BUSHES – BUDS - BLOOMS

Jose Fulano had gone through 15 cycles of dry and wet seasons of the year. Tonight he sat by his bed trying to remember the first day his mother took him to the small vegetable garden behind the humble home which Jose, his three brothers and two sisters shared with his father, mother and grandmother. Patiently, his mother had shown him how to know the difference between a plant springing into life and a weed. Joy filled his heart the year she handed him some precious seeds and sent him out on his own to put them into the freshly cultivated soil.

After 10 cycles of wet and dry seasons Jose was taken from the secure feelings he had gained when working in the small vegetable garden behind the home and followed his father and his two older brothers to work with the coffee plants on the hills which surrounded their little home and the small garden.

Jose’s years now became filled with the long process required to change the small coffee plants which had grown in the bedding area, transferring them carefully into the polycover planting bags and replanting them into the most shaded area of their land and then after six months, moving them to the coffee plantation where, if they survived, they would remain until time to go to the part of the plantation where they would finally, after three or four years, begin to flower and produce beans.

It excited Jose to think that those little plants he had so carefully watered when he first was taken to the plantation by his father were now abundantly producing the beans which, when dried, brought all the wonderful things into his family’s life.

For many years he had watched his father and then his older brothers lead the three little burros down the trail away from the plantation on the way to trade at the pueblo in the valley far below. Today his father had told him that in the morning it would be Jose who would be taking the three small, heavily loaded burros to the village tomorrow.

He awakened even earlier on that special morning, with his father’s instructions revolving endlessly through his head. He felt as if he had gone down the trail many times, found the buyer of beans and then gone to the market with his certificates to trade for the needed essentials for the family. In reality this would be the first time his foot prints would be found on the narrow winding path leading down to the pueblo below.

As Jose rounded a small bend in the path he saw a bush which looked like it was filled with red berries peeking through their velvety green coverings. His breakfast potato and corn soup had long ago worn off and he quickly filled his bag with the harvested berries. He hadn’t gone much further down the path when he pulled a berry from his bag and, pulling back the velvety green covering, bit into the berry. Bitterness filled his mouth and he felt that even with its redness this berry wasn’t ripe yet. Pulling berry after berry from his bag, repeated peeling and biting only brought repeated bites of bitterness. Discouraged, Jose emptied the rest of the berries from his bag beside the trail and looking at his arms which were scratched and even bleeding in a few places, wondered why such a plant would exist. It was painful to pick and brought fourth only bitter fruit.

Two days later, after faithfully following his father’s instructions and loading the small donkeys with the goods he had traded for, Jose returned to the small path leading to his humble home and the joys he shared with his wonderful family. When he passed the brutal bitter fruit bush in the small bend Jose once again wondered about the purpose for the existence of such a plant.

At the end of the next dry season Jose was once again instructed by his father on the impending trading trip. The beans were dried, the bags were loaded on the small donkeys and Jose once again found his feet moving slowly along the winding path to the little pueblo in the valley below. When Jose rounded the small bend and saw the brutal bush with its bitter berries he felt his arms throb as if they were once again experiencing the pain of the previous year.

Jose following his father’s instruction perfectly had another successful trading trip and two days later found himself climbing the trail leading to his humble home and the joys he shared with his wonderful family. As he approached the small bend where the brutal bitter fruit bush grew, Jose’s arms began to tingle. When Jose rounded the bend a wondrous sight filled his vision. The brutal plant was now clothed with a robe of red. Jose halted the small donkeys and paused to inhale the wonderful smells which seemed to float off of the red robe of beautiful roses. The tingles of pain in his arms were now replaced with tingles of joy about the beauties of the creations of God.

That evening when the family settled outside their humble home to exchange the joys they had felt and experienced that day, Jose related his experience with the brutal bush during the trade journeys of the last two years.

After listening with great interest his father asked Jose if he might say a few things about his story. Jose was anxious to hear his father’s comments and all the family gathered just a little closer. There had been other times when their father had wanted to make additional comments and the family knew his words would be filled with great wisdom.

He started by reminding Jose about his days at his mother’s side carefully caring for the small garden behind their humble home. He asked Jose what would have happened if he pulled up a plant while weeding the garden. Jose replied that the plant would never bring fourth the bounty it was created to produce.

Jose’s father then reminded him about the long process of preparing a coffee plant before it was finally ready to flower and produce beans. He asked Jose what would have happened if they had not put the small tender plants in the bedding area or moved them directly to the part of the plantation where the mature plants were, or if they had not carefully put them into polycover planting bags or if they had not harvested or if they had lost patience with the drying of the beans.

Last of all, he asked Jose, what would have happened if he had plucked the buds from the rose bush this year as he had done the year before.

Jose’s answer was always the same. The plants in the small garden would not produce the sweet foods for our table, we would never gain the wonderful things which bring added joy to our family if we didn’t carefully and patiently take the coffee plants through the steps until they were mature enough to begin to flower and produce beans, if I had once again picked the buds before they blossomed I would never have beheld the beautiful sweet smelling red robe.

Jose’s father then addressed the whole family, remember, remember my children there are essential and important stages which all of our Heavenly Father’s children must go through. If we impatiently try to rush that process or try to experience the fruit before it ripens or pick the buds before they flower, we will not be able to experience the full purposes which we were sent to have along the trail of mortality. We will have hunger in our souls rather than being filled. We will miss experiences which would have added to our growth. We will certainly miss many of the beautiful and marvelous sights which have been created to bring us joy in mortality.

The sun dipped below the mountain and the family retired to their mats and hammocks.

Jose didn’t remember when he finally stopped looking into the brilliant night heaven. He slipped from awake to sleep with thoughts of patience, love, avoiding unnecessary painful experiences and trying not to hasten the process he was sent to earth to fulfill in preparation to return as a completed work to that Father in Heaven who had planted him in goodly soil and given clear instructions as how he
might return matured and fruitful.