The Garden

In an unassuming corner of abundantly lush garden on a warm late Thursday afternoon a little plant produced a beautiful flower, spectacular in its colour and fragrance. The plant had invested all of his effort and strength in to producing such a glorious flower over the summer. It brought him so much joy over lazy sunny afternoons, admiring his work. Its heady scent enticed countless visitors from around the garden to come rest upon it, filling themselves with its sweet nectar. They would fly away carrying its pollen, like emissaries sent off too far away lands telling stories of what a marvel his flower was to behold.

The plant was very proud of his achievement and continued to pour his strength into maintaining his flowers beauty. So much so in fact that no other flowers grew, the rest of his branches remained bare.

One morning, late in summer and after an inclemently cold night the plant awoke to find his treasured flower had wilted and died, its delicate petals lay crestfallen on the soil below. His heart broke. How could this have happened? he cried to himself. Stricken with grief at his loss and in disbelief of his own negligence in sleeping through that cold night and not attending to his beautiful flower he summoned all of his strength and set to reviving his beloved. Perhaps he could bring it around before the rest of the garden was awake. All morning he tried, channeling his focus but nothing came, if anything it shrank away even more. All throughout that day he toiled and on all the days that followed. The more attention he gave to its revival the harder and more encrusted the dead flowers remains became, all its colour had now drained. The little plant however, defiant and fuelled by the memory of the flowers majestic beauty and what joy it brought to him and others, soldiered on, doubling his efforts.

In the months that followed the plant noticed that by lacking his beautiful flower less and less visitors passed by until one day, no visitors passed by at all. At the time the little plant missed their company of course but resolved that feeling in the understanding that this was fine as it would result in less distractions so he could increase his efforts in the revival department. When his job was done, a success, they would all return.

As the days of summer rolled past no other flowers grew on his branches.

Summer descended into Autumn and Autumn into winter and as the rest of the garden hunkered down too hibernate the cold dark days and nights ahead, there was one that didn’t sleep. All through the winter months the plant tried ceaselessly to breathe life back into his flower. So much so that the plant himself almost died, had it not been for an unexpected early Spring the next year, he would never have made it.

With the warm light of Spring the garden slowly awoke, leaves unfurled and birds sang. Even our determined little plant , weakened to the point of death by his endeavours throughout the winter could feel sunlight renewing his tired and aching limbs.

What luck! The plant thought to himself, the sun of an early Spring is providing me new strength for my quest, it must know I can do it, it believes I me!

So he continued on with his now imagined support.

It’s safe to say that by this point the other plants in the garden, insects too, viewed the little plants situation quite differently. They were dually impressed by his relentless and courageous efforts to re-muster his flower but saddened by those same efforts going unrewarded. They too had been awed by the flowers fragrance and beauty, perhaps some even a little jealous, but even the jealous ones now took pity on the little plants futile attempts as he too was part of their garden.They could see how weak he had become but could also see that there was no quit in him, which they in turn feared would eventually lead to his demise.

One sunny Sunday morning a woman walked into the Garden, it was God. She walked contentedly through her garden, pleased to see all the new life awakening to Spring’s warm hand. Delight filled her heart as she imagined how this garden would develop and blossom over the summer.

Her moment of bliss however was suddenly and subtly interrupted. Somewhere beneath the sounds of the birds that had so proudly sang her arrival, beneath the sound of the bees buzzing, already diligently carrying out their duties (not wanting to be caught napping when Gods in town), even beneath the sound of Damsel flies beating wings and under the sound of his beating heart… she heard her little plants longing for his flower and the pain he bore over losing it.

As an experienced gardener she was all too aware of the little plants dilemma and the heartache he must have endured over the winter by losing such beauty in his life but also knew that by continuing his endeavours in such a way that he would eventually wither and die himself.

She followed the almost silent sound of his sorrow across the garden to where the little plant sat and knelt down beside him. The little plant, half delirious with exhaustion, looked up at her with desperation in his eyes.

“Please help me revive my flower, it was everything I had and everything that I am” he pleaded to her.

“Or free me from having to feel the pain in losing that which was so dear to me, uproot me and end my suffering” the little plant implored.

God leant forward, with kindness in her eyes, love in her smile and a pair of seasoned but very well maintained gardening scissors in her hand. She whispered to the little plant

“This won’t hurt a bit”

and with that cut away the dead flowers remains in a concise and exacting ’snip’!

If you were to visit that garden today, you would see the little plant thriving. Many flowers now blossom from his branches.