Imagine a little house, not very cheerful at that moment, because inside, a mother was watching her very sick little baby. She hadn't slept for days, just rocking and hoping.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock. An old man, wrapped in a big cloak, stood at the door. "It's so cold out," he shivered. The mother, kind even in her worry, let him in to warm himself. She sat back down, and for just a tiny second, her eyes closed. When she opened them, the old man was gone, and so was her baby! "Oh no!" she cried, realizing the old man must have been Death himself.

She ran out into the snowy night. "Night!" she called to the darkness. "Have you seen Death go by with my little one?"
Night, as dark as velvet, replied, "Yes, I saw him. But if you want to know which way he went, you must first sing me all the lullabies you ever sang to your child."
So the mother sang every sweet, sleepy song she knew. Her voice was sad, but she sang them all.
"Now," said Night, "you must give me your bright eyes. Only then can I show you his path."
Without a thought, the mother gave her eyes to Night, and though she couldn't see, Night whispered, "He went that way, towards the thorny bush."

The mother stumbled blindly on, her hands outstretched, until she felt sharp thorns. "Thorny Bush," she pleaded, "did Death pass this way with my baby?"
The Thorny Bush shivered. "Yes, but I am so cold, frozen stiff. If you warm me with your own heart, I will tell you."
So the mother pressed her warm body against its sharp, icy thorns. Her blood dripped onto the bush, and it began to thaw. Pink flowers bloomed on its branches. "Thank you," sighed the Bush. "Death went towards the big lake."

She reached a big, wide lake. "Lake," she called, her voice trembling, "did Death cross here with my child?"
The Lake rippled. "Yes, but I am very deep. If you weep all your tears into me, enough to fill me with your sorrow, I will carry you across."
The mother wept and wept, thinking of her lost baby, until her tears flowed into the lake. The lake felt her sorrow and gently carried her across to the other side.

There, she found a strange, quiet greenhouse. An old woman with kind eyes stood guard. "Please," the mother begged, "is this Death's garden? Is my child here?"
The old woman nodded. "Yes, this is where Death keeps the flowers of life. But to enter, you must give me your long, dark hair. It will become white like mine, and then you may pass."
The mother quickly unbound her beautiful hair and gave it to the old woman. Her dark hair turned white as snow, and the old woman showed her the way in.

Inside, it was amazing! There were flowers and trees of all kinds, big and small, strong and weak. Each plant was a person's life. The mother felt around with her hands, searching. Her heart knew. She touched a tiny, drooping flower. "My baby!" she whispered.
Just then, Death returned. "How did you find your way here?" he asked.
"Give me back my child!" cried the mother, shielding the little flower. "Or I will pull up all your other flowers, and they will wither too!"

Death was not angry. He was very calm. "Look," he said, and he showed the mother two paths in a magical vision. One path was full of sunshine and laughter, a life of joy. The other path was filled with shadows and tears, a life of hardship and sadness.
"One of these was the life your child would have lived on Earth," Death explained. "If I give your child back, they will live that life. If I take them to God's garden, they will know only peace, but you will not see them grow."
The mother looked at the path of shadows and tears. Her heart ached. "No," she whispered. "I cannot choose that for my child. If it is God's will... then take my child to a place of peace." It was the hardest choice a mother could make.
Death nodded gently. He took the little drooping flower and carried it away, not to wither, but to be replanted in God's beautiful, unknown garden, where all is well.
The mother stood alone, her heart full of sorrow, but also with a strange peace, knowing she had chosen out of the deepest love.

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