Parable of the Azalea

At the edge of my yard, where the lawn meets the woods, grows a pathetic azalea bush. I didn't even know it was there until someone pointed it out. It was actually my friend Adam, who was doing some landscaping for me. He'd brought me two beautiful healthy azaleas to be planted next to my porch. As he dug and planted he said, "Well, you've got one azalea already."
"Where?" I asked
"Right there." He pointed to the edge of the woods. "That bush there, - it's an azalea. It looks like someone threw it there. It was probably half dead so they just dug it up and tossed it aside; -but somehow it took root and has survived.
And that was the only mention of the scraggly puny azalea bush at the edge of my lot. I did notice it a few weeks later when it attempted to bloom a handful of white flower, but I disregarded it.
It paled in comparison to the two beautiful bushes that had burst forth in glorious, bright pink flowers. I was so enamored with my healthy azaleas. I tended to them each week, - watering them and giving them fertilizer to help them grow.
Throughout the seasons, a large oak tree with low hanging branches sprouted its leaves, and weeds on the edge of the lot grew taller. I forgot all about that azalea bush…until yesterday.
My mom and I spent the day landscaping and she noticed it at the edge of the lot. "Oh look, you have an azalea growing there. " She looked it over. "If you pruned it back it would do well." (Mom's always had a heart for the underdog.)
I took her advice. Armed with nothing but a set of hand pliers, I set out to trim that pitiful looking thing.
Getting to the bush was half the battle. First, I had to cut away the branches of the oak and a pine trees that prevented me from reaching it. Then, as I raked away the weeds and fall leaves surrounding the base, I discovered additional limbs that had been buried, and an ominous looking vine that had entwined itself through the branches.
I began cutting away the dead limbs. After the dead limbs, I pulled out the vine. After the vine, I cut away the scrawny twigs that were only producing a few leaves, -plants are more productive when putting all of their energy towards thick healthy branches. Then, I turned to the wild limbs that had spouted out of control. They had to be trimmed to create the shape I wanted. Finally, I added fertilizer for a catalyst of new life within it. I stepped back to give it a once over.
Once it had been abandoned and disregarded. It had sat neglected as others received favor and attention. But the canopy had been lifted, a parasitic element detached, the dead removed, and the life refocused. I saw what my mother had seen all along: Potential to be something great.