Wildflowers smile on a mountain path
“It’s been raining a lot and the path will be slippery,” my assistant informed me. “Why don’t you just rest today?” Of course she was concerned for my safety, and I thanked her but continued my preparations. In autumn, we have heavy rainstorms, and snow falls in the winter. There are countless reasons and excuses to stay inside. Regardless, after his passing, I departed my room each day at dawn for prayer at my husband’s tomb, and upon returning, I prepared his breakfast and dinner.
As I walked along the path up the hill to the Bonhyangwon and back, he and I shared many heart to heart conversations. My husband’s thoughts became my thoughts, and my thoughts became his.
Korean bonsai pines lined the path to the Bonhyangwon, and underneath them, clusters of wildflowers bloomed in the spring. During the winter, wildflowers disappear, but in spring they bloom profusely, as if competing with each other. I would stop on my way up the steep incline to take a closer look at the grasses and flowers. They displayed their colors beautifully in the spring’s bright morning sun, whether I was there to admire them or not. I would become intoxicated with their beauty, caressing the wildflowers before resuming my ascent up the path. The walk was difficult but my heart would be as serene as the flowers.
When I would reach my husband’s tomb, I would carefully check to see whether any weeds had sprouted among the blades of grass, or whether animals had left any traces. The lawn on the grave became greener and greener as time went by. Sitting alone in front of his tomb, I would pray for everyone in the world to be as beautiful as wildflowers, to have minds as strong as pine trees, and to always live prosperous lives as green as a summer lawn. On my way down I would say farewell to the flowers and pine trees, “My friends of the natural world, I will meet you again tomorrow.”
The path I would walk was the same each day, but the weather was never the same. There would be days when I felt the warm rays of the sun; there were windy days, rainy days when thunder roared and lightning struck, and snowy days covering everything in white.
During this three-year period of devotions, I also retraced my husband’s travels throughout the United States, traveling nearly 4,000 miles as my husband had done in 1965, and visited the 12 mountain peaks we had toured in the Swiss Alps to pray and meditate. Through these devotions, our spiritual oneness deepened into eternity.
In traditional Korea, offering such filial devotions in remembrance of one’s deceased parents was expected. Representing the family, the first son would build a small hut just to the west of his father’s or mother’s tomb, and live in it for three years, regardless of the weather, even if unable to eat properly or make a living through this period. Those three years represent the three years after we are born, when we receive our father’s and especially our mother’s full love and care, without which we would not have survived. This time of devotion is a time to acknowledge, show gratitude and return that love and kindness.
Today, there are too many people who forget their father’s and mother’s kindness. From those who lack filial piety toward their own parents, comprehension of Heavenly Parent and the True Parents, who have shed tears over humanity’s suffering , cannot be expected. People today live without any connection to the True Parents, not knowing that they are here on earth.
To awaken people who have eyes but cannot see, as my husband’s wife, I offered devotions in remembrance of True Father every day for three years, on behalf of all people. With this depth of commitment, I promised my husband and all the members of our worldwide movement: I will bring us back to the spirit of the early days of our church, and I will create a revival through spirit and truth.
I dream of a church that feels like a mother’s warm embrace, a church that is like a home, where people always want to come and stay. This is my husband’s dream as well. Honoring him, I made the decision to dedicate myself to God and all of humankind even more than before. Since that hour, I have never fully rested.
Then, in 2015, moved by my husband’s unchanging heart, I prepared his gift for humanity. May the Sunhak Peace Prize stand forever as an expression of his eternal commitment to peace.