7/20/16 A Weed Named Rose? (Parable)

    This here is a tale of Billy Joe a Rose, and pride.  Billy Joe thought himself a smart man, thought he could change things if he applied himself as he was capable of doing.  One mellow afternoon about five years ago he decided to venture on a fool's errand.  After watching Rudy one too many times perhaps, and thinking he could change the world, he gathered his tools and went to planting and growing the most beautiful rose in all the land.  He would be proud of his rose, after all, he had grown other things and likened himself to a man with a green thumb.  He was familiar with this type of plant they grew all around him, he insisted this one to be different.  Scholars, thieves and lawyers all told him otherwise, they said you are trying to grow a weed in an expensive vase, it is a waste of time.  There is no point to putting so much energy into such an ordinary plant, look they grow by the side of the road, he paid them no mind.  He had gathered the best soil, and the purest water, only the most pristine minerals and only the best display case would do.
    But every season it seemed like the same thing, what looked promising in the beginning, always turned to one excuse or another.  He laid the blame upon himself and swore he would make the necessary changes, whatever it took, he would be right.  Another season would pass, this year it was the water, too much.  He got an idea, I will put my flower to compete in a smaller fair, less pressure, maybe she will finally bloom like I know she can.  Nope, even at the amateur level, when the sun shone the brightest on her green leaves, they would wilt, and she would shrivel.
    There was nothing more for Billy Joe to do, but label himself a failure.  He gathered what he saw now but the weeds that he had been trying to make flourish and flung them to the back part of his lawn.  He figured he would finish them off with the lawn mower next time.  A strange thing happened though, the weed gradually became stronger, now with room to roam and stretch, its vines took off and we could see that this was never going to be a flower to grow and take pride in.  This was a weed that would produce its own beauty, maybe not in the sense of taking center stage on the dining room table on Easter Sunday, but the kind of beauty that is admired from afar.
    It pained Billy Joe, but he learned a lesson too, just because there is beauty in something wild, does not mean it is meant for you to claim as your domain and try to control it.  Know your plants well, some are weeds that will grow fast and wild and decorate a meadow, while others are truly artisanal and require the upkeep of an expert and someone who will one day present them for all to be displayed as a center of attention.