Once upon a time, in a remote, unfriendly village that clung to the side of a mountain, there lived an old woman whose habits seemed strange to her neighbors. Since the harsh winters kept most villagers huddled near their fireplaces, they did not cultivate the art of hospitality, and rarely spoke to anyone outside their immediate families.
The mountainside, itself bleak and barren, beckoned no one toward its slopes, even in the less harsh seasons of the year. Only the children ventured to climb, ever so stealthily, partway up its side; a daring feat that they were cautioned not to do by their parents.
During such furtive forays, they inevitably met the old woman. Most of the time she was bending over, digging a little hole in the ground, and dropping a tiny something into it. The braver children asked: “what are you doing, old woman?” Her reply was always the same: “I am changing the face of the mountain.”
The children grew into adulthood, and most left the village for the world of cities. It came to pass, however, after several decades, one grown child returned to show her husband and children the harsh environment of her youth that she had often described to them. She came back but she did not recognize it.
The mountainside was ablaze with a dazzling array of colorful flowers gently swaying in the breeze. Clusters of bushes and young trees lent their foliage as shade to the myriads of children and adults gathered along the base of the mountain. All spoke to each other, laughed and played games. Families and neighbors picnicked together.
The woman who had returned stopped one of the villagers to ask: “When did all of this come about? What happened to the bleak and barren mountainside of my childhood?” The villager replied: “Do you remember the strange old woman who lived here, the one who would wander up and down the mountainside?” It was she who planted these seeds. She went out every day, intent on her sowing; believing all the while the results would fruit.”
The woman did recall the image of this old and bent figure from her childhood. At last, she understood the meaning of these words: “I am changing the face of the mountain.
This story was shared with me some years ago. However, this week it surfaced in my thoughts as a message that I needed to hear and reflect upon. May we plant seeds for the good of all.
Artwork by my dear friend Diane Barrows
Shared by Liz Sorensen Wessel
