At the Texas Storytelling Festival this last weekend, many fine tales were told. One in particular was told by my friend Elida Bonet, a marvelous storyteller who grew up in Panama, at the Sacred Tales concert. She said the story had come to her in one of those forwarded “inspirational e-mails” she gets (the ones I delete). It touched my heart, so I found it and re-wrote it for you. It makes me want to be a coffee bean. I know that’s weird. But, at least I don’t want to grow up to be Miss Piggy, or something — I’d end up as bacon. Read the story and perhaps you will understand why I want to be a coffee bean.
She felt like one of those punching bag dolls. You’ve seen them. Inflatable plastic bags, often shaped like a clown, with a weighted bottom. You could hit those punching bags, and they fell over … but they bounced right back. Life kept hitting her. Time after time she fell over with the blow but stood to face it again. Just as she thought her troubles were over and that things were going smoothly, BAM. Life hit her again — harder. At last she grew tired of struggling. If she was a punching bag, she had sprung a leak. She could no longer bounce back to face her troubles.
Not knowing what else to do, she sought the advice of her father, for he was the wisest man she had ever met. At his kitchen table, she poured out her troubles and wept. Her father looked at her kindly with his ice blue eyes, but his craggy face showed no sign of emotion. He stood and said, “Come with me.”
She followed him to the stove and watched, incredulous, as he filled three pots with water and put them on the stove to boil. “I’m having troubles, Daddy! I came to you for advice, and all you can think to do is cook?” she cried.
He held up one finger and grinned. “Wait, Grasshopper,” he joked. “You have much to learn and I will teach you.”
“Daddy, this isn’t a Kung Fu movie! This is my life!” she said.
Her father smiled a toothless grin, as he placed a bunch of carrots on the counter. “What are those?” he asked.
“Well, carrots … duh!”
“How do they feel?” her father asked her, as he placed the carrots in one pot.
Exasperated she said, “Like carrots … what else would they feel like?”
“Mmhmm,” he murmured, as he handed her an egg. “I know that’s an egg … but how does it feel?”
She wanted to throw the egg at the wall, but she refrained. “Daddy,” she said. “It feels like an egg.”
“Ahh!” he nodded, putting the egg in the second pot. He pulled out a bag of coffee beans and shook some into her hand. “Smell them. Touch them. How do they feel?”
She threw them on the counter and said, “They feel like they are getting tired of this nonsense and so am I!”
“Hang on,” he said. “There is a point to this.” He ground the coffee beans and threw them into the third pot. As the water came to a boil he said, “Let’s take a walk.” Without saying another word, he led his daughter into the garden and walked arm in arm down the path admiring his rose bushes.
After fifteen minutes or so, they returned to the kitchen. “Sit,” the old man told his daughter. He turned off all three pots. He drained the carrots and emptied them into a bowl. He took the egg from the pot and put it in a second bowl. Then, he strained the coffee and put it in a cup. He placed all three of these before his daughter.
“Now, Grasshopper,” he smiled. “I want you to touch them and tell me what they feel like.”
“Oh, puhleeze!” she sighed. “Why did I even come here?”
“Because I’m smart,” he laughed. “Feel those carrots … don’t they feel soft and mushy? And, the egg. Crack it open. It’s hard now. Now, smell that coffee and take a sip.”
She reached for the cup and held it to her nose. It smelled good! She took a taste, “Wow!” she said. “That’s strong.”
“There you go,” he cackled. He sat across from his daughter and took her hands in his. “Darlin’, Life is like those pots of boiling water. Consider that the boiling water is ‘trouble.’ Trouble is always going to come around, and we have to consider how we face it.
“Some folks are like those carrots: they start out strong and hard, but when trouble comes, they get all soft and weak. Other folks are like the egg: inside they are fragile … until they face trouble. Although they show the same face to the world, they harden inside.
“But, did you notice that when those coffee beans hit the water … they changed the water and made it stronger and richer?
“Do you want to be a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean, gal? If you are going to be a coffee bean, when things are at their worst, YOU get better and change the situation around you.”
He gave his daughter a hug and whispered, “I’m just sayin’”
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{ 8 comments }
Makes for a darned good explanation as to why that morning cup of coffee is so important, so vital, to get us moving and up to par to face each new day, doesn’t it?
Peace!
.-= Jeni Hill Ertmer´s last blog ..The Volcano! =-.
Yep, now if we can just be a “coffee bean.” Maybe the coffee is what we need to get moving and be one.
I just love this story. Thanks for sharing it.
I think I want to be a coffee bean too.
.-= Sheila Atwood´s last blog ..How To Blog On WordPress-Membership Sites =-.
Thank you, Sheila! I appreciate your kind words as always. I think you already are a coffee bean
I knew I liked coffee for a reason! (and I never was very fond of carrots) Thanks for sharing the story, it’s a good one to be reminded of.
I’m so jealous of you going to the Storyteller Festival, it must’ve been so much fun!
.-= Susie´s last blog ..The Tale of the Magical Leprechaun =-.
Storytelling festivals are always fun. Especially if you get to tell a story! I’m so starved for an audience all the time
Count me in on the wanna be a coffee bean club. Great story.
I appreciate your visit and the kind words!
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