A Parable of Spice – by E F Mac Intosh
A farmer went out to the spice gardens to sow seeds. As he scattered the seeds in the garden, some of them fell by the wayside and the birds came and took them. Some of the seeds fell on rocky ground where there was little soil. The seeds soon sprouted, but when the sun shone on the young sprouts they wilted, and because the roots were not in deep soil and could not sustain the young plants, they dried up. Some of the seeds fell among the bushes which grew up and choked the spice plants, and so they did not bear any spice. But some of the seeds fell into fertile soil, and the plants sprouted and grew and bore succulent and delectable spices.
So it goes with life in the Spice industry:
But for those of us who fall by the wayside, are choked out by the competition, or because of our shallow faith we succumb to the temptations of mirage-like greener pastures, there is still hope. Read the parable of the Prodigal Son whose father was a wealthy Spice grower!
When the younger of the Spice grower’s two sons came of age, he told his father that he no longer wanted to be a spice grower, that instead he would go to the city to seek his fortune. He demanded of his father that he be given his share of the plantation in coin, for which he would relinquish any right or ownership to the family business.
After failing to persuade his son otherwise, the Father prudently acquiesced to his son’s demand, gave him his share in coin, and kissed him goodbye.
The Prodigal son set-off for the city, to a life he envisioned would be one of grandeur and opulence. However without the guidance of his father, the Prodigal Son soon fell in with the most unscrupulous of the cities’ society, invested his money in the pleasure industry, and soon he also succumbed to all the temptations and allure that night-life in a big city has to offer.
Soon his money was gone; and no longer of interest to his city “friends” he was relegated to the merest of society, sleeping in the alleys, and scrounging for food – even picking through the waste that was destined as food for swine. How much better I would be, he thought, even if I was a servant in my father’s plantation. Yet his false pride told him that he could not go back.
He had lost everything, he even questioned his own humanity, sometimes hallucinating that he was really a feral dog. But then after a few years of abject poverty and fiendish existence, his “inner voice” spoke to him. I will go back to my Father he thought, and I will beg of him to let me sleep on the garden bench, and let me dine with the servants.
With trepidation the Prodigal Son returned to his Father’s plantation, a home he had left many years before. When his Father saw his long-lost son he cried out in joy and hugged and kissed him and ordered the servants to fix a bath for him and to bring him clean clothes. To the chagrin of his older son, the Father also ordered the servants to prepare a feast and invite all the neighbors to a celebration.
Now is not the time to scorn, he told his older son, now is the time to rejoice. Your brother was lost, but now he is found.