Story: Three Flowers for Three Sons

Once not so long ago, there was a father of three sons. The father was a wealthy man, his estate encompassed all the lands as far as the eye could see. Each of his three sons were bright and diligent young men, each desiring to honor their father and come into their inheritance as capable stewards. 

One day, the father called the three young men into his office. 

“Boys, I love you. I am leaving for a while. While I am gone, I have gifts for each of you from my garden. As you know, the flowers of my garden do not grow in any other garden and none of you has been permitted to enter yet and see their wonders. I have potted three flowers and I will give one to each of you. I charge each of you with a simple task: upon my return, present to me the flower I have given you. You are responsible for presenting your own flower.” 

With that, he lifted from behind his desk a tray carrying three potted flowers, each like a gemstone, one red as ruby, the next green as emerald, and the third blue as sapphire. Each sparkled and glinted like a star. It had been said that a single flower of the father’s garden was worth the entire estate. 

“They are equally hardy plants, their pots the same in size, the soil the same in its composition. As I said, present to me the flower I have given you upon my return.” 

He then gave one to each son. The first, the ruby flower, he gave to Heston. The second, the emerald flower, he gave to George. The third, the sapphire flower, he gave to Paul. The father departed the next day. It was only on that day that the boys realized he had not specified how long he would be away. 

Time went on and the boys aged. 

Heston was the oldest. As he became a man, he saw no reason to hold on to his flower anymore, since he would inherit the estate regardless. He sold it to a neighboring landholder and used the proceeds to travel to distant lands and enjoy their luxuries. He told George and Paul to write to him is word arrived of father’s return. 

George took his flower and kept it in the safe in the closet of his room. The safe was tightly sealed and impossible to crack. No one would be able to steal his flower and George resolved never to open the safe until his father’s return. 

Paul was rather simple. He took his flower, kept it in sunlight, regularly watered it, and kept the soil fresh. Everyday, Paul would tend to his flower. 

After many years, when the boys had aged to men and the men had hairs long turning grey, their father wrote ahead of his return. George and Paul wrote to Heston, who arrived just the day before father. 

Father didn’t look a day older. In fact, the boys looked older than he. He called them to his office. 

“Boys, I’ve longed for this day.” He said with a smile, “Now, where are the flowers I gave you? Bring them here.” 

Heston stepped forward first. 

“I don’t have mine, father. Hope you don’t mind. I sold it and much of the proceeds continue to grow in our accounts. Our estate will have increased by nearly double this time next year.” 

Father sighed and rubbed his brow. 

“Heston, you have been very shrewd. But I did not ask you to double our estate. I gave you a gift and asked that you give it back to me. Since you have done this, you have forfeited your inheritance. Leave us.” 

When Heston would not leave, the servants were called to drag him away. 

“George, where is your flower?” 

“Here it is, father.” Said George, bringing his flower forward. He had retrieved it from his safe just that morning. There it sat in its pot, shriveled, dry, and dead. A flower, to be sure, but a dead and worthless one. 

“George, why is your flower dead?” Father asked. 

“Father, you gave us this gift and asked that we give it back to you. This is the same flower you gave me all those years ago. You said nothing of keeping it alive, only that we return it to you when you returned to us. I have. Where is my reward?”

“Your reward died with your flower, George. In seeking to honor my words, you failed to grasp the point of the gift. As such, you may keep your flower and join Heston.” 

When George would not leave, the servants were called to drag him away.

“Paul, where is your flower?” Father asked. 

“Here it is, father.” Paul brought forth his flower, brilliant and alive, healthy and strong. 

“Paul, is this the same flower I gave you?” Father asked. 

“Yes, father.” Paul said. 

“And why is it so brilliant?” Father asked. 

“Every day, I tended to my flower. I brought it into your sunroom. I watered it with your water. I nourished it with your soil. And it grew and flourished until your return.” Paul said. 

“Sweet Paul, because you have returned to me the gift I gave you, preserving its life and bringing it to flourish, all I have is yours. For though your actions did not produce the gift which you return to me now, they kept it until my return, and thus you will be rewarded. Receive my estate and all that your brothers would have received.”

And Paul entered the garden with his father, while his brothers remained outside. 
The End.

In Caritate Christi Requiesce