EDELWEISS

 

Did the title make you think back half a century to a sweet little song in the hit musical, "The Sound of Music"? I admit that the lullaby-like "Edelweiss" was one of my favorites, along with the Do-Re-Me song through which star "Maria" (Julie Andrews) taught her charges how to sing.  And I have something in my jewelry box to remember it: a real edelweiss on a necklace from Switzerland, homeland of my maternal aunt's husband. It's how I remember my Aunt Agnes, who spent much of her life teaching in Panama,  and where she and Uncle Willy met and married--both employees of a banana plantation.

But what of the edelweiss? Yes, it's a mountain flower that belongs to the daisy or sunflower family. But it prefers thin, cool air: rocky limestone places at about 5,900-9,800-feet altitude. Yes, high, rugged places. It blooms only between July and September. The hardy people who lived in the Alps and Carpathian mountains used it for traditional medicines to treat abdominal and respiratory diseases. But they had to search hard for it. It was scarce and short-lived. It eventually became a national symbol of those mountain countries, which of course included Austria, the setting for “The Sound of Music.” Embroidered likenesses of the flower decorated many military badges—thus the veiled message behind the film's Austrian military leader (“Captain Von Trapp”) who sang the song with his musical family before a daring escape from the Nazis.

Oh yes, it's associated with royal love. In 1856 the Austrian emperor Franz Joseph and his wife, Empress Elisabeth, went on a high mountain hike. He picked an edelweiss from a steep rock just for her. In 1865 the empress posed for a portrait with diamond jewelry depicting edelweiss in her hair.

I also think about this flower when I read a favorite old book, Hannah Hurnard's “Hind's Feet on High Places,” a classic fictional “journey” about growing in the Christian walk. Set in Switzerland, it draws lessons from the gorgeous scenery and scary aspects of alpine living. The author described “pure white flowers through whose half-transparent petals the sun shone, turning them to burning whiteness. In the heart of each flower was a crown of pure gold” (Tyndale/Living Books edition, paperback, p. 191). She didn't use the name “edelweiss” but the description fit. The author likened the flowers to heaven's “cloud of witnesses” in Hebrews 12:1. She also wrote that such alpine flowers "speak of the beautiful loving-kindnesses and tender mercies which [God} wants to shower on others through us" (p. 287).

About the time I was writing this blog, I heard from my nephew David, who enjoys metal crafting with around-the-shop things like nuts. He sent a photo of a metal flower he'd created for a family member. I remarked that if he'd done it in white and yellow, it would have some resemblance to an edelweiss. A few weeks later, here came one as a gift! I'm keeping it on my desk as a reminder that when I go through life's exhausting climb to eternity, it's the high places, where the going is tough (and the most beautiful blossoms of hope and trust grow), that bring me closer to sensing God's presence.

It's a truth I encounter often in scriptures. I'm to be rooted in Christ Jesus (Col. 2:7), depending on Him instead of my inadequate coping skills. Enduring hardship (like those alpine flowers enduring storms and thin soil) is part of following Christ (2 Tim. 4:5). And in the end, perseverance in trials will have its reward: the "crown of life that God has promised to those who love him" (James 1:7). That's the best analogy for these hardy, crown-like blooms.

Some years ago, someone wrote hymn words to the Edelweiss tune. I really liked them, and wrote them down in my devotional journal. The same for a spiritual adaptation of the "Do-re-me" song from that film. But I have learned I cannot share them in print because of copyright rules with heavy penalties.(1) Sorry. But someday, when Heaven voids all those man-made copyright rules, maybe they'll be among the praise songs we sing with robust voices, around the throne of God. “Sing a new song unto the Lord” we're told in various scriptures.* I can hardly wait.

*Psalms 33:3, 96:1, 98:1, 144.9, Isaiah 42:10.

1. Here is a discussion of the tune infringement: Discipleship Ministries | “Edelweiss” - A Song We Love But Must Not… (umcdiscipleship.org)

Roots and blisters

I made a blistering attack against our lawn dandelions the other week.  Yes, “blistering,” for my garden “poker” gouged a large, painful blister in my palm. Despite my best efforts, most of the roots broke off mid-way down, giving then a second chance to bloom. Indeed, they did, their sunny heads turning to airborne seeds that laughed “Gotcha” before I could attack the offspring. Oh, those rascal roots of our fallen, weedy world. I’m grateful the Bible gives us another picture of good roots: “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love…” (Ephesians  3:17).
 

Rooted in love.  That was big on Paul’s mind as he reflected on his ministry of taking the Gospel message to Gentiles—that is, the rest of the non-Jewish world. I like how the Amplified New Testament  opens up the English equivalents of the original Greek of this text:  “May Christ through your faith [actually] dwell—settle down, abide, make His permanent home—in your hearts! May you be rooted deep in love and founded securely on love.”

I recently read a helpful word picture of “rootedness” while reading Leighton Ford’s book The Attentive Life. He told of the day he and a friend took a hike and came to two hardwood trees perched on top of a large boulder. Unable to draw sustenance from rock, the trees had grown a long root system that snaked over the boulder to the soil below. “As we looked at this ingenious root system, it seemed to pose a question: What is the root system of my life?  Is it deep and wide and long and strong enough to withstand the pressures of each day?" (The Attentive Life, IVP,2008, p.82).

 

Paul adds to the picture of “love roots” in this passage:  “Just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness” (Colossians 2:7).  The result of “love roots” is the flower of gratitude!  I re-read that verse after an blistering encounter with an ungrateful person who has some significant "anger" roots. That person's high on my prayer list!

But thankful for dandelions? Okay, I can find some reasons. They're  a cheerful yellow that begs to be picked for a bouquet for mommy.  Doing that is a rite of passage for little children, right?  Plus, I’m due to teach my toddler grandson the fine art of blowing off their woolly seed heads. I’ll try to time it so the wind doesn’t blow them into my neighbor’s yard!