This story is dedicated to my younger daughter.  She is strong, beautiful, and is wildly living life as a polar opposite to how we raised her.  With every look, every word, every text,  she tries to convey disdain, disrespect, and dislike for her parents, especially me…her mom.  And yet…I love her.  I will always love her.  I think she is afraid to trust, afraid to love, afraid to put down roots for fear they will be yanked out again.  I am writing an allegory for her and this is Part One.  I think I will eventually mail it to her and hope that she understands that sometimes acting out in anger is actually a cover for the pain of past hurt.

To my beloved younger daughter…

A tiny vine poked her head up through the rich soil of a countryside farm and took in a first impression of her surroundings.  She glimpsed green fields under a bright blue sky and saw countless other vines.  They looked like her but were much larger as they had been growing longer. She smiled joyously and was just lifting her head to feel the sun when she felt a gentle hand on her face.  The newborn vine glimpsed the loving yet sad face of a gardener then watched as an older gardener strode over to join them.

The older gardener looked closely at the newborn vine then sternly judged her to be the “wrong type” of vine and ordered her to be uprooted.  The little vine saw the young, sad-faced gardener lean over her and heard some whispered words.  In the next moment, she felt herself pulled from the cozy soil and in the confusion, she buried deep within her heart those whispered words.

A miniscule but very real root was ripped away when pulled from the familiar soil and it hurt.   For the first time in her life, the little vine felt an awful feeling; it was the feeling of loss though she did not understand it at the time. Without knowing that it happened, a little bit of joy died within her, replaced by the tiniest bit of darkness.

She was taken to a greenhouse; really a very nice greenhouse as they go.  Though she missed that warm, cozy feeling of being part of a field of vines under a warm sun, she was well taken care of by many efficient (though somewhat impersonal) gardeners that periodically checked on her, gave her water as needed and changed her soil on schedule.  Still, the tiny vine longed for something more though she was not quite sure what it was.

Before too long, the little vine felt herself pulled from the greenhouse soil.  She was confused; though not as cozy as the soil under the warm sun and blue sky, this place was now familiar.  There was just the tiniest bit of a root that got pulled off; the tiniest loss of joy and a bit of an increase in darkness…hardly anything, but it was there.

The baby vine was comforted though by the sense of being gently cradled in the arms of a stranger who then carefully placed her into another location.  There were a couple of older sibling vines that were very fun and would take her to other young vines to play.  There was a grandma vine and the gentle stranger turned out to be a momma vine; there was a poppa vine too and they both took care of her.  They continued to make sure she had enough water and changed her soil.  There was something more and though the little vine was unable to put it into words, she felt safe and happy.  The tiny bit of darkness within her began to transform back into joy.

Time went on and this field became her whole world.  The tiny vine became a toddler vine and grew a toddler-sized-but-strong root down deep into the soil of her field.  She spent her days swaying, laughing and waving in the warm sun, blissfully unaware that her world was destined to change again.

To Be Continued…