His Wonders In The Deep: The Parable of the Taro Leaf

There once was a boy who cut a taro leaf out of the jungle to show his Grandfather how large it was. A photo was taken of the large taro leaf. By and by the boy and his little sister, grandparents and parents wandered around the area that they lived, enjoying the jungle growth. Without thinking, the boy stuck his thumb into the meaty, fibrous stock of the taro leaf. As we were not indigenous jungle dwellers, we did not know of the consequences of sticking a thumb into the fibrous stock of the taro leaf. By and by the boy started to feel irritation on the end of his thumb and around the thumb nail. Eventually, the boy was in excruciating pain. You see, the fibrous stock is composed of little irritating hairs like what is on some types of Southwestern cactus. Small, like fiberglass, they embed in the soft skin and irritate and inflame the surrounding tissue. Unfortunately, the small hairs had to slowly be absorbed by the boys tissues and so the boy went to bed that night with a very swollen, painful thumb. His parents were so sad that they didn't warn the young boy and would have gladly taken the pain from the boy and endured it themselves if they could have. The parents had no idea that a silly taro leaf could inflict so much discomfort.

In the early nineties, our young family was living on the island of Guam in the Western Pacific. We lived there, as I was a licensed merchant mariner. One Sunday, while my parents were visiting, we went for a walk to enjoy the beautiful tropical island. During our walk, our seven-year-old son, Trevor, had me cut off a large taro leaf so that he could show his Grandfather how big the foliage was. The leaf itself was just about as big as our son. We took a photograph of our son and his little sister with the taro leaf and his grandparents. As we continued the walk, our son inadvertently, stuck his thumb into the fibrous and meaty stock of the taro leaf. As we were not indigenous to the area, we did not know of the consequences of that action. By and by, our son started to feel irritation on the end of his thumb and around the thumbnail. Eventually, he was in excruciating pain. You see, the fibrous stock is composed of little irritating hairs like what is on some types of Southwestern cactus. Small, like fiberglass, they embed in the soft skin and irritate and inflame the surrounding tissue. Unfortunately, the small hairs had to slowly be absorbed by our son’s tissues and so he went to bed that night with a very swollen, painful thumb. Of course, our island brothers and sisters know that taro must be boiled several times to get rid of the small fibers in order to prepare the island staple, poi.

As parents, we felt horrible that we had allowed our young son to do something that ended up causing him great discomfort and pain. We were so sad that we didn't warn our son about the danger and would have gladly taken the pain from him and endured it ourselves if we could have. We had no idea that a silly taro leaf could inflict so much discomfort.

As members of the Church Of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints, we know from the Proclamation on Families that “parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, and to teach them to love and serve one another, observe the commandments of God, and be law-abiding citizens wherever they live.”

Seeing the pain and anguish in our young son’s eyes made my wife and me more sensitive and concerned about our abilities as parents to lead our children in righteousness.

Several years later, while living in Alaska, and working as the port captain for a marine vessel manufacturer, it was my job to deliver new high-speed ferries to New York City from Alaska. When it was stormy along the eastern seaboard, we would navigate along the inter-coastal waterway to avoid the rough seas on the open ocean. On one delivery, the weather cleared and the seas flattened as we neared the mouth of the St. Mary’s River and the Cumberland Sound on the Florida/Georgia state line. As we entered the mouth of the river and the opening into the open sea we started to experience swells coming off of the open sea. The engineer called me on the intercom and asked me to hold up while he prepared the vessel and stowed lose equipment for the rougher seas. It was early in the morning and we were enveloped in a thick fog. As my eyes went from the foggy surrounding to the radar, to detect other vessels in the fog, I noticed the fog starting to lift. Almost as if looking down a tunnel through the opening in the fog, the beautiful, majestic stonewalls of a fortress came into view. I could see the flag flying above this massive, spectacular fortification. As quick as the fort had come into view, it disappeared as the fog settled back in.

After arriving home I did some research and found out that what I saw was called Fort Clinch. Construction began in 1847. Unfortunately, by 1862, modern armaments rendered the fortification obsolete and it was abandoned. Over the days and weeks that followed, I pondered about the plight of that magnificent structure. My natural thought process likened it to our family. Could modern worldly influences have become stronger than the defensive walls of our home and could those walls be rendered obsolete? As parents, we have all seen the strengthening of the adversary since our youth. His tactics today are more deceptive and more intrusive than ever before. Our precious children are more exposed and vulnerable to the pain and anguish of worldly influences than at any other time.

Thankfully, the soothing balm of modern revelation from apostles and prophets can calm anxious hearts.

“We counsel parents and children to give highest priority to family prayer, family home evening, gospel study and instruction, and wholesome family activities. However worthy and appropriate other demands or activities may be, they must not be permitted to displace the divinely-appointed duties that only parents and families can adequately perform” (First Presidency letter, 11 Feb. 1999).

As a merchant mariner, nautical charts are a “tool of the trade”. One day my eyes stopped on a warning that appears on every nautical chart for the United States. I had read it hundreds of times but for some reason that day it caught my eye. It states: “The Prudent Mariner will never rely on a single navigational aid. Especially, floating aids.” Why? Because a floating aid, like a buoy that marks a narrow channel is not always accurate because the chain that anchors the aid to the bottom must be long enough to anchor the aid stoutly to the bottom during the highest of tides. Unfortunately, during a very low tide, there is a lot of slack in the chain causing the buoy to move further away from the narrow safety of the deepest part of the channel. Many a seaman has gone aground because of this dangerous phenomenon. Mariners are advised to use multiple aids. If a single aid becomes inoperable and there is no backup, a perilous outcome may result.

May I share a poem that likens this example to the fortification of our precious families from the influences of the world?

The prudent mariner will never rely

On a single navigational aid,

To steer the ship’s course

From one single source

Is quite a mistake, I’m afraid.

The mud and the sand of the shallows and bars

Are constantly shifting, you see.

There’s treacherous shoals

And shallow atolls

It’s disaster’s best recipe.

To use multiple aids when you’re making way