Poetry

[abstrktion]

This isn't "poetry," but it's of a literary genre...I wrote it for friends at Christmastime...a little parable. I have my own "meaning"--but I think it could have different meanings to different people and I'd love to hear any that you'd be willing to share.

The Parable of the Growers

Once upon a time in a land very close to where we all live, two growers tended their orchards. Both men worked hard and cared greatly for the trees under their care.

One day, the Lord of the Valley returned from a far land and brought with him gifts for all of his people. To the growers, he gave two trees unlike anything they had ever seen.

"Take each of you one tree. Nurture it and care for it and it will bring forth fruit more sweet and filling than any fruit you have ever tasted."

"How will we know when the fruit is ripe?" asked the first grower.

"We do not know the color of this foreign fruit nor its softness when fully ripe," added the second grower.

"When you place your hand under the fruit and it drops of its own accord, it is ripe." replied the Lord of the Valley.

Both growers hurried home to plant their trees. And the trees both began to grow, nurtured and loved by the conscientious growers.

And the good growers cared for their trees, marveling at the mystery and majesty of Nature, watching in wonder as both trees stretched forth their limbs, uncurled their leaves, and finally blossomed.

At length, the trees began to bear. And each morning, the growers would place their hands under the fruit to see if it was ripe.

And each morning, the first grower would shrug when the fruit didn’t fall and then go about tending the other trees.

And each morning the second grower would become more worried. He began to spend more and more of his time caring for the one special tree, fretting that he had left something undone. So he gave it more water—or less water—or trimmed its branches—or stabilized the branches with poles--or added fertilizer—or withheld fertilizer.

Many days passed.

The orchard of the first grower came ready to harvest. He invited the people of the valley to come and savor the first fruits of the season. But the fruit of the special tree was not yet ripe. And so he waited.

The orchard of the second grower was also ready to harvest, but it was not as it had been. He had devoted so much of himself to the special tree that the others had been neglected and were unable to give as much fruit as they had in the past. This made him even more anxious about the special tree.

“When do you think the fruit will be ripe?” the second grower asked the first grower one morning.

“I cannot tell,” said the first grower.

“Do you think the Lord of the Valley tricked us? The season has passed and the fruit is not yet ripe,” the second grower stated.

“I cannot know the timing of the tree nor the intentions of the Lord of the Valley,” replied the first grower, “but I have faith in both.”

The second grower muttered under his breath and stalked away. That night he slept on a mat under his special tree.

“I have let my other trees dwindle and given everything to you,” he accused the tree.

“I had little harvest because I counted on you, believed in you, and cared for you above all other things,” he accused the tree.

The tree did not reply, but a keen observer would have seen it lean towards him in sympathy and love.

The grower tried to sleep, but sleep did not come.

He placed his hand under the fruit, but the fruit did not fall.

He cursed the day that the Lord of the Valley had given him the tree and vowed he would never again try to make the fruit fall.

But the next morning, he went again to the tree. He placed his hand under the fruit. It did not drop.

“Enough!” he cried, seizing a piece of the fruit and tearing it from the tree.

He looked at it for a moment, surprised that he now held it in his hand. Then he brought it to his mouth and attempted to take a bite.

The fruit was hard and unyielding and bitter. He threw it on the ground and spit the fruit out of his mouth.

“You are a bad tree with sour fruit! I should never have spent such care and devotion on you! You are unworthy of my attention!”

He went to get his ax.

Within a quarter hour, he had destroyed the tree and hacked it to pieces. Just then, the first grower came out to check his tree.

“What have you done?” the first grower exclaimed in horror.

“It was a bad tree with sour fruit. We have labored in vain.” the second grower snarled and stalked off.

Many more days passed.

The first grower continued to check his tree each day.
And the second grower came out to watch him check his tree each day.

And then it happened. The fruit dropped into the first grower’s hand. He tasted it. And truly it was the sweetest, most filling fruit he had ever tasted. The first grower wanted to share his joy with the second grower.

He called to him, “You must come and taste this.”

The second grower hesitated, but at last couldn’t resist. He went to the tree. The fruit dropped in his hand. He put it to his mouth. It was as the first grower had said.

“You are fortunate,” he said with some bitterness, “the Lord of the Valley gave you the good tree.”

Just then the Lord of the Valley came up behind the two men. “The two trees were grafted from the same parent tree. There was no difference between them. Both would have borne fruit of great worth, had both been allowed the time to grow and ripen in their own time.”

The second grower looked to the patch of earth where his tree had once stood. He lowered his head, "I could not wait, and now all is lost."

The first grower came over and put an arm around his shoulder. “Nothing is lost forever,” he said.

“You only say that because your tree is full and ready to harvest.”

“No,” said the Lord of the Valley, “he says it because it is true. Look.”

The two growers looked where the Lord of the Valley pointed.

A small green shoot was already pushing its way up from the spot where the second grower’s tree had been.


And Time passed and at length the tree grew from shoot, to sapling, to mature tree. And the second grower watched over it carefully and with great affection while tending the rest of his orchard. For having lost it once, he cherished it all the more.

And as he watched, the tree brought forth buds, and the buds turned to blossoms, and the blossoms opened wide and grew into soft, white, round fruit.

And after he had harvested all of his other trees, he came before the special tree. “I once tried to force my will upon you. I once tore you down and broke up your lovely limbs. I have no right to your fruit, but I will ask anyway and hope you can forgive me.”

He did not know it, but the tree had never been angry; it had only sorrowed that it had been unable to give the second grower what he had so desired. It attempted to lean out a branch to the grower, who thought the branch had just been moved by the wind.

The second grower stretched forth his hand. The fruit dropped.
He looked at it for a moment, marveling in its beauty and perfection. Tears welled up in his eyes. He partook of the fruit, and truly, it was the most sweet and filling of all things he had ever tasted.

And quite suddenly the Lord of the Valley was there next to him. The second grower looked at him with gratitude and greater understanding, “It is as you had said.”

The Lord of the Valley smiled, and there was Light in his eyes, “Sometimes that which doesn’t seem to have value or goodness is only unripe, and, if given time, will grow into something more beautiful and perfect than what was initially desired.”

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven… [God] hath made every thing beautiful in his time” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 11).

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of which is not seen...By faith Enoch was translated that he should not see death; and was not found, because God had translated him" (Hebrews 11:1, 5).