The Parable of the Daughter-in-Law and the Mother-in-Law: Poison in the Heart
In the quaint little village of Willowbrook, where cottages nestled among lush gardens, young Emily married her beloved William. After the wedding, the newlyweds moved in with his mother, Agnes. But Emily’s joy soon soured—Agnes was a stern woman, and her endless nitpicking cut like a knife. Heartbroken and desperate, Emily decided she’d had enough and resolved to rid herself of the torment once and for all.
One gloomy afternoon, she trekked to the edge of the village to visit old Nathaniel, a herbalist and friend of her late father, known for his remedies and potions. She knew he wouldn’t refuse her.
“Nathaniel, I can’t live with Agnes any longer!” she blurted the moment she stepped inside his cottage. “She’s poisoning my life! Help me, and I’ll pay you handsomely!”
The herbalist squinted at her, his eyes deep as wells, as if seeing straight through her.
“What is it you want from me, Emily?” he asked softly.
“Poison,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder as though afraid of being overheard. “I’ll rid myself of her and end this misery.”
Nathaniel stroked his grizzled beard in silence for a long while. At last, he sighed and spoke.
“Very well, I’ll help. But there are two conditions you must accept. First: you can’t kill Agnes outright. People would suspect you. I’ll give you herbs that work slowly, so no one will guess it’s poison. Second: to avoid suspicion, you must master your anger. Learn to respect her, listen, be patient. Become her daughter, not her foe. Then, when she passes, no one will blame you.”
Though doubtful, Emily nodded. She took the small pouch of herbs he handed her and hurried home.
From that day on, Emily sprinkled the herbs into Agnes’s meals—her soups, porridge, tea. But she also made an effort. She forced smiles when Agnes grumbled, patiently endured her advice, however absurd it seemed. She helped with chores, asked about Agnes’s past, and softened her tone.
At first, it was agony. Every word from Agnes made Emily seethe, but she gritted her teeth and persevered. Slowly, Agnes noticed the change. Her sharp looks softened, her scolding turned to praise.
“What a treasure of a daughter-in-law!” Agnes would tell the neighbors, her eyes shining with pride. “You won’t find a better lass than Emily!”
Within months, they’d grown so close that Emily barely noticed she’d come to love Agnes. They’d chat for hours over tea, bake scones together, laugh over silly things. Agnes became a second mother to Emily, and Emily, a true daughter to Agnes.
But one day, watching Agnes smile, Emily suddenly remembered the herbs. Her heart lurched with horror. She couldn’t lose Agnes now—not when she’d become so dear! In a panic, she raced back to Nathaniel, near tears.
“Nathaniel, please!” she cried, bursting into his cottage. “Save my mother-in-law! I’ve been poisoning her, but I don’t want her to die! She’s wonderful—I love her like my own mother!”
The herbalist smiled kindly and shook his head.
“Don’t fret, Emily,” he said gently. “I never gave you poison. That pouch was just dried mint and chamomile. The only poison was in your heart—and you’ve already cured yourself.”
Emily froze, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. She rushed home, threw her arms around Agnes, and for the first time, felt her heart truly free of bitterness.
