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Monday, 31 May 2010 19:45 |
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Heretofore resting quietly on a velvet petal, the Dewdrop could contain itself no longer. It was piled high.
“Tovina, Tovina, the Husbandman himself placed our Bluest Violet here amidst the things that make her happy. He does not ask her to paint on her own smile for cover-up!”
“Then, if you will, “ returned Tovina, “let me ask you: Has Bluest Violet no pruning to seek at the hands of the Husbandman? Does he love her, yet give her no unhappy things? They said to me, ‘Pruning is love; ask for the pruning.’”
“Yes, pruning is love, but so is the caress of the bouncing breeze. Tell me, Tovina, toward which does our violet always turn her face? Let me repeat that law which the Husbandman knows is best for you:
Keep reaching toward the light.”
“Why that is what the Rain told me long ago!”
“Yes, the Rain is everywhere. But do not miss this lesson: Our Bluest Violet smiles because of the direction in which she turns her face.
If your begging for the pruning
ends your reaching toward the light, then
you are not truly connected TO THE VINE.
A branch connected will ever reach toward the light and leave the pruning for the Husbandman.”
Tovina reached and, yes, there was light, the happy peaceful light of a golden sunset.
There in the light a deer, shortcutting through the vineyard, bounded to the edge of the Stream. He was panting.
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