Before the eyes open a garden, I look with pleasure. For my eyes wash in the vivid colors of the flowers and clear themselves in their sweet smell. I see that the flowers that have been planted behind have dawned. I say, they were planted, because I did not plant them ... it was a poor gardener, a man walking in the streets, and asking all men to take seeds from Him. All you had to do was want those seeds, for He gave you, and even descended to your garden to plant them. However, few people wanted to receive seeds.
I am glad of my new garden, as princess flowers, soothe my eyes and clear my sigh. Here, all the turmoil is at the feet of the flowers, I would watch them for hours without saturation ... but, ah ... I see in that corner some weeds.
Thought tells me to rip them out tomorrow, because now it's approaching the evening. I'm headed for the exit gate, and in my path the Gardener, who gave me the flowers, appears to me.
- Well, baby, what are your flowers doing?
"They are beautiful, but there are some weeds in the corner of the garden," I tell the Gardener. - You would not want to rip them off, I? I could clean up your garden: I drank your flowers every morning and pluck your weeds every night.
I'm rushing out of the Garden, without taking into account His sayings.
It leaves in the evenings, it comes in the morning, one more night, one more morning ... and so it ends a full of thrills and mourners.
I can not wait to embrace my flowers, to calm my thoughts ...
But I do not see any flower! Where, but where did they all hide? My eyes are only impacted by weeds, big and ugly. My garden is weathered by weeds that I knew so fierce ...
- Who are you and who planted you here? I ask one that was taller and more infuriated than all.
- You do not recognize me?!? I'm pride and you brought me here! You set me up, you watered me every day with the lust of your accomplishments - and look now, how beautiful I am.
I remain speechless, it seems like a dream I want to end up with.
"I am Envy -" cried another dark weed, and I see you pretend not to recognize us. - And I Hate, Cleaving, Lying, was heard in the choir of names ...
pride made another sign of silence, then said: - We're fine here in your garden, the land nourishes us, you're always wet ...
- Me? I did not have time to wet my flowers either. And my thoughts pierced my heart: My flowers, my flowers, I did not care, and the weeds grew and suffocated them. Yes, now, I realize! Tears flow over my cheeks, and my knees stick to the ground. With my hands towards Heaven I cry - disappointment grows ... I will never see my garden again! In the desperation that swept me, I rise up and run to the gate, because I do not want to spend a minute here. But it prevents me and I fall. My leg was impeded by a ... flower! I can not believe my eyes: a flower among so many weeds.
- Flower, what is your name, and how do you live?
- I'm Hope and I'm waiting for you! I knew you would come!
- But I came too late ...
- Never say that, you'll have the flowers again, all! Go and look for the gardener, only He knows how to clean the garden, only He can! Go today, because tomorrow it may be too late!
But I can not go far enough to the garden that the Gardener himself appears in my path. With tears of tears I say, - I do not know what you call, I just know you're the Gardener, Hope told me ... Hope told me that only You can help me. I want to clean my garden with all my soul: Today, Hope told me, as far as I can!
- Your tears have convinced me, kids. I will remove all the weeds out and burn them, I will work the earth, I will sow seeds in it, and then I will dine and care for them every day.
- Could you do that, huh?
- Do not be afraid, believe only, for to him who believes in all his heart, whatever will be done to him; Everything to him is possible.
I am stunned by the words of the Gardener, His words are sweet and warm me up. - I would like to be You, Garden Gardener, please stay with me, and as payment I will give you the whole garden. It's a little, but it's all I can do better.
The gardener smiled, and his smile pours wide in my soul: - That's enough, baby!
- What's your name, dear Gardener? I wish I knew you really.
- My name is Love ...
- Love, stay with me!
Now I started from day to day to know more and more the Gardener. For He dwells in my garden, that is, in my soul, and is the master of my life. My soul is cleansed of Him, and I do not need anything, because: what would a man use to win everybody if he lost his garden? Or what would a man give in exchange for his garden?
source:Calauza Ortodoxa