Of what shall we write on this special day of the week? Suppose we write of three experiences, each taking place on the Sabbath Day. Or can a chance encounter be called an experience? If it stirs and inspires you, yes. I was on my way home from a special session at the church, and had just missed the village bus, which runs every half-hour. One hates to squander a half hour, waiting on a corner. But there, a few steps away, window-gazing with her two little girls, was a familiar figure. Yes, it was Anne, whose husband picked up and left her two years ago, announcing that he was in love with another woman. Their baby girl was less than a year old then. This couple had belonged to our big Sunday school class, of a hundred married couples. The word got around by the grapevine method. When our beloved teacher, who looks after all his sick or suffering members, like a good shepherd, announced one Sunday morning that Anne was at her mother's - ill - and needed our interest and help, we knew that she must be sick at heart. It was one of those sins of omission on my part - that just as surely warp the soul as the other kind - that I never went to see her. Just think what a body blow her husband's desertion must have been! We wondered what she ever saw in him to begin with; he is such a boor. But here she was, a sweet, domestic, motherly soul, left alone with those little children, having to revamp her life. Our teacher persuaded her to stay with our class the rest of that year, just as widows and widowers do. But she dropped out at the end of the year, saying that the association only emphasized her status. For those of us who didn't know her intimately she dropped right out of our lives. But here she was again! Or could it be Anne? This radiant woman, who had gone through a sort of earthly transfiguration. She greeted me cordially, as of old, and told of how everything had worked out so beautifully for her and the children. She got her old office job back again, after twelve years' absence. She found the "perfect" woman to take care of the children (and, incidentally, the home). Her children are her priceless treasures. I said to her, "Surely you have a very special philosophy that has helped you to triumph over tribulation." She replied, "There is a certain verse in the Bible - in the Psalms - that has helped me more than anything else, "The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me." (Found in Psalms 138:8). She has believed that with her whole heart and her faith has made her altogether lovely. ***
Last Saturday a week ago a very happy young couple came to town, bringing their baby girl, whom we had never seen. So, on Sunday afternoon we went to the home where they were visiting, learned all about the other four children, who had stayed behind for the first time - with a very capable grandmother. We all take our hats off to that fine young couple, who got off to a bad start eleven years ago, and have gone through The Depression, and have come up smiling. Eleven years ago the young wife's mother visited in Cleveland. She was crushed and heartbroken. Her Winnie - her only girl - "had" to get married. She was hardly more than a child - sixteen - and the young couple had come to her parents, confessing, and asking their consent to get married. To this proud and truly good Englishwoman it was an unforgivable sin. She felt like disowning her child. I had known Winnie from a little child. I assured her mother that Winnie was not a "bad" girl; she loved this one boy - and him only; and he loved her; surely the Heavenly Father would understand. Winnie wrote me not long after that, "I have sinned; but I will atone." She surely has - completely. She stands today as a shining example of motherhood; her husband has been out of work at times - but she always managed - kept on smiling. Those children are going to make fine citizens. And now this couple - still young - have just bought their own home - a simple home, within their means, but a grand place for the children. You know, from their happy faces, that God is well-pleased with them.
The time draws near when this letter must be in the mail-box. I must leave the story of the dedication of the Christ window in our church until another time. But as I gazed at that beautiful new window today, I breathed a prayer of thanks - that we live in a land where we dare build such a work of art, without fear of its being shattered by a bomb.
With best wishes to you all,
Sincerely,
Florence B. Taylor