on the floor of my bedroom, sobbing into my hands, as I thought about the state of the world. It horrified me. I was fifteen, and the world that I thought I knew was on fire. Death tolls racked up into the hundreds as Hurricane Katrina ripped through New Orleans. Serial killers and rapists were a constant story on the news my parents watched at night. War was ever-present. It seemed that everywhere I turned, there was sorrow, despair, death, and wickedness.

My world, which had once only consisted of my family, my schoolmates, and my community, was beginning to expand as I tried to wrap my mind around the state of humanity. As I thought deeply about death, destruction, and evil for the first time in my young life, my mind turned to the daunting task of someday trying to raise children in this wicked world. My sobs shook my body with heart-shattering grief, knowing that I could only fail. How would I ever be able to guide them, when I was just as lost? How could I teach them how to be upstanding citizens in a world where wickedness is praised and virtue is a weakness? How could I possibly raise a child in some not-so-distant future, in a near-apocalyptic world that would no doubt be even more overwhelmingly evil than it already was?

Through my soul-wracking sobs of despair, I heard the doorbell ring. I ignored it, until my parents called out my name. Timidly (and with a tear-stained face), I came out of my room and went to the front door. Standing in our doorway was our neighbors, an elderly couple. The woman held out a single white lily. She explained that she felt a strong urge to pick this lily and deliver it to me, specifically. My mouth gaped open. That white lily was an answer to an un-voiced prayer. During my time of despair and hopelessness, someone was listening. That white lily, in my mind, sent one clear message, a message that I had been desperate to hear and one that I have never forgotten: There is still good in the world. Don’t give up hope.