Blind to the Beauty
Once upon a time there was a park-keeper whose job was to pick up liter on the spiked pole. Surrounded by the glorious beauty of flowers and trees, with the sun sparkling through the leaves, he only had eyes for the garbage he had to collect and the damage it did. The park-keeper could only see the bad, and was blind to the beauty. I can’t think of anything worse in life than being blind to the beauty that’s right in front of us. And no story depicts this more clearly than story of the older brother in the Prodigal Son. The oldest son is still in the fields when his brother returns. He comes in at the end of the day and stumbles into the feasting and dancing! Frustrated that he can’t remember the cause of such celebration or that they would even wait on him, he grabs a servant and says, “What’s all this?” The servant replies, “Your brother – he’s come home!” Filled with rage the oldest son refuses to come inside. Yet the father sees this tantrum through the Palest...