This is an original story I wrote well over 10 years ago. If you wish to share it, please share the link, but do not copy it without giving credit to me as the writer. I’m going out on a limb posting it, but I think it’s a pretty timely story.
The Little Herb Plant that Wanted to be a Tree
By Yvette Jessen
Far out in the eastern orient, where many varieties of plants grew, a young herb plant lived in a beautiful monastery overlooking a large mountain valley. It grew from a seedling into a small plant practically overnight until the day that it began to take the form of a tiny, little tree, very small to the eye, but filled with a dream. It was said that it wanted to grow up and become a tree, as large as those which lined the monastery wall, and surrounding the perimeters of the garden where it lived.
The little plant grew taller as the summer months drifted slowly by, the monks would watch over and take very good care of it. Every day, they would bring water, and give its roots the nutrients to grow, but one day, it looked at the other plants and said, “I want to be a tree when I grow up.”
Of course, the other plants laughed and said. “No, you cannot be a tree, you are nothing more than a tiny herb plant.” Of course, this made the little herb plant very sad, because it somehow knew that it was destined for something more special than just growing in a garden and being one of a hundred or so herb plants.
It was in this garden that many people would visit, dignitaries of the church would regard the garden with captivation and joy. Their visits would generally make the inhabitants of the monastery very proud, and the monks who kept the garden always watched over it and made sure that it would grow as it should. It was a place of pride, love, and tranquility.
Every morning, a small girl would come into the garden and wander around. Her father was hired by the monastery to help tend the grounds, so she was able to walk all around the garden undisturbed. The Brothers in the monastery came to know her, and whenever they would see her, they would call her by name, “Hello Rose,” they would say, and the child would giggle and go about her daily rituals.
Yet, it happened that one day, she came into the garden and could hear soft cries from somewhere in the garden, yet she could not figure out from where these cries specifically emerged. She became curious and looked around the area in apt contemplation, but she never could figure out from where it originated.
Staring in the distance where various monks were now working, the sun beating down on them, she approached slowly. It had proven to be a beautiful sunny day, but yet the cries were still detectable to her and she asked herself, who would be crying on such a day as this? Eventually, she looked at one of the monks and spoke to him, her voice soft, filled with innocence.
“I hear someone crying,” she said to the Brother who had stopped working momentarily, stood up, and began to listen.
After a few moments, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rose, I don’t hear anything.”
She looked up at him. “Maybe it’s because you’re too far away from the ground, Brother Johannes,” she said softly. “Because I hear it and I know the sounds of someone crying when I hear them.”
As she continued to listen, she sighed and watched as the monk once more began to work. He did not seem to believe her, so she began to walk alone through the garden and search for the one who was crying. Either that or find someone who could hear the sounds as vividly as she could.
Across the garden she walked, through the various fruits, vegetables, and even through the vineyard where the grapes grew in outlined rows. She could still hear the sound, but could not figure out where it came. She could see that two monks were standing in the grapes and they were picking the ripened fruit and were literally engulfed in the silence that surrounded them.
Not wishing to disturb them, but wanting desperately to know if they could hear the crying as well, she slowly approached and spoke, her voice tiny. “Can you hear that? I heard someone crying and don’t know where it came from.” The two monks closed their eyes and listened, but after a few moments, they opened them again, looked at her, and wordlessly shook their heads.
Rose released an unhappy sigh and left the two monks to their work. As she made her way back through the garden in the direction to where she started, she lowered her head.
“How can I hear something when no one else can?” She asked the stillness as she returned to the place where she had initially heard the cries. As she reached the area, she could see that in the distance the monks were diligently working.
It was the monks who had taught her to concentrate on simple sounds and listen in the silence, but now she was confused. How could she hear something that they clearly could not? She wondered for several moments if she had truly heard what she thought she had heard. “How can I hear it and no one else can?” she whispered.
“Perhaps because you have not lost that part of yourself that believes in the things that grown ups do not,” the unhappy voice emerged, this time right beside her. She began to look around, but instead of seeing another person, all she saw was a row of herb plants that were nearby.
“W-who said that?” she whispered.
“I did, I’m right here beside you,” the voice once more resonated in her ears, and it now sounded as though it was coming from a boy her age. Her tiny ears were still detecting it, but yet, she was alone in the garden.
“I don’t see anyone, where are you?” she whispered as the breeze began to blow and the small voice was covered by the sounds of the wind rustling the distant trees. She sat down on the ground, not really sure what to do next, and uncertain if she would ever figure out the answer to her question.
Eventually, the Abbot came outside and approached the confused child who was seated on the ground with her head bowed. As soon as he reached her, he looked down at her through a pair of aged, but wise and gentle eyes. It was said that the Abbot, although old in appearance, had a heart young and free. He spoke rarely, but it was no secret that he, like the other monks, had grown fond of the child during the times when she had run free in the garden.
“Rose, what has you troubled?” he asked; his voice emerging in a kind and grandfatherly sort of way.
“I heard someone crying and then I couldn’t find them,” the little girl answered as she looked up at him.
In response to these words, the Abbot, closed his eyes and nodded after a few moments had passed. “Yes, I hear it, too,” he whispered. “It carries itself in the wind, but it is always said that the prayers of large and small can be heard in the stillness of the garden. That is if one truly listens.”
“You can hear it?” the little girl asked with obvious relief when she saw that the Abbot was nodding. “Everybody else said they couldn’t.”
“But, I do, and I think that I know from where it is coming.” He sat down next to the child on the ground and pointed towards the herb plant that was planted in the earth before them. “The source is right here.”
The child looked down at the small plant and shook her head. “But plants don’t talk,” she objected as she turned and faced the Abbot.
The man shook his head and began to speak. “Don’t be so quick to answer with logic. The sounds of crying were heard, and no one else could hear them but you and me. The little herb plant is unhappy.” He looked down at the plant and began to address it. “Why are you so unhappy, little one?” he asked patiently. “Are you not contented here with us or is there something that you need that we can try to get for you?”
The little plant’s cries grew louder upon hearing these words and Rose shrank back. “You were right, it is crying,” she said. In her voice was unhidden surprise but also etched in her words were traces of excitement. “But I don’t understand.”
The Abbot smiled down at her, but nodded. “Wait, and let it answer, that is what it needs to speak honestly and find its peace.”
The little plant continued to cry loudly. “I am very happy here, but…I…I have a wish that will never be realized. I want to be a tree, and not a small, insignificant herb plant.”
As it spoke, it continued to cry and Rose looked at the Abbot. “Can’t we help it?”
“No, little one, not so much with actions, but the words we say might help,” the Abbot answered, his attention suddenly on the plant. “We cannot make you into something that you are not. You see, my little friend, God made you what you are because He has a very special plan in mind for you. You look as you look and are as you are because God knows the impact you can have on the world. It is quite the same with all of His children; you were created for a divine purpose. You don’t yet know what that purpose is, because you are sitting in the middle of a large garden with other herb plants, but when you one day discover it, then you will no longer have any reason to feel sad. When that day comes, you will feel happy and it will be a special time for you. Of that, I am almost certain.” As he spoke, he gently stroked the top of the plant, his aged fingers bringing comfort to the herb plant. “Being a tree is a wonderful dream for a young herb plant, but it cannot happen, as that is not what you are. Maybe one day, you will see that being what you are is also very special.”
Rose sat and listened as the Abbot spoke comfort to the small plant and moments later, she looked at him. “So it’s the same with me, right?” she asked innocently.
“Of course,” he nodded. “Even you will grow, like this plant, and you will find out what reason God has for sending you to this world.”
Rose smiled. “May I take care of it until it finds out? I’m curious as to what will happen in its future.”
The Abbot smiled and nodded. “If that is your wish, but I have an idea for our little friend here, as well.”
The child looked at him and shook her head. “What’s your idea?”
The Abbot’s eyes shone brightly as he responded to her question. “I have a window in my study that is without any green whatsoever, and I miss that. Would you like to come and live with me, little herb plant? Together, we can learn a great deal from one another and you can grow in the window and stare out at the mountains in the distance.”
Rose looked at the Abbot. “Maybe it would be lonely away from others of its kind,” she said softly.
In response to this suggestion, the little herb plant had grown unusually silent, its contemplations now on the Abbot’s offer. After several moments, it spoke, its voice filled with joy. “I think I would like that, I would be without others like me, but I would also be among friends.”
The Abbot smiled and nodded as he turned to speak to the little girl. “Rose, please go to Brother Franz and ask him for a shovel, a flower pot, and some water and nutrients for our little friend here,” the Abbot said to the small child and she jumped up and ran to fulfill his request.
After a few moments, she returned and extended the objects to the Abbot. She sat down on the ground next to him as he gently began to dig in the earth around the herb plant.
She watched him as he carefully removed the plant from its place in the garden and replanted it in the small pot. Next, fresh earth was placed around its roots, and while Rose carefully held the fragile plant, the Abbot applied the soil. Within minutes, the two of them had completed this special task. “Now, you get a few nutrients, and after a little time, you’ll be as good as new, my little friend.”
The small plant looked around at that moment and could see that the other herb plants were eying it with envy, and it spoke to them. “This is my path, I chose it, and you can all choose your paths as well.”
The Abbot and Rose got to their feet and the little girl picked up the pot with the small herb plant in it and carried it with the Abbot to his study. There she placed the pot on a sunny windowsill and smiled. “So, here we are, in your new home.”
The little herb plant happily looked out a window. “I’m a tree!” It proclaimed excitedly as it looked way out in the distance. Rose looked at the Abbot and the man nodded, as the little herb plant’s exuberant cries continued. “I can see over the tops of the tallest trees, I can see the heavens, and the sun. I’m a tree, I’m a tree…”
Rose smiled and looked out the window of the Abbot’s study, and sure enough, from the windowsill, she could see the treetops as well as the roofs of the houses below in the small town. After a few moments, she looked at the Abbot. “The herb plant is happy.”
The man nodded. “Yes, because it followed its path and found the answers it sought. It’s not always a matter of physically being taller, Rose, it is sometimes a matter of feeling taller and understanding that feeling taller is often of far more significance, especially when the point of view changes.”
Rose nodded, for the first time in her young life, she fully understood, but she looked at the Abbot. “It’s going to be alright, isn’t it?”
The Abbot smiled and nodded. “Yes, because it had the courage to come to a new place.” He reached over and brushed the top branches of the plant with his fingertips.
~~~~~
In the days and months to come, the Abbot found a newfound joy with the herb plant in his windowsill, as well as the daily visits from the little girl.
One day during the short, cold days of winter, the Abbot waited for Rose to come, and when she did not knock at his door and several hours had passed, he became worried about her. He looked down at his watch and then out the window all the while waiting, but, the little girl never showed up.
Eventually, he spoke to the herb plant. “I shall go and ask about her. I’m worried, but I will return.”
Where could she be? The herb plant asked himself once the Abbot had grabbed his coat and left the office.
After some time had passed, he returned and closed the door; his eyes were filled with sadness as he seated himself in front of the window and looked down at the little plant. “Where’s Rose?” it eventually asked.
He shook his head. “She’s very sick, my friend, and there is only one thing can help her. As you know, it has started to snow outside again, the other herb plants are in what one would call hibernation, and we haven’t the herbs that we need, which can help her.”
“But I’m here,” the plant said and began to move its leaves around as a way to get the Abbot’s attention. “Can I not help her? Take some of my leaves, as many as you need, I will offer them freely.”
The Abbot nodded. “It would give Rose some strength to overcome the illness.”
“Then I will give them to her,” the small plant affirmed. “Just so she will feel better.”
The Abbot nodded and very gently, he removed some of the leaves from the plant, and smiled. “I’m so glad that you are a little herb plant, and not a tree. A tree couldn’t help Rose, but you, a small miracle from God, can.” He carefully took the leaves that he had cut and put them in a small bag. “We will go to the child, together.” He picked up the plant, carried it to the door, and smiled before exiting. “From this day on, your name will be Herbert.”
Herbert began to sway its remaining leaves happily and with the Abbot carefully carrying him across the monastery grounds, they reached the separate house where a number of the employees lived.
As soon as the Abbot had reached the door that led into one of the apartment houses, he knocked, and the girl’s father met him at the door. “Did you come to see my little girl?”
The Abbot smiled and nodded. “We both did,” he offered freely as he came into the front hall of the apartment. “We can use these leaves to make her a tea, and then she will feel much better,” he said smiling as he held up the bag with the leaves inside. “It’s a gift from Herbert.” He said as he motioned towards the plant.
The girl’s father looked at the Abbot with surprise. “The plant’s name is Herbert?”
The Abbot nodded. “Yes, of course; everything has a name. God gives every creature and living thing a name, and this plant’s name is Herbert.” He extended the small bag to the child’s father. “Use this to make a tea, and then Rose will feel better very soon.”
The girl’s father did as suggested and once the tea was finished, he brought the cup out of the kitchen and extended it to the Abbot. “You must give it to her, as it is the gift from you and your plant,” he said and the Abbot accepted the cup with his free hand and carried both the tea and Herbert into the little girl’s room and smiled gently at her as she sat up in bed.
“Hello, little one,” he offered and put the cup and Herbert on the bedside table.
“Hi,” the child coughed but looked bravely up at him. “Sorry I couldn’t come today, but I don’t feel very good, and Daddy said I had to stay home.”
“This is why I came to visit you instead, and I brought you a little gift,” the Abbot said smiling as he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. “Actually, it is from our friend, Herbert, the herb plant.”
He reached over to the table, took the cup, and extended it to the little girl. She accepted it and took a hesitant sip. Upon tasting the warm liquid, she looked over at the plant. “This came from you, didn’t it?” She asked, but before either the Abbot or Herbert could respond, she continued. “Didn’t it hurt?” She asked innocently, her free hand reaching over and touching some of the plant’s remaining leaves.
“No,” the plant said simply. “It’s part of my path, and had I been a tree, I couldn’t have done anything to help you.”
“So now you’re happy that you’re not a tree?” the little girl asked shyly as she continued to sip the tea.
“Yes, I’m grateful for what I am,” Herbert said and as an added affirmation, it began to sway its leaves happily.
The End.