The Part of Life
There was a man who had four children. He needed his children to figure out how to not pass judgment on things too rapidly. So he sent them each on a mission, thusly, to go and take a gander at a pear tree that was an extraordinary separation away.
The primary child went in the winter, the second in the spring, the third in summer, and the most youthful child in the fall.
When they had all gone and return, he assembled them to depict what they had seen.
The main child said that the tree was terrible, bowed, and contorted.
The second child said no – it was secured with green buds and loaded with guarantee.
The third child dissented, he said it was loaded down with blooms that smelled so sweet and looked so excellent, it was the most smooth thing he had ever observed.
The last child couldn't help contradicting every one of them; he said it was ready and hanging with natural product, brimming with life and satisfaction.
The man at that point disclosed to his children that they were good, since they had each observed however one season in the tree's life.
He revealed to them that you can't pass judgment on a tree, or a man, by just a single season, and that the substance of their identity – and the joy, bliss, and love that originate from that life – must be estimated toward the end, when every one of the seasons are up.
On the off chance that you surrender when it's winter, you will miss the guarantee of your spring, the excellence of your late spring, satisfaction of your fall.
Try not to pass judgment on an existence by one troublesome season. Try not to give the agony of one season a chance to decimate the delight of all the rest.