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I had a great relationship with my grandfather. We were best of buddies. Maybe it was also because I was the only grandson he had, so I was kind of the apple among the sea of oranges.
When I was a wee child, I had the opportunity to follow grandpapa back to the village where he grew up. It was a small village, about 300 in population. It was near a foothill, the air was fresh and the beautiful surroundings popped out like a scene in Narnia. It was like the other side of heaven. Everyday we had scones and milk, now that I think of it I could almost taste it in my mouth. The clotted cream and jam.
There was something special about that place. It wasn't because of the amazing view, or that people there were extremely nice. Behind the stillness of it all was a history so dark one could only shiver at the mention of it.
It is said that many ages ago, the village was at the central of a power struggle between two opposing rulers. They were once a band of brothers, but wealth and power had overcame their hearts.
Soon, they found themselves persuaded by selfish whispers, lies and deceit filled their counsel. Slowly, conflicts crept in like the darkness of the night, consuming their thoughts and desires.
Battles ensued, with only the purpose to divide and conquer. The goal was to possess an much lands and villages. Many lives had fallen, many families broken. Simple folks who did not buy in to their mission fled at the sight of terror. But in the midst of despair, a miracle happened.
During one of the battles, both rulers found themselves fighting heads on with each other near a fenced little yard. There was a field of beautiful wild flowers spreaded across the foothill. As they were approaching each other, they noticed a little girl plucking some wild flowers and tying them on the wired fence. One by one, she tied them carefully, afraid she might break their fragile little stems.
They were so intrigued at the calmness of the child, they stopped to approach the child with the intention to chase her home.
"Wee child, what are you doing here all alone? Don't you know there's a battle going on? It's a dangerous place, go on now and tarry not. Your mother must be worried sick!" said one of the rulers.
She continued weaving the flowers across the wired fence, almost ignoring the two grown men standing opposite the fence. And then she stopped.
"My mama is long gone now. She is now with the angels. She told me that whenever I feel lonely or afraid, I can come here and tie some wild flowers to the fence and say a little prayer, and everything will be alright! I know you're fighting each other, sirs. My uncle told me so. I was very afraid when I heard the news, so I came here to pick some wild flowers and say a little prayer, hoping that the angels will stop you from fighting further and love each other instead. It takes a whole village to raise a child, so why not be good rulers and rule the nation together?"
They were astounded by the wisdom of the wee one it almost put them to shame.
The battles ended that day.
The story of that encounter spread, and since then the practice of tying a little wild flower to the fence continued 'til this very day. It is an act of blessing and peace to anyone who visits.
art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics
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