By Vickey Stamps
Once upon a long time ago,
in the land of pretense,
a small child floundered its way through life.
It’s name was Weed,
and truly it was an honestly come by name.
It bore no resemblance whatever, to its beautiful
and much sought after neighbor, Rose.
Rose’s every need was met,
and love abounded within her home.
Always in her life was warmth,
with just enough showers to create a happy balance.
Rose’s curiosity was never stifled,
nor ever did another make her
feel foolish or unwanted, in any way at all.
Rose’s colors were beautiful,
and became more so, with the passing of time.
There was no stranger to pass her way,
for she was a friend of all.
It mattered not their complexion,
nor status in the community.
She wanted to be friends with Weed,
but because of Weed’s feelings of inferiority,
ugliness, doubt and hopelessness,
the child, would almost always,
run away from her presence.
Weed felt ashamed of herself in all ways.
Surely as day follows the night,
Weed grew, unfortunately she felt more
unsightly, more unpleasant.
If tears could have nurtured her,
taller then treetops, would she have grown.
She might as well have been an orphan
for all the attention her parents gave her.
Yes, indeed there was a Mother and Father,
but they were far to busy with their own
travels and desires to care or do much for,
or with, this growing child.
Unfortunate, instead, they felt,
to have given birth to such as this.
To give them credit, they did meet Weed’s daily needs,
but no special occasions were observed.
No fancy decorations to brighten her dreary home.
There never seemed time to answer the questions
of growing up, nor pleasant laughter when some
happy event actually took place in her pitiful little life.
With the passing of time, and destiny being
what it is, both Rose and Weed, ventured
onward through life, eventually entering a place
known as “God’s Garden.”
Weed trembled and shrank away from
these most beautiful of creatures,
prepared to hide in the nearest corner she could find.
Surely she was not worth such a resting place as this.
Suddenly footsteps were felt approaching her.
A hand passed over, returning to rest
upon her head. A tender loving voice spoke out…
“Of all of these, you, the least, shall be the most.”
She was led to a shallow golden hued pond
and told to look at her reflection.
Oh, the wonderfulness of it all.
A miracle indeed.
The love that had touched her,
had also transformed her.
Once thought a weed, now found to be an Orchid…
simply touched by the Masters hand.