Friday, March 18, 2011
The Bamboo Story Happened To Me ... How About You?
There was a beautiful garden in the center of a magic kingdom. In the cool of the day, the master of the kingdom often walked. Of all the dwellers in the garden, the most beautiful was the noble bamboo tree. Year after year, Bamboo grew more lovely and yet more noble and gracious, conscious of his master's love and watchful eye. One day, the master himself drew near to contemplate his beloved tree, and Bamboo, in the passion of adoration, bowed her lovely head to the ground. The master spoke, "Bamboo, I am ready to use you." It seemed the day of days had come, the day for which the tree had been made. Bamboo's voice came low, "Master, I am ready; use me as you will." "Bamboo, the master's voice was grave, "I must take you and cut you down." "Cut me down? Me, when you, Master, have made me the most beautiful tree in all of your garden? Cut me down? Not that! Use me in your way dear master, but do not cut me down." "Beloved Bamboo, if I do not cut you down, I cannot use you." The garden grew still. Even the wind held his breath. Bamboo slowly bent her glorious head, "Master, if you cannot use me as I am, cut me down. Do what you must." "Beloved Bamboo, I must cut your leaves and branches from you too." "Oh Master, spare me. Lay my beauty in the dust but don't take my leaves and branches too!" "Unless I cut them, I cannot use you." The sun hid his face, a butterfly glided fearfully by, and Bamboo, shivering in the expectancy, whispered low, "Master, cut." "Bamboo, I will divide you in two and cut out your heart for if I do not, I cannot use you." Bamboo, without hesitation, bowed to the ground, "Master, then cut." So did the master of the garden cut down the Bamboo, hack off her branches, strip her leaves, divide her in two, and cut out her heart. He carried her to where there was a spring of fresh, sparkling water in the midst of the master's dry field putting one end of broken Bamboo in the spring and the other end into the channel of his field. The master gently laid down his beloved tree and the spring sang a welcome. The clear sparkling waters raced joyously down the channel of Bamboo's torn body into the waiting fields. The rice was planted, the days went by, the shoots grew, and the harvest came. Bamboo, once so glorious, was put to use in her brokenness and humility. For in her beauty she had life abundant for herself, but in her brokenness, she became a channel of love for her Master's world.