As I look at the ripening seeds beneath the sharp autumn sunlight, I find myself gently touching, one by one in my heart, the invisible seeds of tomorrow that are forming within our future. The very fact that we have a tomorrow—and that, like trees and flowers, we too can bear and leave behind the seeds of that tomorrow in our daily lives—is something that moves me deeply.

One day, our family went to a bowling alley. The place was as large as a sports field, filled on every lane with parents who had brought their young children. Cheers, applause, and the crisp sound of pins falling created a lively, slightly noisy atmosphere. Our family was also shouting joyfully with the kids, having a wonderful time, when suddenly a new family crowded into the lane beside us.

I noticed a young white father beginning a game with his daughters, who looked about eight or nine years old. Among them was a tiny Asian girl with black hair—so small she looked barely old enough to be walking steadily. She seemed to be an adopted child. The young father held a red bowling ball in one hand and wrapped his other arm around the little girl, encouraging her to push the ball with all her might toward the pins standing in the distance.

At first, the little girl hesitated shyly in her father’s arms. But gathering her courage, she placed her small hands over his and pushed the ball forward. The bowling ball slowly rolled down the lane, struck two or three pins, and disappeared into the darkness. The child’s eyes widened in astonishment, and she began shouting with delight, jumping up and down, unable to contain her joy. Of course, she had no idea that her father had secretly given the ball a strong push with his three fingers inside the holes.

Even if today we are wrestling with pain, hardship, or suffering, when we hold on to the living hopes contained in the fresh life called tomorrow, we can turn today’s struggle into a good and noble fight.

— Yoon Wan‑hee, September 7, 1998