The Boy and His Flowers

There once was a boy who lived in a house by a green pasture. Every day he walked into the field and saw the grass growing. The grass was bright and green and beautiful, and the boy loved the grass very much. One day, a flower appeared �" small and weak �" and the boy’s eyes lit up, bright like the petals. And he watched as the flower grew and he made a bond with the frail plant. Then, another flower grew right by it. And then another one. Several flowers grew amongst the grass, and the boy was very happy. During a January morning, the boy watched the flowers blowing in the wind. He walked to the oldest one �" which had grown big and strong �" and caressed it. He loved the flower so much he hugged it but pulled too hard and ripped it from the soil. The boy tried to push it back in �" tried to undo his mistake �" but it was too late. And the wind had grown cold. And the boy watched as some of the flowers began to leave the earth and disappear elsewhere in the large pasture. Two flowers remained and the boy brought water to the one nearest the house. It was sickly and death loomed from above, blocking the sun. No matter how much water the boy gave the flower, it continued to whittle before his eyes. So the boy turned to the final flower, the youngest one that he had just met, as it began to blow away. He grabbed it with all his might but felt as his last flower �" his last chance �" slipped away. The flowers had all left him. And he felt his heart shatter inside his chest.

 

Time had passed and the boy, older and wiser, had learned his lesson. A new flower stuck its head out of the grass and looked at the boy. The flower watched and smiled as the boy walked up and stepped on it, crushing the petals that once matched the shimmer in his eyes.  No longer will he allow the flowers to grow just to hurt him �" to die on him, to leave him.

 

I pray that you are not that flower. But most of all, I pray that you are not that boy.