Story – His Way in the Fire

Feeling that it was her duty, because of the acute need for school teachers, Miss Haven responded to a call to finish out the year in a little rural school. She had had little or no experience with rural schools and felt great need of wisdom.

Each morning when she arrived to open the little schoolhouse, as she placed the key in the door, she whispered, “Dear God, another day lies before me, and I feel so much need for Your help. Please be with me and forbid that I should do anything to bring reproach to Thy name.”

Then entering the room with its four rows of marked and scarred desks, she attended to her blackboard work, tidied up her desk, and with a glance at the clock, thought, Just time enough for a little prayer before the first youngsters begin to arrive.

Humbly she knelt before her chair, buried her face in her hands, and in the quietness of the room, with only the steady tick tock of the clock and the snapping of the fire in the background, she talked—really talked—with the Great Teacher.

But there was one late April morning that this regular program of devotions was interrupted. On her way to school, the teacher overtook some of her pupils who had decided to come to school a bit earlier than usual; so she stopped her car and asked them to ride along with her. As she chatted with them and placed the key in the door, her thoughts were not upon her great need. And as she went about her routine of board work, tidying her desk, and other little tasks, the children were sandwiching in conversation about a new baby that had been born in the little village, a new dress that Hazel had been given, and other such overnight news that means so much to school children. So it was that the little talk with God was crowded out entirely.

During the opening exercises, however, as the children repeated their Bible verses and said the Lord’s Prayer, Miss Haven remembered her neglect and said, “O dear God, forgive me. And please help me today.” Little did she know the experience in store for her.

Since it was such a warm day in April, a number of the neighbors were mowing their lawns and burning leaves. Adjacent to the school grounds and just over the fence from the play yard there was a grove where the school children had habitually thrown paper bags, wax paper, and other trash from their lunch boxes. This had become an eyesore, and during the three weeks that the new teacher had been at the school, she had been anxious to have it cleaned up. The children had assured her that it was all right to throw their trash out there, but on inquiring of the chairman of the school board, she had learned that he desired to have the practice stopped and the ground cleared.

The morning studies were over and the regular time for the Friday afternoon civic group meeting arrived. Miss Haven spoke to the children about the matter of cleaning up the grove. Gladly they responded, and bands were formed and set to work, so that in seemingly no time the waste material had been brought into the center of the schoolyard and piled for burning. Orders were given for two pails of water to be brought, brooms and sticks were sought out, and with six of the older boys on guard, the fire was set. Within a very short time the waste had become ashes, and water was poured over the remains. It was too early to dismiss school, so the children were summoned into the schoolroom to finish the afternoon with a program of songs and speaking. Two of the older boys volunteered to clean up the ashes that remained in the center of the yard and carry them away. In short order, they were back to join in the fun.

About a half hour later an agitated neighbor burst into the room and announced, “Do you know that the woods down the road are all afire, and there’s not a soul to help fight the blaze? Instantly, the teacher gave orders for the little folks to be taken care of while she, with a group of older boys and girls, armed themselves with brooms and sticks and hastened to the scene.

The dump where the boys had disposed of the ashes was at the edge of the woods. Undoubtedly, the ashes that had been disposed there had caused the outburst of flames that now was traveling in all directions and endangering the farmhouse across the field.

“Boys and girls, do your best—beat the flames with your brooms, and be careful not to get burned,” the anxious teacher shouted. Then she rushed away to see what other help could be found. However, there was a war at the time, and all the men were eight miles away, working in the shipyard. Realizing how helpless the situation was, she recalled that “man’s extremity is God’s opportunity.” She rushed into the little schoolhouse, threw herself down before her swivel chair, and cried out in anguish, “O dear God, please send help. Please don’t let the fire get up to that farmhouse. I’ve made a terrible mistake, been so unwise. Please forgive me, and please, God, check this fire.”

Then she arose, looked out the window, and as though to defeat her courage, the flames seemed to be reaching higher and angrier than ever.

Again she sank to her knees and cried, “Dear Father, You are able to do what I have asked. Please grant my request in such a way that those boys and girls down there who are beating the flames will know it was You who put it out.”

This time as she looked out the window, she saw a man hastening down the road with a large hand pump and extinguisher. As she watched, she prayed. The efforts of one man and the small band of children seemed so feeble. The field was as dry as tinder and was rapidly burning!

Dear me, thought the teacher, can it be that God did not hear me, is not going to answer?

A third time she bowed in prayer, saying, “Dear Father, I leave it with You. I know nothing is too hard for You. And now, dear Father, if it be Thy will, let these children know that Thou art able to do great things.”

Was that the door opening? Yes, and in came her little band of boys and girls, smeared with smoke, flourishing their brooms (some of them by now mere broomsticks). They crowded around their teacher and shouted, “All out!”

“But,” added Charlie, “we never could have done it if we hadn’t known you were here praying. One of the boys peeked in the window to see why you weren’t down fighting the fire with us, and he came running back and told us you were fighting it on your knees. He told us, ‘Teacher’s up there praying so keep fighting.’ ”

Tears welled up in Miss Haven’s eyes as she bowed her head and said with a choking voice, “Thank you, dear God, for helping them.”

My Favorite Prayer Stories, Joe L. Wheeler, ©2015, 73–75

Story – The Promise of a Song

Ellie edged her chair closer to the grown ups who were visiting in the kitchen. Grandpa, Grandma, and Aunt Lily had stopped by for a visit, and although she didn’t always understand the conversation, she loved to listen. She found that she learned a lot of things that way.

The topic this evening was about something related to church and that got her mind to thinking about singing during Sabbath morning worship services. Although Ellie was only five years old, she very much loved to sing. She thought about the fact that her dear Grandpa was a song leader in their church and how much she liked when he led a song.

At Ellie’s church the song leaders all sat around a table near the center of the church. They took turns choosing a song and then leading it for the congregation. Ellie didn’t always know the songs that were chosen. They sang out of a little black hymnbook that had lots of songs with hard words and tunes she didn’t recognize. However, in the back of this little songbook was a section called, “The Appendix” and here were hymns that were familiar to her and she was always pleased when a song was announced from that part of the book. While she couldn’t read yet, her favorite song, number 8 in the hymnal, was “Saviour, Like a Shepherd Lead Us.” When that particular song was announced on a Sabbath morning, she always felt a twinge of excitement. She would be able to help along with this song!

I wish we would sing that song again, thought Ellie. It’s been a long time since we have.

Then a sudden thought struck her. Why couldn’t she ask Grandpa to choose that song next Sabbath?

Yes, I will ask him and see what he says about that idea, she smiled to herself. She decided to wait until her grandparents were ready to leave. She followed Grandpa out the door and as he walked across the porch, she quickly stepped up next to him. “Grandpa,” she asked, “Do you think you could lead the song ‘Saviour, Like a Shepherd Lead Us’ this next Sabbath? I would really like to sing it again!” She felt suddenly shy at having asked such a question, and she ducked back toward the doorway of the house.

Grandpa smiled down at her. “I think I can do that. Is that a song you like?” His eyes twinkled at Ellie. “I’ll be happy to lead that one just for you.”

Ellie could scarcely wait for church the following Sabbath. She would get to sing her song. Grandpa said he would choose it and she had no doubt he would do as he said.

Sabbath morning, she waited eagerly for the song service to begin. The first and second songs were ones that were not familiar to her. Then came time for the third one. “Let’s sing hymn number 8,” announced the song leader. Ellie’s heart sang. They were going to sing her favorite song. Her Grandpa had honored her request. Her eyes shone as she joined in the singing of the beautiful song. It was a lovely hymn that spoke of Jesus’ care as a Shepherd and a Friend, and how He would always keep His children close to Himself.

Later, after church was over and they were on their way home, Ellie remarked to her mother, “Grandpa chose that one song, just like I asked him to!”

Ellie’s mom looked a bit startled. “You asked him to lead a song today? When did you ask him?”

“Yes, I did. The other evening when they visited, I asked him if he could lead it today and he said he would. And he did!” Ellie said with delight.

Mom had a strange look on her face, and she was quiet for a moment.

“Did you know that Grandpa and Grandma weren’t there today? At the last minute they decided to visit elsewhere this morning for church.” Mom smiled tenderly at her little daughter. “It seems that God knew what a little girl’s heart was desiring and He led another brother to choose the song you like so much. That’s so amazing, isn’t it?” Ellie nodded. To think that Grandpa wasn’t even at church today, and still they sang her favorite song anyway! It gave her such a special feeling to know that Jesus cared for her that much.

Today, Ellie is a grown-up woman and has children of her own. Whenever she thinks about how Jesus cares for all His children, she especially remembers how God cared about one little five-year-old girl and the song she loved so much. As her mother said, and still does, “Of course God cares. He loves all the little children of the world.”

Saviour, like a Shepherd lead us,

Much we need Thy tender care.

In Thy pleasant pastures feed us,

For our use Thy folds prepare:

Blessed Jesus! blessed Jesus!

Thou hast bought us, Thine we are.

Blessed Jesus! blessed Jesus!

Thou hast bought us, Thine we are.

The Heartbeat of the Remnant, Vol. 27, Issue 2, Summer 2022, Eileen H. Wenger, 18, 19

Story – Little Scotch Granite

Burt and Johnny Lee were delighted when their Scottish cousin Willie came to live with them. He was as far along in his studies as they were; and the first day he went to school, they thought him a very good student. He wasted no time in play when he should have been studying, and he recited well.

At night, just before the close of school, the teacher called a roll, and the boys began to answer, “Ten.” When Willie understood that he was to say “ten” if he had not whispered during the day, he replied, “I have whispered.”

“More than once?” asked the teacher.

“Yes, sir,” answered Willie.

“As many as ten times?”

“Maybe I have,” he said slowly.

“Then I shall mark you ‘zero,’ ” said the teacher sternly, “and that is a very great disgrace.”

“Why, I did not see you whisper once,” said Johnny that night after school.

“Well, I did,” said Willie, “I saw others doing it, and so I asked to borrow a book; then I lent a slate pencil, and asked a boy for a knife, and did several such things. I supposed it was allowed.”

“Oh, we all do that,” said Burt, reddening. “There isn’t any sense in the old rule, and nobody could keep it. Nobody does.”

“I will, or else I will say I haven’t,” said Willie. “Do you suppose I would tell ten lies in one heap?”

“Oh, we don’t call them lies,” muttered Johnny.

“There wouldn’t be a credit among us at night if we were so strict.”

“What of that, if you told the truth?” laughed Willie bravely.

In a short time, the boys all saw how it was with this truthful little Scottish boy. He studied hard, played with all his might in playtime, but from his own account he lost more credits than any of the rest.

After some weeks, the other boys answered nine and eight oftener than they used to. Yet the schoolroom seemed to have grown much more quiet. Sometimes, when Willie Grant’s mark was even lower than usual, the teacher would smile, but said no more of “disgrace.”

Willie never preached at the boys or told tales. But somehow it made the boys ashamed of themselves, just seeing that this sturdy, blue-eyed Scottish boy must tell the truth. They felt like cheats and “storytellers.” They talked about him among themselves and loved him, if they did nickname him “Scotch Granite,” because he was so firm about a promise.

At the end of the term, Willie’s name was very low down in the credit list. When it was read, he had hard work not to cry, for he had tried hard to be perfect.

The very last thing that day was a speech by the teacher.

“I want to give a little gold medal to the most faithful boy, the one really the most conscientiously perfect in his deportment,” he said. “Who shall have it?”

“Little Scotch Granite!” shouted forty boys at once. For the child whose name was so low on the credit list had made truth noble in their eyes.

Is every boy in your school a “Scotch Granite”?

Balloons, Selections from the True Education Series, ©1930, 53–55

Story – Remember the Sabbath Day

The church bell was ringing. Nine o’clock, it tolled. Johnny liked to dress up in his best suit. He was ready to go to church, for today was the Sabbath.

Soon Mother and Daddy, Don, Alice, and Ted were ready to go. So they left home and walked toward the church several blocks away. On the corner Johnny met a friend, Joan.

“We are going to church,” Johnny chirped happily.

“We don’t go to church today; we go tomorrow!” Joan answered saucily.

“Tomorrow is Sunday!” Johnny promptly informed her.

“I know. That’s the day to go to church,” she replied, and skipped down the street.

Johnny was puzzled. “Daddy, why do we go to church today instead of Sunday?” asked Johnny, as they walked along the sidewalk.

“Well, son, the Bible says: ‘Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God.’ We go to church today because it is the seventh day, the Sabbath. It is one of God’s commandments.”

Johnny found his class at Sabbath School, and sat down quietly. He was happy.

First the leader had the children sing several songs, and then everyone knelt down, and the teacher prayed to God. She asked the heavenly Father to care for the boys and girls and help them to do what is right.

After Sabbath School, the family sat together in their usual place and listened to the sermon. When the service was over, they went home and had their lunch. Then Johnny and his dog Spotty went out in the back garden. The day was warm and lovely and Johnny lay down on the soft grass to watch the fleecy clouds in the blue sky.

While he was lying on the grass, he saw two bluebirds flying back and forth to the apple tree. Each bird carried a straw or string in its beak as it flew to the tree.

Johnny kept quiet and watched, and soon spied the branch where the bluebirds were working. His feathered friends were building a nest. It was such fun to watch!

After a while he saw Mother and Daddy walking in the yard among the flowers. He called softly to them, for he didn’t want to disturb the birds. They came over, and Mother exclaimed, “Isn’t this a lovely Sabbath day!”

“Oh, yes, Mother. I’ve been watching the bluebirds building their nest. Do you want to see them?” He showed them the nest in the apple tree. They watched until the birds flew away.

“Let’s go for a walk, Johnny, and see how many kinds of birds we can find,” suggested Daddy.

In a little while, Mother, Daddy, and Johnny were walking through the field on their way to the creek. They sat down on the rocks near the rippling water and watched for birds. They saw sparrows, blue jays, hawks, blackbirds, robins, and a red-throated hummingbird, its wings whirring as it sipped nectar from the wild flowers.

Daddy suggested that Johnny learn the fourth commandment while they sat there by the creek.

Johnny kept repeating the words after his father until he knew God’s fourth rule. It is a long commandment, so he had to work hard to learn it all.

“How can we remember the Sabbath?”

“First, we can remember the Sabbath by going to church and worshiping God there,” suggested Mother. “Our heavenly Father is pleased when He sees us come into His house, just as we are happy to see a friend come to our house to visit.”

“We remember the holy Sabbath when we go outdoors and look at the beautiful things God created,” Daddy added.

“I know another way,” spoke up Johnny. “We can read the Bible, and learn the commandments, as we’re doing now.”

Johnny sat quietly looking at the rippling water. Then he said thoughtfully: “Is that why you clean the house and cook so many good things on Friday, so you won’t have to work on Sabbath?”

“That’s right,” Mother nodded.

“Daddy never goes to his office on the Sabbath, either.”

“Yes,” Daddy added, “and you know the men who work for me never work on the Sabbath. Some of the men do not believe in God, but everyone who works for me has the Sabbath day for rest anyway. The commandment says: ‘In it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates.’

“One time,” continued Daddy, “when we lived on the farm, my neighbor wanted to borrow one of my teams of horses and the driver on Sabbath morning. He knew I did not have the men or the horses work on that day, so he thought he would not be bothering me in my work to ask for them on a day when I did not use them. I had to explain to him that God’s rule said the cattle and the workmen were not to work on the Sabbath either. I told him I would let him use them on another day of the week.

“The man could not understand, but he said to me: ‘If that’s what your God says, you’d better obey. I’ll not ask you to disobey Him.’

“Months later this neighbor came to us for help when he and his family were in trouble. He told me he knew he could trust us, for we were so careful to keep God’s commandments. Finally, the man and his family decided to study the Bible with us, and they are now keeping the Sabbath, too.”

“That’s a wonderful story, Daddy!” exclaimed Johnny.

“Well, it’s time for us to start home,” Daddy reminded Mother and Johnny.

The sun had almost set when they reached the front porch of their home. Alice and Ted were back from the afternoon meeting of the young folk, and the family sat down and read from the Bible. Then they knelt in prayer as the sun sank behind the hills.

“It’s been a good Sabbath,” Mother said.

Taken from God’s Ten Rules, Ethyl M. Neff, ©1948, 35–43

Story – God and the Spider

During World War II, a U.S. marine was separated from his unit on a Pacific Island. The fighting had been intense, and in the smoke and the crossfire he had lost touch with his comrades.

Alone in the jungle, he could hear enemy soldiers coming in his direction. Scrambling for cover, he found his way up a high ridge to several small caves in the rock. Quickly he crawled inside one of the caves. Although safe for the moment, he realized that once the enemy soldiers looking for him swept up the ridge, they would quickly search all the caves and he would be killed.

As he waited, he prayed, “Lord, if it be Your will, please protect me. Whatever Your will though, I love You and trust You. Amen.”

After praying, he lay quietly listening to the enemy begin to draw close. He thought, “Well, I guess the Lord isn’t going to help me out of this one.” Then he saw a spider begin to build a web over the front of his cave.

As he watched, listening to the enemy searching for him all the while, the spider layered strand after strand of web across the opening of the cave.

“Ha,” he thought, “what I need is a brick wall and what the Lord has sent me is a spider web. God does have a sense of humor.”

As the enemy drew closer, he watched from the darkness of his hideout and could see them searching one cave after another. As they came to his, he got ready to make his last stand. To his amazement, however, after glancing in the direction of his cave, they moved on. Suddenly, he realized that with the spider web over the entrance, his cave looked as if no one had entered for quite a while. “Lord, forgive me,” prayed the young man. “I had forgotten that in You a spider’s web is stronger than a brick wall.”

We all face times of great trouble. When we do, it is so easy to forget the victories that God would work in our lives, sometimes in the most surprising ways. As the great leader, Nehemiah, reminded the people of Israel when they faced the task of rebuilding Jerusalem, “In God we will have success!” Nehemiah 2:20

Remember, whatever is happening in your life, with God, a mere spider’s web can become a brick wall of protection. Believe He is with you always. Just speak His name through Jesus His Son, and you will see His great power and love for you.

Source: truthbook.com

Story – Honest George

One day some years ago when people traveled mostly by trains, an energetic shoeshine boy stepped up to a man standing on a platform in Grand Central Station in New York City. “How about a shoeshine, Mister?” the boy asked.

“Well,” the man replied, “I could use a shoeshine. But do I have time? I need to catch the Hudson River train.”

“There’s no time to lose,” the boy admitted. “But I can do a good job for you before the train pulls out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Ok,” the man agreed. And in two seconds, the boy was down on his knees putting on the polish.

“You won’t let the train leave without me, will you?” the man asked anxiously, looking at his watch and then at the train nearby.

“No, I won’t sir,” the boy assured him, and he quickly reached for his brushes and began buffing the man’s shoes to a high gloss.

“What’s your name?” asked the man.

“George Holmes.”

“Is your father living?”

“No, sir. He’s dead. There’s no one except Mother and me. There you are, sir, and the train is starting to move!” George stood up, his job completed.

The man reached quickly into his pocket and took out a dollar. He handed it to George who started to count out his change. But the man was afraid there wasn’t time to wait, and he turned and jumped aboard the moving train. George ran alongside with the man’s change, but before he could reach him the train picked up speed and pulled away.

George felt bad that he hadn’t been able to give the man his change.

Two years later, as George was walking along the street near Grand Central Station, he saw this man again. He was sure it must be him, because George rarely forgot a face. Approaching the man, George asked, “Sir, have you ever been here in New York City before?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“About two years ago.”

“Didn’t I shine your shoes on the platform here at Grand Central Station?”

“I don’t know. There was a boy who shined my shoes. It could have been you.”

“And did the train pull out before that boy could give you your change?” George asked.

“Yes, it did,” the man replied with a surprised look.

“Well, sir, I’m the boy, and I owe you seventy-five cents. Here is your money. I was afraid I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

Now, since this is a true story, perhaps you would like to know what became of George. The man whose shoes he had polished was so pleased to find such an honest boy that he asked George where he lived. He took the time to learn about George’s situation, how he lived alone with his mother and how they worked hard to make ends meet. The man helped them find a more comfortable place to live and gave them the money to pay the rent. He set up a fund to make sure George would be able to get a good education. All because of an act of honesty.

Of course, what happened to George doesn’t always happen just because we are honest. But even if no one notices, it still pays to be honest. And there are other ways of being honest besides in matters of money. You can be honest with your parents. You can be honest in school. You can be honest with your friends.

Be honest in everything, so that at last God may say to you, “I have been able to trust you in the little things of this life. Now I will make you ruler over great things.”

Storytime, Character-building Stories for Children, ©2008, 56, 57.

Story – The Widow’s Christmas

Mrs. Mulford was a woman who doted on ruins. Nothing in the present was as beautiful as she had enjoyed in the past; and it seemed utterly impossible for her to imagine that there was anything in the future that could compensate her for the trials she had endured.

In her girlhood, Mrs. Mulford had been surrounded with the luxuries of life; and after her marriage her surroundings were but a trifle less magnificent. In such an air of luxury and ease, her children, were being reared when suddenly a great change came.

Mr. Mulford was a rash speculator, and on that memorable “Black Friday,” the idol he had worshiped, the god of gold, proved itself to be nothing but clay, and was as dust in his hands. He could not rally from the shock; pride, ambition, courage, were all annihilated, and Mrs. Mulford, to whom beggary seemed worse than death, could only mingle her tears with his in speechless agony.

The next morning Mrs. Mulford was a widow, and her children fatherless. A trifle the creditors allowed her was all she had to depend upon, the money she had inherited from her father having been swept away by the financial tornado.

She had taken a little place in the country, and with Arthur’s help, and Bridget’s, had really succeeded in making things look quite cozy and attractive.

“Sure ma’am,” says Bridget, in her homely attempts to comfort her mistress, who dragged herself about, “if you’d only smile once in a while ye’d be surprised at the comfort ye’d get!”

“Ah Bridget,” Mrs. Mulford replies, with a long-drawn sigh, “my smiling days are over. I try to be patient, but I cannot be cheerful.”

“Ah, but it’s the cheerful patience that brings the sunshine; and ye really shouldn’t grieve the children so.”

“Do they mind it, Bridget?”

“Sure, an’ they do! Master Arthur, bless the boy! says it’s just like a tomb where ye are; and Miss Minnie and Miss Maud have their little hearts nearly torn out of them.”

But Mrs. Mulford could not be easily beguiled from her sorrow, especially as she was obliged to rely on her needle to eke out the limited allowance, and every stitch she took was but an additional reminder of the depth to which she was reduced.

She had managed to exist through the Thanksgiving season, and Bridget had done her best to make it an occasion worthy to be remembered, by the children at least; and if it hadn’t been for that kitchen queen, I don’t see how the house could have held together.

She had always some amusing story to tell the children, something to excite their wonder or admiration, and every few days would surprise them with some fresh molasses delights.

Minnie and Maud rather enjoyed their poverty, as it allowed them more freedom and exemption from little rules that society enjoined. It was such fun to roll in the snow, and draw each other on the sled, without any caution in regard to the ruffles and frills that used to be such a torment and restraint to them.

Christmas was drawing near, and its approach filled Mrs. Mulford with uncontrollable despondency. It had been a happy season in her young days. Now it was all so changed! Even a moderate expenditure was not to be thought of, when it was so difficult to procure even the necessities of life, and she really wished the day was over, for she dreaded its arrival.

In the kitchen, all was animation and excitement. Minnie and Maud were down in a corner very busy over some mystery, in which Bridget was as much interested as they were themselves. Arthur bustled about from one room to another, always the active, cheery, hopeful boy, who kept everybody informed of what was going on in the outside world, and he, too, evidently had some weighty secret pressing against the buttons of his jacket.

Christmas Eve came. Mrs. Mulford was in the midst of a troubled dream, when shouts of “Merry Christmas!” rang through the house and awakened her to the reality of the day she so long had dreaded.

The children’s cloth bags were fairly bulging with little treasures they had created with their own hands. “Come Mother,” said Arthur, “you first; Bridget can hardly wait.”

“Oh no,” said the mother. “Maud should have the first chance,” and the child eagerly availed herself of the privilege.

It was astonishing what an amount of goodies rolled out of that bag. There was a nice pair of warm gloves to use in drawing the sled, or making snowballs, a new doll, and a book full of pictures. Minnie’s bag was quite as bountifully stocked. Arthur had filled his own bag with all sorts of odds and ends to increase the excitement. Bridget unloaded her collection of treasures, pulling out a potato labeled, “The last of the Murphys! May they always be first in the field!”

When Mrs. Mulford was finally induced to examine the contents of her bag, the children gathered around anxiously watching the proceedings. There was a pair of nice brackets for hanging outside, which Arthur had cut out with a pen knife, and as she took up each article that had been wrought by loving little fingers, the worsted pulse-warmers, the pretty mats and tidies, she felt that it was indeed possible for love to build upon the old ruins a beautiful palace for the heart to dwell in.

“Forgive me my dear children,” she exclaimed, embracing them each in turn. “We will begin the world anew. I have been a weak woman.”

“It’s been a heavy cross ye had, but we’re all going to help carry it.”

“And Mother,” broke in Arthur, “I’ve gotten a job in a grocery store! It isn’t much, but I’ll learn the business, and then I can take care of you.”

What a Christmas breakfast they had! Bridget had made delicious waffles, and everything was super excellent, but it was the guest that sat at the board with them that made it a feast to be remembered. While they were at the table, there was a sudden, sharp knock at the door that startled all the inhabitants.

Arthur admitted the gentleman, so swathed in an immense scarf about the neck and chin as to leave one in doubt as to whether he was friend or foe.

“Well, well,” said the stranger, divesting himself of his wraps. “Where’s Carrie? Where’s Carrie Wharton, my niece? She was Carrie Wharton, married Ned Mulford, and a long tramp I’ve had to find her.” Saying which, he entered the room where Mrs. Mulford and her children were sitting.

“Carrie!” said the stranger in eager tones, advancing toward Mrs. Mulford, who having a bewildered moment, then a flash of recognition.

“Uncle Nathan!”

“Yes, dear child! Would I could have got to you sooner. I felt I was growing old and had a hankering after a home to die in, and always the face of my little niece, Carrie, seemed to give me the heartiest welcome. Why, I had hard work finding out anything about Ned Mulford, or Ned Mulford’s widow.”

“It’s because of our poverty,” sighed the widow.

“Money don’t make a home, I know that well enough, for I’ve seen it tried. It’s the way of the world. But no matter, we’ll begin anew. Arthur, what are your plans?”

“I was going into Mr. Chase’s grocery the first of January.”

“Do you want to?”

“No, sir,” replied Arthur, “but I’d like to help Mother.”

“You’ve done your duty. But my opinion is you’d rather go to college than into a grocery.”

“Oh sir!” hoping the flush on his face was not to be misunderstood.

“College it is, then. Carrie, you are to be my housekeeper; these are my little girls,” clasping the children in a hearty embrace.

The Christmas dinner was a marvel of cookery, and Uncle Nathan enlivened the meal with accounts of his adventures.

“And this was the Christmas I had dreaded,” said Mrs. Mulford, as she retired to her room. Her pride was truly humbled by this manifestation of God’s goodness, and long and earnestly she prayed that henceforth, whatever trials might come upon her, she might bear the burden with cheerful patience, trusting in God to lead her through the shadows into the sunshine of a more perfect day. And in years after, no memory was more precious to her than that of a Christmas morning when the children taught her a lesson of unselfishness and duty.

Sabbath Readings for the Home Circle, Vol. 1, ©1877, 358–372.

Story – Ever Faithful

Many years ago we were given a young cat named Davie. He was fluffy and light as a feather. Before he came to us, he had been an indoor/outdoor cat. I am sure he was a little disoriented with a new owner, who kept him inside; so he hid under our futon for a few weeks.

Little by little he would spend more time out from under the futon, becoming friendlier every day. And then I was gifted! He chose me as his human, and stuck to me like glue. Everywhere I was, there was Davie. He could be asleep on the couch next to me and if I moved, he woke up and followed me. Such devotion.

As the years went by, one day I noticed that he was sitting a lot and seemed to have trouble walking, dragging his back leg. Not deterred, he still followed me everywhere. We took him to the vet and were told that he had very high blood sugar. But after several visits, Davie was regulated on the right dose of insulin for his diabetes. It took about two months before his legs totally recovered.

Not long after this recovery, I noticed he was getting a cataract. After researching this, we finally realized we had to accept there was nothing we could do to remedy his situation. Davie seemed unfazed by his failing eyesight. Soon, however, a cataract began to cloud his other eye, but even with this very limited vision, he would follow me wherever I went.

With both eyes now clouded over for the most part, and the view of his world little more than shadows and faint light, it is very curious to us how he still walks around and continues to find his way up and down the basement steps, and that he knows where his water, food bowl, and cat box are—as if his sight was not affected at all.

Ever faithful, always by my side, no matter what his limitations appear to be, Davie is just a wonder of love, that’s all. I keep wondering how he can do this. I can only reason he knows my voice, he remembers the floor plan in our small house, and he depends now more on his hearing than his eyesight.

If Davie can do all these things with such serious limitations, how much closer—hour by hour and day by day—should we follow our Saviour regardless of our challenges in this corrupt world? We must always remember that Jesus will be by our side no matter what. He never fails us.

Through Davie’s unfailing devotion, he has taught me to be continually faithful to Jesus, to follow Him as He leads me. And in following Him, I am stepping away from the continual temptations and frightful evils so prevalent in this world, and moving ever closer to my heavenly home.

The words from this old hymn are brought to my mind, “And the things of earth will grow strangely dim (like Davie’s eyesight), in the light of His glory and grace.”

We can be assured that if we remain faithful, with our focus firmly fixed on Jesus, we will not fail.

“Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to present you faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy, to God our Saviour, who alone is wise, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever. Amen.” Jude 24, 25

Story – The New Backpack

“You are going to be walking a long way,” my mother had said. “I’d like my son to have a good backpack.”

It was going to be my first trip to Mexico to visit the Mixtec Indians. Many of them live in far-off villages scattered through the hills of Oaxaca, Mexico. My mother was right. Just to get to the village where the Bible conference was to be held, we would have to walk for many hours over the hills.

Mother kindly bought me the best backpack she could find. It was so light that you could lift it with one finger, and it had foam padding on the straps to keep the straps from cutting into my shoulders. When it was packed with extra clothes and a few other things that I might need, I tried the new backpack on. It felt light and comfortable. I could carry that load easily enough!

A few weeks later we arrived in Mexico at the point where we would begin the hike.

“Could I carry your pack for you?” asked one of the Christian Indians.

“No thanks, I’m fine,” I told him.

So we started off on the long walk. The backpack worked nicely, but the longer we walked the heavier it got. Surely those things I had packed weren’t so heavy when I had tried it on at home! On we walked with the hot sun beating on our heads, up one hill and down another. Everyone had loads to carry now, so there was no one to offer to help with my backpack.

I began to be afraid that I would never make it, but after two hours someone came to meet us over the hills with a horse. This time when they offered I gladly gave up the pack, and it was tied to the horse. I was so tired that it did not matter to me that the padded straps of my new backpack were not being used the way they were meant to be, but were dangling from the horse’s saddle.

Boys and girls, the load of sin is like the load in my backpack. The longer you carry it, the heavier it gets. This world tries to make sin look attractive, but it is still a heavy load. No matter how “light” your load of sin may feel when you are young, it will get heavier as you grow older. After a while the “foam padding” of pleasure no longer eases the weight of sins.

The Lord Jesus came into the world to free you from this load of sin. He Himself carried the load of sin when He was on the cross so that you might be free of your burden forever. “So Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many.” Hebrews 9:28

Oh, that you might today feel the weight of your sins and turn to Christ for salvation. “Come unto Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

My backpack was the best that money could buy, but it could not keep my load from being heavy when I carried it for a long time. May you accept Christ as your Saviour now while you are young, before the load of sin becomes too heavy for you to carry. “Sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.” James 1:15

“Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.” Ecclesiastes 12:1

Source: WholesomeWords.org from Messages of God’s Love published by Bible Truth Publishers.

Story – Life Friendship

Jesse Owens and Carl Ludwig LuzMany people feel that in this current atmosphere it is hard to make and maintain friendships. It seems that people are so busy, no one has any time for anyone else, even within Christian circles. Invitations to a home for a meal, visits to make new church members welcome, making friends for friendship’s sake, all seem to be things of the past. The modern attitude is: “I am so busy making money, taking care of family, household chores, and hobbies, what’s in it for me?”

Let me introduce you to a story about friendship that was born in the most inhospitable circumstance between two most unlikely people.

Jesse Owens, son of an Alabama sharecropper and grandson of slaves and Carl Ludwig “Luz” Long, an attorney in Leipzig, Germany, were both competing in the long jump preliminaries, hoping to qualify for the event in the afternoon of August 4, 1936, Olympic games in Berlin.

Jesse Owens won gold for the 100-meter dash. The following day he won gold again for long jump with a leap of 8.06 meter (26 ft. 5 in.), later crediting this achievement to the technical advice that he received from Luz Long, the German competitor whom he defeated. Jesse continued to win another gold medal with the 200-meter sprint and collected a fourth gold when the relay team won the 4 x 100-meter relay. He was competing in the most intimidating environment imaginable, where the racist ideology of the Nazi regime was building in intensity and where the instigator, Adolf Hitler, was a regular spectator in the stands of the Olympic stadium.

Luz was the German long jumper—tall, blue-eyed and blond—the personification of the Aryan ideal and Hitler’s opportunity to see the Nazi’s theory of racial superiority in action. Jesse had fouled in the qualifying round in the long jump and had one jump left, and sat dejected on the ground waiting for his final jump.

In view of the stadium of 100,000 capacity, Luz walked up to Jesse and introduced himself. Recognizing Jesse was having some trouble and should have been doing better, Luz advised Jesse to jump from a spot several inches behind the take-off board. Jesse took the leap and qualified. Hitler left the stadium.

When Jesse won the gold medal, Luz won the silver and was the first to congratulate his new friend. Jesse later recalled, “It took a lot of courage for him to befriend me in front of Hitler. … I would melt down all the medals and cups I have, and they wouldn’t be a plating on the twenty-four-karat friendship that I felt for Luz Long at that moment.”

Jesse and Luz corresponded after the 1936 Olympics. In his last letter, Luz asked Jesse to contact his son Kai and tell him about his father and “what times were like when we were not separated by war. I am saying, tell him how things can be between men on this earth.”

Luz served in the Wehrmacht during World War II. During the Allied invasion of Sicily, he was killed in action on July 14, 1943. After the war, Jesse revisited Germany to meet Kai Long and later was best man at Kai’s wedding.

Friends, would you have the courage, in the middle of the stadium for all to see, to reach out to the perceived enemy of the Aryan race? Think of it. This friendship was witnessed by 100,000 people!

I want this kind of courage. Let us reach out to people and make friends for Jesus.

Paul said, “Look not every man on his own thing, but every man also on the things of others.” Philippians 2:4, KJV

“Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, longsuffering; forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye. And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness.” Colossians 3:12–14, KJV

What a courageous friendship!