Bean Soup

Tonight my brother has classes late so I am watching his kids. Since they have school tomorrow, I’m getting them off the bus and keeping them over night. So tonight I will have all four kids, ages 11,10, just turned 8, and soon to be 8. The oldest and the two youngest are all boys, so that means I am out numbered. 3 boys and 2 girls in this house all night. But it isn’t a problem really, they are all fairly good at entertaining themselves and each other.

But earlier as I was blog hopping, (a habit I find myself doing too often anymore) I was contemplating what to fix for Supper. Those 4 come home from school starving so I wanted to have something ready. I thought about that big bag of dried beans I had just bought and thought perfect. The kids love bean soup (and chili and anything else that causes the bodily function they find so funny.) They are kids, and they are boys, so they still find bathroom humor hilarious. And since it would please them to no end and it is a easy and fairly healthy thing to make, I started the preparations.

First you have to sort and wash the beans, picking out the bad ones or the ones that just don’t look right. That got me thinking about how it would be like to be a poor little blemished bean in a bag with all those perfect ones. Okay I know how that sounds, which leads to this multiple choice question:

Am I ?

a. just plain weird

b. spending too much time watching cartoons on television

c. in need of getting a real job

d. just plain weird

e. all of the above

Okay, for the one or two of you who haven’t jumped ship thinking, “Man she is certifiable.” I’ll continue the story.

In every bag you find at least 4 or 5 beans that are just the wrong color or blemished or somehow just not right. Can you imagine the teasing and taunting they must face everyday on the shelf? Things like you are weird, you are not right, you are different so you are bad, or even hearing that you will never amount to anything. It must be a hard and lonely life with serious self-esteem issues.

Then the day comes where the bag is emptied and sorted. I can just hear the last minute taunts being hurled as the perfect beans go into the pan of water, “We told you that you would never amount to anything.” And for the 4 or 5 left on the counter it must be heartbreaking to realize they are right.

So all those perfect beans are sitting around soaking and congratulating each other for being so great and they swell up with pride. They get bigger and bigger all the while thinking they are so great and wonderful. Maybe they are flaunting their position and calling over the edge of the pot, “See what happens when you look like us and think like us and believe like us? We were chosen, we were right, and you were wrong. You are nothing and we are everything.”

And then someone walks by and turns on the burner and the water heats up. The End

But what, you may ask, about the beans left on the counter because they were different and judged as not perfect? If they are planted, and receive water and sunlight, 9 times out of 10, they will grow and bring forth fruit. Those 4 or 5 little beans can be taken from the counter top and planted. All the while they may still believe that they are less valued or have no value. They are in the dark damp ground feeling lost and more alone than ever. But something happens and one day they burst forth out from under the deep dark dirt. They come into the warm light and see that it is good. They are growing and they are thriving and they have great worth too. Because in all of that time of darkness and isolation, there was great potential waiting to burst forth. And that potential continues to grow.

You see, the difference was only superficial. It wasn’t about the part of the bean that really mattered. It is the inside or the heart that counts. And just because a bean may be a little different than most, doesn’t make it wrong or bad or worthless. Every bean has the same potential for growth and goodness. That same potential is in all of us.