There are many interesting incidents that I would like to share with you. But, let me, this week preceding Palm Sunday, tell you first of Jean and the Palm Sunday program a year ago. Jean was a member of my Sunday school class last year. The smallest of the class, she was also the most dilatory. She would forget her quarterly, fail to do her written work, and, some days, fail to appear at all. A distant relative (who made it clear that she was very distant) said that Jean's mother was a poor manager, and that the family life was rather helter-skelter. Our class had been asked to take charge of the worship program one Sunday of that month. We chose Palm Sunday. I decided to write a simple little play, involving the little children in the streets of Jerusalem on that day of Jesus' triumphal entry. After two days of research in Biblical history I was satisfied that the people who honored Jesus on that day - just five days before His crucifixion - were the weary, footsore pilgrims who had followed Him all the way from Galilee, and wrote accordingly. The girls came, with unfeigned eagerness to that first meeting when the play should be "cast" and the rest of the program planned. All were there, except Jean, who for some reason could not come. We had to leave her out, except for the closing song, "The Palms." I tried to ward off any pouting by telling them that we were doing this to glorify Jesus, and not ourselves. The ones in the play were to wear costumes - simple gowns of cheese-cloth, dyed in pastel shades, which the church had in its "wardrobe" rooms. At our second and final rehearsal, Jean, who knew she could nave no part in play or pronouncements, came with four lovely palm branches, brought from Florida by a friend. The other little girls, not in the play, expressed a desire to have costumes, too. Realizing how much it meant to them, and how much nicer it would look, I agreed to make and dye those costumes that night. There was one gown in stock that no one liked - just a sickly green. But little Jean came to me after the final meeting was over, and said, "I'll wear the green one. You have so much to do." I went home loaded with yards of uncut cheese-cloth, but wonderfully strengthened by the spirit of one little girl, who was ready to surrender all to the glory of Jesus. On that Palm Sunday morning two of my "star" pupils quarreled over who should carry the biggest palm. The rest were just human and sweet. They did a grand job, and, I hope, left a lesson in other Junior hearts. But from little Jean I learned of whom Jesus must have had especially in mind when He said, "... of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." ***
May I crowd in some items of possible interest by brief notes, separated by dots? Did you ladies know that the "vitaminists" are working on a vitamin that will prevent the hair from turning gray? So now, along with your shampoos, oil treatments, massages, tint rinses, wave sets, croquinole curls, machineless wave, sheen spray, etc., you may soon add a little capsule (taken internally) that will somehow find its way to the roots of your hair, and make it ageless... The Sportsmen's Show - all of the outdoors brought into our Public Auditorium, where, two weeks hence, the Metropolitan Opera will give forth its glorious music and pageantry. An Eskimo family, in native setting - igloo, bear skin tent, parkas, kayak - two little children - the mother is almost beautiful - a dreamy, sad look in her dark eyes. Springer and cocker spaniels in a wonderful demonstration of obedience, retrieving a pigeon, pheasant, rabbit, utterly unharmed. A swift and clever duck almost eluded four dogs, swimming in determined pursuit. A fifth dog, who did hate to get his feet wet, finally plunged in at the psychological moment, and stole the show. Two girls are earning their way through college by giving exhibitions of log-rolling - nimble beyond belief - canoe-tipping contest - Chief Evergreen Tree, a master at imitating birds and wild animals. A dozen interruptions necessitate the early closing of this article. More next week.
Florence B. Taylor
Next -4/10/41 - "Father, Forgive Them..."