The Blathering Badger
All the ideas in the world mean little if your tongue does all the running...
In all toil there is profit, but mere talk tends only to poverty.
Proverbs 14.23
Bertie was a badger of blistering brilliance, if you asked Bertie. Which nobody did, because nobody had the chance to ask him anything. He just started blathering away the second he laid eyes on anyone.
It was a Wednesday in the middle of March, and it was one of those rare occasions when anyone could get a word in edgewise. A group of woodland animals had gathered in the clearing, and Bertie got a nut stuck in his tooth, which caused him to stop talking long enough for Harold the Hedgehog to pipe up.
"I'm thinking of starting a small business. I… I might open a small shop at the edge of the wood. It would be the perfect trading point between the woodland animals like us and the field mice and others over the hedge."
"Oh, that's a good idea," said Hattie, "You could…"
"Yes, yes, an excellent idea." Said Bertie, having finally dislodged the nut and lodging himself firmly back in the flow of the conversation. He went on.
"I actually have my own idea for a business, which I think I may have mentioned before, quite an excellent idea really, similar to yourself young Harold only I'm waiting to get the last few things in order so to speak before I get it started, but it really is going to be a splendid
He went on.
And on.
And on.
And long before Bertie had finished enumerating his rather excellent business idea (which really was just the same as Harold's, only longer) Harold had wandered off to see if there was a spare piece of land where he could build his little shop.
All summer Harold worked. He gathered wood and built a small hut at the edge of the forest.
All summer Bertie talked about how he had the most splendid plans for his shop, it would have smooth cedar shelving, an oak door and beautiful ornaments outside.
All autumn Harold worked. He bought nuts from the squirrels, corn from the field mice, spun silk from the silkworms. Hattie made corn-cakes and chestnut cookies. Harold stocked shelves and sorted.
All autumn Bertie talked about how his shop would sell the best corn-cakes in the wood, and how he had come up with the most splendid system for organising the shop so that everything would immediately be to hand.
All winter Harold worked. He sold nuts to the field mice, hot corn-cakes to cold squirrels, he bought leftover apples and made warm mulled cider on cold days.
All winter Bertie talked about the splendid recipe he had for mulled cider and how he was going to build a huge vat which would always be steaming with beautiful mulled cider.
Spring time came around again and Harold finally took a week off. He counted out the coins that his little shop had earned and realised he had enough to buy a bigger shop, a house, a ring (because he'd decided to ask Hattie to marry him that summer) and still have plenty left over for a holiday.
Meanwhile, Bertie went home one evening after a long day talking and found his landlord waiting at his door. He hadn't earned a single coin that whole year and the rent was long overdue. Soon, he found himself wandering the woods with all he owned in a small bag over his shoulder.
"Of course," he said to a passing chaffinch, "I shall be quite alright, I have the most splendid plan…"
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Father God, we pray that you would give us diligent hands. Help us to tend not to talk and idle words, but to make the most of the good gifts you have given us. Amen.