A LESSON IN TRUST
BY MARY J. MACCOLL
It was a genuine
November day, chill, dreary, dismal, and my mood was in unison with the
weather.
I had started
out with a heavy heart, in “bitterness of spirit,” feeling that the light and
beauty had faded out of my life, even as it had from the darkened sky above,
and the mud-stained shriveled leaves beneath my feet. My mission was a sad one
also, I was on my way to read to, and pray with, a poor man why lay at the
gates of death, and to comfort and assist, as far as I could, his devoted and
sorrowing wife.
I felt utterly
unable to speak words of cheer to any one, and would have retracted my steps,
had no a sense of duty forced me to keep my promise to visit this worthy couple
whenever an opportunity occurred.
I thought, also,
that the sight of poverty and suffering meekly borne, would help me to endure
more patiently my own griefs.
While walking
slowly along I pondered over the question, so often asked by sorely tired
hearts, “Why does the Good Physician give me so many bitter draughts to drink,
while others taste only the wine and honey of life?”
How watchful the
archenemy is, ever on the lookout for a vulnerable place in the Christian’s
armor! He thrust in his spear at that instant in the shape of a doubt. “It may because
our Father in Heaven has so many children to care for, that at times He must
forget or overlook.”
Thus I answered
my heart, and felt a deeper sense of desolation than before. Just at that
moment I noticed a host of sparrows on the bath near me busily pecking at
something. They flew away at my approach, and settled in a tree close by. I
found that by some accident, a quantity of meal had been spilled on the
pavement, so that a feast was provided for the hungry little birds. As clearly
as if the “still, small voice” had whispered them in my ear, came these words: “Are
not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten
before God? Fear not, therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.”
The lesson I
needed had been given. I went on my way with renewed faith and hope, and found
that my poor friends had been remembered also. Mr. M… was much better, and a
benevolent lady, once of God’s “ministering spirits,” whom I had interested in
their behalf, had just sent them a large basket of groceries; besides some wine
and delicacies for the invalid.
I told them of
my want of trust, and how it had been rebuked, and we thanked the Good Teacher
together with grateful hearts.
On my way home
everything appeared changed. In the brightening sky the promise seemed written,
“At eventide there shall be light.” I thought the leaves of crimson, brown and
amber, more beautiful than when in summer’s livery. Their fragrance was
delightful, and recalled the words of a noted author who said that some hearts
were like certain plants which required to be bruised before they could give
forth their sweetness. I remembered also that exquisite idea of Jean Paul
Reicher, “Has it never occurred to us when surrounded by sorrows, that they may
be sent to us only for instruction, as we darken the cages of birds when we
wish to teach them to sing.”
I have never
forgotten that lesson. It has helped and cheered me innumerable times, and I
tell it, dear reader, hoping that it may comfort you when dark days come-as
they do to all. My afflictions at that time, and ever since have proved to be
indeed “blessings in disguise,” and I have at least learned to “walk by faith.”
