My friend, Beto
My wife had just met her biological father for the first time in the winter of 2017. One weekend, we had been invited over to his house to meet a few of his relatives.
Turning down the street towards the house on the East side of El Paso, I noticed an older man, maybe in his late 70’s, on his hands and knees, working in a beautiful garden. He was the next-door neighbor. This garden was unlike any I had ever seen in my life: exotic trees, fruits, and vegetables had sprouted to their fullest potential. When I parked the car, I routinely began the process of getting my kids out of the vehicle. I noticed that the “garden man” next door gave me a wave.
I walked over and introduced myself to “Beto,” a 73 yeard old retired farmworker from Mexico City, MX. Upon shaking his hand, I complemented Beto on his beautiful work in the garden. Next thing you know, I am in his living room talking about life.
Beto comes from a long line of hard workers — his parents owned an avocado farm outside of Mexico City and were one of the leading suppliers of avocado distribution in the state of Sinaloa. He raised his family in the states so that they could build a better future outside of farming as the Sinaloa Cartel in the ’80s were aggressively taking over the avocado trade in a murderous fashion. Beto has no education but taught himself to read and write through the help of various mentors. He mostly enjoys reading poetry and Chicano literacy. Beto was a successful individual who understood the game of life. We couldn’t be more different.
After what seemed to be 5 minutes turned to half an hour of great conversation. My wife texted me to ask where I had gone to, not knowing that I had just made a new friend. I wrapped up the discussion with Beto and started making my way back to my wife and kids next door. When I got up to walk out the door, Beto tells me to wait. All of a sudden, he came out with a garden pot with some fresh soil. He gave me the pot and said to me that Palmargranit seeds where planted in the pot.
“Son, I want you to take this pot and seeds — plant it in your house. I want you to take care of it and watch it grow. Consistency, commitment, and love are what you need in this world to be successful. Measure your successes through the growth of this pomegranate tree. Oh, and bring me back my pot”. Beto’s words ran through my brain like a freight train striking a deer. What did he mean by this statement? Does he see something in me that I don’t?
About nine months later, I returned to Beto’s house with an empty garden pot as requested. Beto invited me back to his home for a cup of coffee. I found myself trying to build the confidence to ask him what he meant by measuring success with the growth of the pomegranate tree. After the second cup of coffee, I finally asked. Beto replied to my questions with, “Son, do you read the bible?”. Beto then reached for his Bible that looked like a bulldozer had run over it. He stated, “Isaiah 58:11- And the Lord will continually guide you, And satisfy your desire in scorched and dry places, And give strength to your nones; And you will be like a garden. And like a spring of water whose waters do not fail”. Beto explained that this verse is how he lives his life, from building a better experience for him and his family to watching his kids grow to be successful lawyers and a therapist. Life gives you the ability to grow, no matter the obstacles — take advantage of the times when life gives you water to grow.
“Son, I see you have all the potential in the world; you need to go find water.”
That single verse changed the way I look at growth and success. We must look for opportunities to grow as individuals in all areas of life. Opportunities don’t merely come to us; we go to them. Beto’s advice has given me the ability to view success as a personal victory that could never be truly satisfying, always striving for more.
Since meeting Beto, I have moved out of my hometown to seek new adventures and to grow personally and professionally. I am a leader — I am finding my water.
To this day, I can’t thank the Lord enough for gravitating me towards Beto. Another nine months have come and gone — my pomegranate tree has grown and sprouted each season elegantly — much like my personal and professional life. Everything happens for a reason. Thank you for being my friend, Beto.