How a Pure Heart Moved the Gods

[Although this story is not directly about the practice of Falun Dafa, it serves as an example of the importance of the cultivation of virtue in traditional Chinese culture, and also demonstrates the principle of "good is rewarded with good."]

This is a story of long ago about my great grandfather and his father, my great great grandfather. It is a well known story in my home town. It is most important in traditional Chinese culture that the young fulfil their parents’ expectations that they will be cared for in old age, and that they will be regarded with respect and listened to. This story is about this kind of virtue.

My great grandfather is the main character in this story. At that time a famine was raging and many members of the population had to leave their homes to make their living. They would normally go to the north-eastern three provinces, which were considered rural areas with broad forests, vast lands, and very few people living there. So my great great grandfather went to that area by foot as there was no modern transportation. His wife was pregnant at the time; before he left home he informed his wife of a name he preferred for either a son or a daughter which ever the case might be and sadly bade her farewell. Soon after my great great grandfather departed his wife gave birth to a son, so he was given the name his father had decided upon. Many years of struggle and hardship passed during which time the boy was brought up by his mother alone. No one knew where his father had gone to since there was no postal communication either. The boy gradually grew up, and he often pondered where his father was, so he asked his mother, and she could only tell him the general area where he might be with no exact information as to his father's whereabouts. The young man became a travelling peddler selling threads, needles, sweets, and some women's cosmetics walking from village to village, town to town. When he was 18, he decided to try and find his father and bring him home. He made preparations for his mother’s welfare enough for her to live on for three years and left on his momentous journey. He went in the direction that his father took many years before, still with his selling baskets from one village to another. Before he left home, he told his mother, he would come back in three years no matter whether he found his father or not.

Three years passed, the young man returned without finding his father. He worked another few years and made some money and had sufficient for another three years for his mother to live on, he then left home again. He came back for the second time still unsuccessful. By now the young man was nearing forty years of age when he decided to make the journey for the third time. At the end of his third journey he was walking through a valley in a mountainous region, when he passed a very basic and what seemed to be a semi derelict cottage which appeared to be unoccupied. After he passed the cottage about 1 kilometre down the road, suddenly peals of thunder and great flashes of lightening cracked from the sky. A deluge of rain came pouring down; the young man had no place to shelter. He then remembered that cottage; he ran back to the cottage, and to his surprise an old man was living inside. They started to converse in a polite manner. The old man asked the young man where he came from and what his family name was. The young man’s accent of my home town brought great joy and happiness to the old man when he realised that this young man was his son. After the storm had passed they both prepared for the long journey home and looked forward to a great family reunion.

It was believed the young man's pure heart and his desire to find his father and his great respect to his father moved the gods, so they led the son to the right way and created the miracle of the rain for him to finally encounter his father.

The second half of the story was that the son was nearly forty after he found his father, he was poor, couldn't find a young pretty girl to marry. Finally, a widow with her feet unwrapped, and pitted complexion, married him, she was my great grandmother. My great grandfather and his wife looked after his parents until they died. They had three children; all were sons, which were considered coming from the father's virtue, a Chinese tradition, was to accumulate virtue which brought about the birth of sons. The three sons were brought up nicely. The oldest and youngest both had big business in Qingdao - a well known, coastal resort city. The second son, my grandfather, had opened a herbal medicine store in his town. He also had very good reputation, when people had problems; they all went to him because he was knowledgeable and just. He always wore a long suit - those traditional Chinese suits you see in Chinese movies. He seldom smiled, but was rather serious, and people who did wrong were afraid to be seen by him because of his righteousness. He also owned some land. He and his brothers became a prominent family in the town; they were no longer as poor as their parents were. Later they were all married; a very big family lived together: my mother and her sister and brothers, as well as her many cousins and their parents.

This was a relatively well-known story and was recorded in our county's historical archives which will only collect and publish the local Chinese folk stories.

My great grandfather was a remarkable man whose kindness moved the gods, and his virtues brought prosperity to his children and grand children.

My county’s name is Gaomi, in Weifang region, Shandong province.