Vineyards and Groves

Years ago, I walked in the door of my parents' home to be ushered into the kitchen by my older sister.  "Look!" she exclaimed with excitement, showing me a beautiful box on the kitchen counter.  Peering inside, I saw long pointy sticks with what looked like ribbon, squished and glued onto the tips of the sticks.  

Turning towards my sister, and back to the box, I began to internally panic.  Her face reflected pure joy which sometimes could be mistaken for sarcasm.  Not knowing what to say I painfully looked past her to the kitchen door until she exclaimed, "Well, what do you think?"  

In my panic, I determined her expression was sarcasm and so I honestly replied, "I think you should tell your boyfriend to take that back and get you something better."  I grinned, waiting for her to sarcastically laugh with me, when she burst into huge, alligator tears.

Yelling at me, she quickly drew the attention of all the other sisters in the house.  I have four, and before I knew it, I was surrounded by all of them in the kitchen.  As they yelled at me and comforted our sister, I discovered that she in fact had not been joking, but had received her very first dozen roses from her boyfriend.  

Appalled by my reaction, my sisters instantly lectured me on flowers.  Being young at heart I had never paid attention to flowers before and was more concerned about books and tests and playing outside.  As my sisters lectured me, I begged them to take me to the store to show me the flowers, but they refused.  Our mother came through briefly to grab something, and upon asking her what her favorite flowers were, she responded "Wildflowers".  "See!" I quickly grabbed on to this idea.  "That's why I don't know what roses are! Dad always brings mom wildflowers!"

Exasperated my sisters painfully recounted to me their favorite flowers.  J loved red roses, K loved pink roses, E loved daisies, and M loved red carnations.  After listening to them yet again, they looked back at me and again asked me what my favorite flower was.  "Carnations!" I agreed, and then was told I could not pick from theirs.  Digging back in my memory I chose a flower from a nearby park, but was informed it was a weed and could not possibly be my favorite flower.  

Pondering in silence I knew the odds were against me.  No one would take me to the store.  The Internet had not been invented and so there was no way to quickly look up pictures of flowers, and there were no books in the house on the subject either.   When suddenly, I remembered a flower from my childhood in Oregon!  "Dandelions!" I yelled to my sisters.  "I loved to play with them in the back yard of our old home!"  

This answer was received by all four sisters throwing their arms up into the air, looking at each other, and walking out of the kitchen.  "What!?!" I exclaimed, eager to please them.  "It's a weed, Lindsey!" they responded, almost in unison, and left the kitchen.

My sister never did return those roses to her boyfriend.  They sat in a vase on the kitchen counter, almost in an effort to torment me.  In the meantime I waited for the experience to vanish from my family's memories and conversations.  That was short-lived as upon entering the Young Women's room of my church on Sunday, I discovered my sisters had told every peer the story of the flowers that had happened over the week.

"How could you not know what a rose is?" multiple girls asked, almost attacking me.  "How could you say that to your sister?" echoed all around me, resonating in my ears.  Still uneducated about flowers (not one single person had been willing to take me to the store all week to show me) I shrugged my shoulders and tactfully ignored everyone, knowing full well where this conversation would lead me - no where!

My young women's teacher saved me by quieting the other girls and offering to me to come by her house to look at her roses.  I promised I would come, and the girls began to quiet.  It took me almost two weeks to remember to go by her home, and once I did, she said I had come to late.  "The roses have already wilted" she said to me in a sad voice.  

"I don't know what that means" I responded and begged her to still show me the roses.  Taking me into her back yard she kindly explained to me how roses should look before showing me the small garden by her pool.  "They are normally red, and the petals are held tightly together and are normally soft.  It's a delicate flower, and so the thorns are there to protect them from the bugs, but the stems are usually bright green and healthy."  Stepping back to show me the bush, she revealed a plant that had dark, curling leaves, and flowers with petals that were curling outwards turning black.  In awe of their colors I leaned forward and touched the brittle leaves and petals and felt them crumble under my fingertips.  

"These are gorgeous" I exclaimed, and turned to look at her stunned expression.  "I'm glad you like these", she responded, but reminded me that the flowers were normally much more beautiful.  I thanked her for the lesson and returned home to ponder the beauty I had seen.  If those flowers could be so beautiful when they were dying, how beautiful were they when they were fresh, and young and new to the plant?  I tried to imagine it, but more than anything, was grateful for my first lesson about flowers.  

Years later, after having suffered through a bad marriage and divorce the story of the flowers came back to me again and again.  Wondering what lesson the memory might teach me, I reflected upon the scriptures and the parable of the vineyard, and the allegory of the olive tree quite often. 

In both of these stories the Savior teaches principles that lead to a healthy family and marriage.  He discusses the importance of protecting a vineyard once it is built, and of nourishing the olive trees to get the best produce possible. 

When contemplating marriage, people might want to consider the imagery of the vineyard.  You may not plant vines to create wine, but you are building a home together in which you bring your favorite things.  If you were one of my sisters you might be bringing in red carnations, white and pink daisies, and roses of many colors.  Their spouse might be bringing in his favorite flower, or tree, or a plant that produces fruit or vegetables, like a cherry tree.  Together they grow in your vineyard, as a garden and as you have children, they too live in the garden with you.  Weeds will enter in and have to be removed, but as long as you maintain the wall and protect your family, the garden should remain healthy and strong.

Another aspect of marriage can be compared well to the allegory of the olive tree.  In this story, found in the Book of Mormon, the owner of the olive trees discovers them to be sick.  In an effort to heal the trees, he takes branches from healthier trees and then grafts them into the sick trees in an effort to heal them. The full account includes at least four attempts to save the trees, and the outcome of each portion of the olive grove has a different outcome in each attempt.  

When we grow our families, as individual people, we might discover that something has come into their lives that in spiritual terminology has corrupted them, and has corrupted their growth.  It's important to graft into their lives healthy, spiritual things that can help them grow stronger until whatever is ailing them has left their being.  Truly, when we are filled up with positive, spiritual things, there is no room for negativity or spiritual corruption.  

To put this into literal terms you might find a family member is addicted to pornography, or has become physically abusive towards others, or is struggling with suicide ideation.  There are great treatments in putting that person into counseling, and they should be, but an additional treatment for them is to also look at them as a being that is like unto those trees.  They have becoming "corrupted" for lack of a better word, and need parents, as the caretakers of the vineyard and of the olive grove, to actively and diligently heal them.  

This can happen through teaching independence, developing a new talent, asking for forgiveness if a parent has hurt their child, and validating them by allowing them to accept themselves. 

If you look closely at the story of the olive trees, the caretaker does not respond to the problem by cutting the tree down, and so we should not cut a person down when they are struggling with something we may not want in our grove.  Rather, we should invite them to be healed and do the best we can to heal them.  As we do so we become better able to validate others in their journey and show them the Christlike love we are meant to show others.  After all, we are all meant to shine, as children do.

When I contemplate the story of the flowers, in my life, I have come to realize that there are also times when to some, beauty only exists in things like the beautiful box of roses my sister received.  While to others, they see the beauty in the decaying flower, preparing to move on to a new chapter of life.  

The reality of life is that we all decay, and regrow, and heal and overcome serious challenges in our lives, all at the same time while having faith in God.  It is that faith that sustains us and gives us the personal revelation we so dearly need to succeed.  May we all have the strength to protect our vineyards, and to nourish our children that they may succeed in life, as they are meant to succeed.