Forget-Me-Not by Elanour Sinclair Rodhe

Forget-Me-Not by Elanour Sinclair Rodhe
How satisfying the old flower names are, and how true. 
Forget-me-not preserves the memory of a beautiful old 
legend. There came a day when the Heavenly Father 
bestowed on all the flowers their names. But a pale blue 
flower, a little dreamer, forgot her name. She looked in 
the clear water at her feet and up to the blue Heaven 
above her, but try as she would she could not remember. 

When night came on, and the stars shone out, it filled 
her with wonder to think that her Heavenly Father knew 
the number of those dazzling myriads in the infinite 
gardens of Heaven, and called them all by their names. 
 'I cannot remember my name. Do you know it ? ' she 
whispered to one of the fairest stars. ' Not yet,' said the 
star, gazing down on the exquisite beauty of his new 
little sister on earth.  But our Heavenly Father knows your 
name. Ask Him and He will tell you.' In the morning 
when she woke she saw a group of daisies near her throw- 
ing back their lovely crimson-tipped petals to be kissed 
by their big brother the Sun. 'Do you remember your 
name ? for I have forgotten mine,' she said to one of them, 
a gay little fellow with more crimson tips on his petals 
than any of the others. 'I did not hear your name,' he 
replied, but ask our Heavenly Father and He will tell 
you. We are daisies. What other name could be ours, for 
see how like we are to our big brother.' And he turned 
his laughing little face up to the Sun. 

In the cool of the evening God walked in the garden. 
In time He came to the little blue flower and with adoring 
love and wonder she beheld His face. Presently she said 
very humbly, 'Alas ! that I should have forgotten the 
name Thou gavest me.' The Heavenly Father smiled on 
her, but He did not tell her the name she had forgotten. 
He answered her, 'Forget-ME-not.' 

The little blue flower was silent with happiness. So 
beautiful a name would have crowned the furthest star 
in the Heavens, yet her Heavenly Father had chosen to 
bestow it on a little flower of this earth. The forget-me- 
not is still a dreamer. Through the centuries she dreams 
and forgets continually, but she does not forget her name. 
So earnestly does she obey her Heavenly Father's com- 
mand that not only is the blue of Heaven in her petals, 
but something of its peace and joy as well. And to all 
who look on her she gives a peculiar joy.