The Golden Axe and the Silver Axe
Long, long ago, deep in the mountains, there lived a kind-hearted woodcutter. Every day he climbed the hills to gather wood, and he sold that wood to care for his mother. He owned very little, but his heart was full and warm.
One summer day, the woodcutter was chopping wood beside a quiet pond. Sweat poured down as he swung his axe again and again. And then, all at once, the axe slipped right out of his hands.
With a splash, the axe sank down into the deep, deep pond. The woodcutter sat down hard on the bank. “Without that axe I cannot gather wood. Oh, what shall I do?” A long sigh slipped out of him.
It was just then. The middle of the pond began to shimmer and glow, and an old mountain spirit with a long white beard rose up from the water. In his hands he held a gleaming golden axe.
“Is this golden axe yours?” the spirit asked. The woodcutter shook his head. “No, it is not. My axe is not so lovely as that one.”
The spirit sank back beneath the water. This time he came up holding a silver axe. “Then is this silver axe yours?” Once more the woodcutter shook his head.
“That one is not mine either. Mine is only a worn and blunted iron axe,” the woodcutter said honestly. Not for a moment did he think of stretching the truth.
The spirit smiled softly. The third thing he brought up was the woodcutter’s very own worn iron axe. “There now, this is your axe.” Gladly the woodcutter nodded yes.
“Your heart is so very true,” the spirit said. “I shall give you the golden axe and the silver axe, both of them.” The woodcutter was so startled he waved his hands.
But the spirit gathered all three axes and placed them into the woodcutter’s arms. Then he melted away, soft and slow, into the misting water. The woodcutter bowed his thanks again and again.
When the woodcutter came home and told his story, a greedy neighbor went rushing off to the pond. He dropped his own axe in on purpose, with a great splash, and waited for the mountain spirit.
When the spirit appeared holding a golden axe, the neighbor blurted out at once, “Yes, that one is mine!” But that was not the truth.
The spirit only gazed at him quietly. The neighbor’s face turned bright red. Even to himself, the lie he had told felt shameful.
The spirit gave him neither the golden axe nor his iron one, and simply vanished. Empty-handed, the neighbor went home with his head hung low. And never again did he try to gain a thing by lying.
The kind woodcutter went on living honestly all his days. People trusted him and loved him dearly. For a heart that stays true is the real treasure, shining brighter than any golden axe.
The woodcutter did not win the golden axe and the silver axe because he was lucky. He won them because of the straight, honest heart that could say, "This one is not mine," even when he knew the only axe he had lost was a worn old iron one.
As you grow, there may be moments when a little lie seems like the easier way to get more. Even then, my darling, I hope you will be the kind of person who quietly chooses the true words. An honest heart may feel like a loss in the moment, but it is what makes you shine for a long, long time.
More than a child who owns a great deal, I hope you grow into a child with a heart that stays true. That straight, honest heart is the real treasure, brighter than any golden axe, brighter than any silver one.