His Master’s Garden
I wrote this little story the week of my daughter’s wedding:
Once upon a time, a young gardener was given seed from his Master. He didn’t know what kind of seed it was, but he planted, watered, and cared for it, and daisies began to grow. The young gardener had much to learn about taking care of daisies and, at times, made mistakes. But he worked hard to protect and nourish his Master’s garden, and in time the daisies flourished. There were other gardeners with other gardens, but the daisy garden was the brightest in all the land.
One day, when the full moon was made translucent by the afternoon sun, the Master came admiring His bright garden. The gardener was older now, hands worn and back bent from his work. His heart, however, was filled with joy because he loved the task his Master had given him.
“I now have other gardens for you to tend,” the Master said. “It is time to give this to another.”
“But my daisies,” said the gardener, “will he know how to care for them? What will become of my garden?”
The Master smiled. “All these years, it was your job to protect and tend my garden. You made some mistakes at first, but soon you learned how to care for the daisies. You worked hard for the garden you loved, but it was I who made the flowers grow. You had to trust me for the rain and sun. Won’t you trust me now? I have provided a new gardener and he will find ways to make your garden flourish even brighter. Trust me in this, like you have trusted me before.”
The gardener knew his Master was right and stepped outside the gate, looking back at his daisies. In his hand he held a new bag of his Master’s seed. “Could I plant nearby, in case I’m needed?” he asked.
“You will never be too far from the work I have given you,” the Master said.
So the gardener started his new plot close by and smiled when he saw the young gardener working with the daisy field. For many years he watched it flourish under the young man’s care. And the old gardener was pleased with his Master’s wisdom.
copyright Jim W. Smith 2012
My daughter Anne always observes rather sarcastically “You’re getting sentimental again.” I think parents do this.
I liked this and really liked what your dad would say.
Thank you, Jan. I guess I get a bit sentimental about my daughter
Loving you through tears of happiness and sadness.
No need for sadness. As Dad would say, all is well in the Reich.