text: Benson, Lilith, Harper, and I knelt in the garden, hands locked. Villagers gathered round to hear our prayers. The Flowering Tree sat just mere feet away from where we were planted, waiting to hear Her voice. We needed a miracle. Benson, the oldest of our little family, opened his mouth and let the words pour out. “Mother, we seek your knowledge and your power. We seek help.” Our heads all bobbed, soaking in his words. “Our village is falling, our peoples’ hope gone. We need a sign that it will all be alright." Benson turned his eyes to Harper, urging her to speak out next. She was very young and very shy, afraid to pray aloud in front of the people of our village. She turned to me, silently asking me to speak instead. "Mother, we wish for the prosperity that you have granted us before. We wish to know how to right our wrongs, to know what has caused the denial of our crops, of our harvest. Elder Pine is struggling to stay alive; we need your help." Lilith lifted her chin toward the sky, her striking green eyes searching the clouds for a hidden meaning. Harper still focused on the grass, too afraid to speak. With authority, Benson rose from the grass, brushing the dying flowers of the garden with his fingertips. We all followed his lead, hands still locked. The people of Elder Pine watched on expectantly. Benson took a step forward, freeing himself of our grasps. “My people, the Mother has spoken!” My heart sank; I was unsure of where this was coming from. “Our village will come to prosper soon enough! We will thrive once again.” Flashes of smiles and bubbles of relieved laughter came from the crowd. “Go home, good people, and reflect on what today has brought us. The promise of fruitfulness is here.” They all shuffled off, and Harper shuffled up to Benson’s side. “I’m sorry, brother. I was too afraid.” He looked down at her with kind eyes and smiled our beloved father’s smile. “It’s okay, dear sister. I do not blame you for this. But you must work towards this; our blessed conversations with Mother Nature are precious. I only want for you to know the joy of feeling her there, within you. Come, sit at the Tree with me.” The pair walked away, blissfully happy. Lilith turned to me. “Brie, do you think that he meant it?” she asked as we began toward our hut. “What?” “About hearing the Mother’s voice. Do you really think that we will prosper soon?” “Dearest sister, I trust Benson with all my heart. When father died, his gift was passed onto Benson. Father was Chosen, and so is he. You must have faith. Let’s go sit at the pond and think on it, yes?” My youngest sister nodded and walked with me, holding my hand tightly within hers. Months passed, and still our crops were failing. The village was in chaos. We were nearly out of food, and the pond was beginning to dry up for the season. It was unusually early, so we had not had the time to harvest fresh drinking water before there was nothing left but mud. Benson was out every night, trying to comfort the people, but to no avail. While he was out, my sisters and I sat in our hut on the rug our mother had made when she was just a child and read stories. “It is said to be true that once, a very long time ago, the Mother was seen drinking at a river. She was beautiful,” I read, smiling when Harper and Lilith’s eyes brightened. “Her eyes shone bright green, the color of the leaves in summer, and her hair a beautiful, deep brown, like the earth below the grass. It flowed like a river down to the ground and pooled at her feet, like a pond. She wore a beautiful blue dress, the color of the sky, that flowed around her in the wind. The man who saw her was in awe, but it seemed the Mother knew that he was there. She never turned to him, but she spoke, kind, comforting words: ‘Come, my child, and drink. Drink from the river of hope, and let it wash away all your fears.’ And so, the man drank, and thus his village was born. And it was prosperous, until the end of time.” “And that man was our great-grandfather?” Harper asked, her beautiful green eyes glowing. I nodded, tapping her on the nose. “Is that why Harper’s eyes are green?” Lilith asked. I had to laugh. “Maybe so. Perhaps, when our great-grandfather drank from the river with Mother Nature, some of her was passed into him, and then passed down to us.” “But if the fable says that the village would be prosperous until the end of time, why are we struggling so?” I shrugged, pulling the girls in close. “We just have to have faith.” Harper stood suddenly. “I want to pray at the Flowering Tree,” she declared, determination in her eyes. I smiled, standing beside her, and Lilith following. “Good girl.” The village gathered around the tree once again, and Benson, Lilith, Harper, and I knelt around it. My heart felt heavy as I looked at the beautiful tree; by this time, its winter flowers should have been budding, but not quite blooming. The branches were barren, and the leaves were browning and falling. Harper lifted her eyes to the tree and spoke. “Dearest Mother, I have never spoken to you before. At least not aloud, before my people.” Benson and I shared a smile as the child poured her heart out. “I wish more than anything for you to help us find our prosperity once more. If there is something we have done to upset you, to cause this drought, please make it known. We all love you so very much, and we love each other. Maybe, in the end, that is all that really matters. Perhaps you have a plan for us, and this is just a step on the way to the end of it. I trust you, Mother, and I hope that whatever your plan is, it reveals itself to us soon. Thank you, Mother. We love you.” She bowed her head again and shut her eyes, squeezing my hand tightly. Benson nodded but did not stand. He waited for a very long time, waiting for a sign. The village watched in anticipation. I observed the Flowering Tree once again, and that was when I saw her. Mother Nature, just as she had been described in the story about our great-grandfather. She was beautiful. She walked up to the Flowering Tree and rested a hand on it. Benson, Lilith, and I watched in awe as she extended her other hand, eyes on Harper. Harper looked back and forth to Benson and me, silently asking for permission to approach. Benson, still stunned, managed a nod, and we let go of her hands. She slowly, timidly, approached the beautiful Mother, and stopped just before her. “Harper,” the Mother spoke, her voice as beautiful as Earth itself. “I choose you. I choose you to be the ambassador of life, to be the protector of the land and the water, to be the tender of the flowers. Can you promise me that you will be?” “I promise,” Harper spoke, surer of herself than she had ever been. She took the beautiful Mother Nature’s hand, and suddenly the blooms appeared. The Flowering Tree began its winter blossom, and the garden’s dying flowers regained their color. The crops began to grow, and the pond began to fill. “My dear, I choose you.”