Children’s Story

Story – Honest George

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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

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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

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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

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“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

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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!

Story – Mary’s Two Bibles

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Mary was the daughter of a missionary couple in India. She was born in India and lived there until she was six years old. When it was time for her to start school, her parents sent her back to America to live with her grandmother. Mary’s grandmother was very kind to her and often told her Bible stories and did many things to make her happy.

As Mary learned to read and write, she would send letters back to her parents in India. They sent many letters to her, too, which she loved to receive. At first, her grandmother would have to read them to her. But it wasn’t long before she could read them herself.

One day when she was almost seven, she received a letter from her father. In it he included some money and a note which said, “You will soon be having your seventh birthday, Mary. I have enclosed some money for you to buy yourself a new Bible as your birthday present.”

“That’s just what I wanted!” exclaimed Mary happily.

A few days later, on her birthday, Mary and her grandmother went to a bookstore. They looked at all the different kinds of Bibles. There were big ones and little ones, some had gold edges on the pages, and some had leather covers which cost more. It was hard to make a decision. After looking at them for almost fifteen minutes, Mary told the saleslady how much money she had and asked if it would buy two Bibles.

“Yes, it could,” replied the saleslady, “but not the nice ones you’re looking at.”

Mary’s grandmother heard this and asked, “Mary, why do you want two Bibles?”

“Because I want one for myself and one to send to a girl in India who is my age, so that she may learn about Jesus, too,” answered Mary.

So Mary bought two Bibles. They didn’t have gold-edged pages or soft, leather covers. But the saleslady told Mary, “The inside is just the same!”

As soon as Mary got home, she printed her name in one of them. Her grandmother helped her carefully wrap the second Bible to be sent with a letter to her parents. She thanked them for her Bible and asked them to please give the second Bible to a seven-year-old girl in India.

Mary read her Bible every day and learned more and more of the love of Jesus. Her favorite verse was, “We love Him, because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:19. She read in a letter from her father that the second Bible had been given to a seven-year-old girl, just as Mary had asked. Each day Mary prayed for her unknown friend in India, that she also might learn to know all about the love of Jesus and how He had died on the cross for her, too.

Many years later, after Mary finished going to school, she went back to India to be with her father and mother and to help them in their missionary work. Not long after she arrived, she met a young Indian girl and learned that she was a happy Christian.

“How did you learn about the Lord Jesus?” Mary asked her one day.

“When I was seven years old, I was given this Bible,” answered the girl. “I read it and learned how Jesus loved me and died for me.”

Mary had found her unknown friend! This was the seven-year-old girl who had received Mary’s second Bible and for whom Mary had been praying all these years.

Do you have a Bible? If you will read it, you will learn about God’s love and how He sent His only Son, Jesus Christ, to die for your sins. If you already know Him as your Saviour, why not do what Mary did—pass on God’s word to others, so that they, too, can learn of God’s love.

“Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My words shall not pass away.” Matthew 24:35

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

Story – Missing Grandpa

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Rebecca loved her grandpa! How many of you have to travel quite a ways to see your grandma and grandpa? And some of you can only go to visit them for a vacation or for Christmas? Well, Rebecca was fortunate because her grandma and grandpa lived in the same town she did. In fact, the school bus dropped her off at their house after school every day to wait until her mom got off work and picked her up.

The best thing about Grandpa was he had time. Grandma was often busy preparing dinner, doing church work, or tidying up the house. But Grandpa would always put down whatever he was doing when she arrived, pour her a big glass of lemonade, and just look her in the eye and listen to whatever she had to tell him about her day. Then some days they worked on the big puzzle they were putting together, some days they washed the car, some days they went to the library and then curled up to read, some days they ran errands, whatever, Grandpa was always there.

One morning Mother told Rebecca that she would not be going to Grandpa and Grandma’s after school. Grandpa wasn’t feeling well, she said. He was going to see the doctor. Rebecca was sorry Grandpa was sick, but she wasn’t too concerned. She got sick sometimes, but with a day or two in bed or perhaps a quick trip to the doctor, she was all right. She never even thought about how she would feel if Grandpa didn’t get better. Well, Grandpa did get better, for a while, but soon there were many days when Rebecca couldn’t go to Grandma and Grandpa’s after school, because Grandpa just needed to rest.

One afternoon, just before school let out for the day, the teacher called Rebecca to the door of the classroom. Standing just outside, she saw her pastor waiting. The teacher said that Mother had called and told her that the pastor was going to pick Rebecca up after school and take her home. Rebecca thought this was strange, but since her mother had called the teacher, she thought everything was okay. Rebecca liked the pastor, and they talked all the way home. But when they arrived, Rebecca saw several cars parked in the driveway. There was Grandma’s car, and Aunt Suzie’s car, and Daddy’s car. What were all these people doing over in the middle of the afternoon, Rebecca wondered. When she went into the house, she met Mother in the hall. Her eyes were red like she had been crying. She put her arm around Rebecca and pulled her close. “You know that Grandpa has been very sick,” she said. “Well, today his heart just couldn’t pump any more blood so it stopped. Grandpa died this afternoon. He will sleep now until Jesus comes to wake him up. Then we will all go to heaven together.”

Then Rebecca began to cry, too. She knew Grandpa loved Jesus, and she knew that she loved Jesus, so she was sure they would be together in heaven. But she still felt sad about not having Grandpa with her right now. Who would have time for her every day after school? Mother said it was all right to cry. It was all right to miss Grandpa now. Someone in everybody’s family dies sooner or later, because death is a very sad part of living in a sinful world. But Rebecca was sure glad for Jesus.

Now she was beginning to understand more about why He came to die on the cross. The pastor said at Grandpa’s funeral that Jesus died so that everyone who dies but who loves Him will only sleep for a short time until Jesus wakes them up.

Some of you may know how Rebecca was feeling. Maybe someone close to you has died. Aren’t you glad for Jesus, too? Jesus is always with us when we feel sad. When we cry, the Bible says Jesus cries, too. That’s because He loves us so much. He came here to be with us because He wanted to share in our troubles. And now He is making preparation to come again so that everything that makes us sad will be wiped away, and everything will be made new. I’m looking forward to that day, aren’t you?

Adventist Family Ministries, By Karen Flowers.

Story – William Miller’s Dream

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I dreamed that God, by an unseen hand, sent me a curiously wrought casket about ten inches long by six inches square, made of ebony and pearls curiously inlaid. To the casket there was a key attached. I immediately took the key and opened the casket, when, to my wonder and surprise, I found it filled with all sorts and sizes of jewels, diamonds, precious stones, and gold and silver coins of every dimension and value, beautifully arranged in their several places in the casket; and thus arranged they reflected a light and glory equaled only by the sun.

I thought it was not my duty to enjoy this wonderful sight alone, although my heart was overjoyed at the brilliancy, beauty, and value of its contents. I therefore placed it on a center table in my room, and gave out word that all who had a desire might come and see the most glorious and brilliant sight ever seen by man in this life.

The people began to come in, at first few in number, but increasing to a crowd. When they first looked into the casket, they would wonder and shout for joy. But when the spectators increased, everyone would begin to trouble the jewels, taking them out of the casket and scattering them on the table.

I began to think that the owner would require the casket and the jewels again at my hand; and if I suffered them to be scattered, I could never place them in their places in the casket again as before; and felt I should never be able to meet the accountability, for it would be immense. I then began to plead with the people not to handle them, nor take them out of the casket; but the more I pleaded, the more they scattered.

I then saw that among the genuine jewels and coin they had scattered an innumerable quantity of spurious [fake] jewels and counterfeit coin. I was highly incensed at their base conduct and ingratitude, and reproved and reproached them for it; but the more I reproved, the more they scattered the spurious jewels and false coin among the genuine.

I then became vexed in my very soul, and began to use physical force to push them out of the room; but while I was pushing out one, three more would enter, and bring in dirt, and shavings, and sand, and all manner of rubbish, until they covered every one of the true jewels, diamonds, and coins, which were all excluded from sight. They also tore in pieces my casket, and scattered it among the rubbish. I became wholly discouraged and disheartened, and sat down and wept.

While I was thus weeping and mourning for my great loss and accountability, I remembered God and earnestly prayed that He would send me help. Immediately the door opened, and a man entered the room, when the people all left it; and he having a dirt-brush in his hand, opened the windows, and began to brush the dirt and rubbish from the room.

I cried to him to forbear, for there were some precious jewels scattered among the rubbish.

He told me to “fear not,” for he would “take care of them.” Then, while he brushed the dirt and rubbish, false jewels and counterfeit coin, all rose and went out of the window like a cloud, and the wind carried them away. In the bustle I closed my eyes for a moment; when I opened them, the rubbish was all gone. The precious jewels, the diamonds, the gold and silver coins, lay scattered in profusion all over the room.

He then placed on the table a casket, much larger and more beautiful than the former, and gathered up the jewels, the diamonds, the coins, by the handful, and cast them into the casket, till not one was left—although some of the diamonds were not larger than the point of a pin.

He then called upon me to “come and see.” I looked into the casket, but my eyes were dazzled with the sight. They shone with ten times their former glory. I thought they had been scoured in the sand by the feet of those wicked persons who had scattered and trod them in the dust. They were arranged in beautiful order in the casket, every one in its place, without any visible pains of the man who cast them in. I shouted with very joy, and that shout awoke me. Hurdles, True Education Series, ©1912, 13–15, taken from Early Writings, 81–84

“Not only the wise, the great, the beneficent, will gain a passport into the heavenly courts—not only the busy worker, full of zeal and restless activity. No; the pure in heart, in whose lips there is found no guile; the poor in spirit, who are actuated by the Spirit of an abiding Christ; the peacemaker, whose highest ambition is to do God’s will—these will gain an abundant entrance. They are God’s jewels… .” That I May Know Him, 123

“And they shall be Mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up My jewels; and I will spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him.” Malachi 3:17

Story – Telling Mother

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A cluster of young girls stood about the door of the schoolroom one afternoon, engaged in close conversation, when a little girl joined them, and asked what they were doing.

“I am telling the girls a secret, Kate, and we will let you know, if you will promise not to tell anyone as long as you live,” was the reply.

“I won’t tell anyone but my mother,” replied Kate. “I tell her everything, for she is my best friend.”

“No, not even your mother, no one in the world.”

“Well, then I can’t hear it; for what I can’t tell mother, is not fit for me to know.”

After speaking these words, Kate walked away slowly, and perhaps sadly, yet with a quiet conscience, while her companions went on with their secret conversation.

I am sure that if Kate continued to act on that principle, she became a virtuous, useful woman. No child of a pious mother will be likely to take a sinful course, if Kate’s reply is taken for a rule of conduct.

As soon as a boy listens to conversation at school, or on the playground, which he would fear or blush to repeat to his mother, he is in the way of temptation, and no one can tell where he will stop. Many a man dying in disgrace, in prison or on the scaffold, has looked back with bitter remorse to the time when first a sinful companion gained his ear, and came between him and a pious mother.

Boys and girls, if you would be honored and respected here in this life, and form characters for heaven, make Kate’s reply your rule: “What I cannot tell my mother, is not fit for me to know;” for no other person can have as great an interest in your welfare and prosperity as a true Christian mother.

Every child and youth should always remember that a pious mother is their best earthly friend, from whom no secret should be kept.

Sabbath Readings for the Home Circle, Vol. 1, ©1877, 220, 221

Story – Living in a Lighthouse

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How would you like to live in a lighthouse on a rocky island several miles out in the ocean? The island is so rocky, and the wind sweeps over it so fiercely, that not even a tree can find a place to grow. Wild storms dash the waves up on the rocks until they have worn great chasms in the cliffs.

No one lives on the island except the one family who keeps the lighthouse. You would have no children to play with except your own brothers and sisters. There is no schoolhouse, no store, no church—not another house but the one in which you live with your father and mother. Would it be a lonely place?

Yet, when Celia Thaxter was a little girl, she lived in just such a place as this. Her home was on one of the Isles of Shoals, a few miles off the coast of New Hampshire, one of the New England states. The lighthouse towered ninety feet above the waterline. Celia with her two younger brothers came to live here when she was five years old, and this was her home until she grew to womanhood.

But these children were not unhappy. To them the lighthouse seemed like some tall black-capped giant. They were filled with wonder when the lamps in the great tower were lighted and the red and gold lights swung round and round high up in the air.

Everything was strange and fascinating to the children. They liked to be lulled to sleep at night by the murmur of the great sea that encircled them. Sometimes for months, the waves dashed so furiously upon the rocks that no boat could land. So it was necessary to have enough food in the house to last the family until they could go to the stores on the mainland and buy more.

As there was no school on the island, Celia and her little brothers were taught by their father, who was a fine scholar. Often in the long winter evenings, he read to them from the best literature, and in this way Celia learned to love good poetry.

On warm spring days, the children played on the beach and gathered shells and wildflowers. Celia soon learned to know the name of every flower that bloomed on the island. They were her dearest friends. There was just one fern on the island, and this she tended with loving care.

Not many birds built their nests on the island, because there were no trees. But the little sandpipers built their nests on the ground. They were Celia’s playmates. They looked upon her as a friend. In one of her poems she tells about one of these birds that ran back and forth on the beach with her as she gathered driftwood for a fire (see on this page).

Celia spent many happy hours in watching the sailing vessels. The fascination of their wondrous grace and their mystery never lost its thrill for her. She seemed to absorb the beauty of her surroundings—the ever-changing colors of the sea; the soft skies overhead; the pools that were like bits of fallen rainbow; the wealth of the sea; filled with wonderful treasures—starfish, sea anemones, fairy shells, and all the interesting sea life.

Once after a storm the sun suddenly broke forth, and a rainbow seemed to stretch right out of heaven into the sea. Celia’s heart swelled almost to bursting with the glory of it, and she hid her face from the wonder. It was more than she could bear. She longed to speak the things which made life so sweet—to speak of the wind, the clouds, the birds’ flight, the sea’s murmur. The wish grew, and so it was that she became a poet, expressing all these things in word pictures so beautiful that they are like the work of an artist’s brush.

Celia married a man who was a missionary to the fishermen. Then, after a wonderful year of travel in Europe, she went to live on Appledore, another of the Shoal Islands. Here she had the most wonderful garden. Artists came to paint it, and she wrote a book about it called “My Island Garden.” Once, a great army of bugs and slugs descended upon her garden and began to eat it up. She wrote to some children who were her friends, to catch some toads for her. One day, a big box arrived, and when she opened it, there sat one toad in a box of dirt! She thought there must be a scarcity of toads on the mainland, or else it was a joke. But she carried the box out to her garden and put it down. In a few minutes little bright eyes began to poke up out of the dirt. There were ninety toads in the box! And they ate up all the bugs.

Celia Thaxter sleeps now on lonely Appledore, with the music of the waves always sounding over her grave. But the music of her poems about the sandpipers and the sea still lives to charm us with their beauty. As we read them, let us think of the little girl who lived in the lighthouse long ago.

Goals, True Education Series, Book 5, ©1933, 34–37

 

The Sandpiper

Across the lonely beach we flit,

One little sandpiper and I;

And fast I gather, bit by bit,

The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry.

The wild waves reach their hands for it;

The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,

And up and down the beach we flit—

One little sandpiper and I.

I watch him as he skims along

Uttering his sweet and mournful cry;

He starts not at my fitful song

Nor flash of fluttering drapery.

He has no thought of any wrong;

He scans me with a fearless eye;

Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong.

The little sandpiper and I.

 

Comrade, where wilt thou be tonight

When the loosed storm breaks furiously?

My driftwood fire will burn so bright!

To what warm shelter canst thou fly?

I do not fear for thee, though wroth

The tempest rushes through the sky;

For are we not God’s children both,

Thou, little sandpiper, and I.

Celia Thaxter