My Name Is Date Palm
Jeremiah 17:7-8 (NASB)
7 “Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord
And whose trust is the Lord. 8 “For he will be like a tree planted by the water, That extends its roots by a stream And will not fear when the heat comes; But its leaves will be green, And it will not be anxious in a year of drought. Nor cease to yield fruit.
My name means date palm.
In early April 2013, a storm began to rumble in the sky, rain! It’s the beginning of spring, with lightning and thunder, the rain fell. In my spirit I felt an urgency that was overwhelming. Thunder clapped in the sky, shaking the house. I sat at my kitchen table eating supper with my children, and I said, “does anyone else sense that?” No. “Okay well, something is coming,” I said, “and it’s not good.”
The winter winds began to howl…rain, thunder, and freezing cold winds…not a good sign. The rain started to freeze, and soon you could hear sleet hitting the house. Little white pebbles littered the yard, coupled with rain, and howling cold wind. At some point in the night the electricity went down setting in motion two days of no power in my home.
The next morning was a winter wonderland, quite picturesque actually. Everything was still a hushed silence covered the snow and ice packed streets. The sky was a daunting color of grey and the the trees overhead squeaked and cracked under the heavy pressure of the solid ice that encapsulated every branch. It reminded me of the movie Lord of the Rings when the hobbits were lost in the forest. I was waiting for the moment when the trees would pull up and begin to talk. Instead the massive limbs broke off and fell like rain under the pressure all throughout the city.
The streets were ice, and the driveway was frozen and snow packed. The temperatures got so low in my home without heat that I had to pack my kids up and sleep on couches at my employer’s office to stay warm. To top off the week my daughter, slammed into the back of a car as she drove down the road near her school totaling my SUV. It was a tough, tough season, and I felt miserably alone.
On Monday, I drove to work which required that I report to a local school for early morning ministry. As I sat at a table with a group of teenagers, the leader decided to do an “ice” breaker. I had just gotten my electricity on the day before, my SUV was totaled, and this guy wanted to talk about the meaning of everyone’s name.
Seriously?
I loathed my name; Tamera.
I despised the sound of my name.
I detested the meaning of my name.
I only heard my full name when I was in trouble with my mother (who had passed away years prior). Or when I was in class for my doctoral program. Other than that….no one said my full name. I used the name Tamera so infrequently it was only a couple of years ago that I realized I was spelling it wrong! My mother never told me! My name is supposed to be spelled: Tamara My teachers taught me, Tamera My mother never corrected me….No wonder everyone always mispronounces it! Names matter in the Bible; people were given names for a specific purpose. Honestly, I felt more like a child of Hosea and Gomer than I did a chosen child of God. You know the one that was "you're not mine."
My name means Date Palm.
"And your name means royal princess ooooh that’s so awesome!"
" And yours is pretty," "Oooh graceful," "Wow, God’s chosen."
Sigh. I really wanted to participate, I was glad for them, I truly was. But today was just not the day.
A young man was sitting next to me, a volunteer. He was originally from Ukraine and was not someone I got to chat with very often. I guess he heard me mumbling under my breath and the heavy sigh. He looked at me, and he said, “what’s your name mean?”
Heavy sigh, “date palm.”
“Date Palm?”
“Yes, date palm.”
“Ah wow like a palm tree?”
“Yep, a big date palm tree.” I said, slowly with emphasis.
“Well,” he said, “I know a story about palm trees that my pastor told us not too long ago. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes,” I said. Thinking I’ll do anything to disengage from the name game.
He turned to me and said, “In areas of the world where palm trees are standard the people will cut the palm trees and beat them.”
“Awesome,” I said, “that explains exactly how I’m feeling, this sounds like a great story.”
“No, no listen,” he said. “As the palm trees grow the people will beat them, and beat them, and beat them. They cut them back and cut them back. They allow them to suffer through the drought. After a certain period of time has passed they let them grow. They become the strongest trees in the land. Because of the beatings, the drought, and the cutting, the roots grow deep into the earth, so when the strong hurricane winds come the roots are so deep, the trees can withstand the storms and maintain even in the worst of conditions.”
And then he said, “this reminds me of Jeremiah 17:7-8” and I said almost simultaneously “Psalm 1.”
“Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD And whose trust is the LORD. 8 “For he will be like a tree planted by the water, That extends its roots by a stream And will not fear when the heat comes; But its leaves will be green, And it will not be anxious in a year of drought Nor cease to yield fruit.
Psalm 1:3 He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, Which yields its fruit in its season And its leaf does not wither; And in whatever he does, he prospers.
I was in tears, wow. Just as we finished the student leader of the group said, “let’s turn in our Bibles to Jeremiah 17:7-8!”
We turned and looked at each other and nodded, I said, “Okay God I’m listening.”
My name is Date Palm.
©2018 Tameras Grove ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
My life story was in the story of that palm tree, the physical and verbal attacks began the last day of kindergarten and continued through the sixth grade, after one kind woman finally stepped in and demanded change.
My parents had adopted 3 daughters, all of us mixed race from different biological families. As a young black child living with white parents in an all-white tiny country town, I was literally beaten on a daily basis. The boys would circle around me to throw sand in my afro, kick, spit, and hit. Teachers would tell me to stop being a tattle tale when I would cry, and the principle was annoyed by my “outbursts” when it became too much, and I begged for them to help me.
My parents were very hard-working people, but they drank every night my oldest sister, who had become quite mean and angry over the abuse she suffered turned her anger towards me. She would tease me every night at the supper table about how I thought I was black. So, every day I went to school and got beat and called a ni**er and then would come home to be called a whitey. My dad thought it was hilarious and would join in on the name calling it only stopped when my mom had enough of it.
The boys would wait for me after school, follow me home, beat, spit, kick, and punch. In the summers they would push me under the water at the pool and hold me under until the lifeguards would blow the whistle. It was constant torture – constant. I don’t know why I didn’t become angry like my oldest sister and lash out. My middle sister learned to adapt and became extremely popular due to her sporting skills, I wasn't much into that. I wish I would have been a fighter – and beat them back, but it wasn’t who I was and to be honest when a group of boys surrounds you on all sides with no backup – who do you hit first? I had no idea and when I asked my parents would say "just hit them back..." So much more to say about the other abuse that only got worse before it got better – but I will leave that for another day.
My name is Date Palm.
I don’t believe in coincidences I think that God ordains moments; this was definitely a God moment. With such beautiful detail God spoke profound revelation of my name over me in a school! Where the beatings began so many years ago, so much pain, so many lies, and word curses sweet TRUTH had entered in.
© TAMERAS GROVE ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
In my heart, I felt like He said, I was there with you then, I’m here with you now, your time has been redeemed. The beatings, the drought, the cutting back – none of it has gone to waste. I’m redeeming your time, I’m redeeming your school experience, I’m telling you who I see you as. You're not alone, you're surrounded and this time you're safe.
“You are Tamera, like a tree firmly planted by the streams, you are blessed because you trust in Me and I am your trust. Your roots extend by the streams you will not fear when the heat comes, you will produce in times of drought, you will not fear the drought, your children will not falter, and whatever you put your hand to – you will prosper.”
Recently I traveled to Israel I learned that the land of milk and honey does not refer to honey made by bees. It's honey produced by the dates from the groves of date palm trees located in Israel.
