ALFRED was in deep thought, “Truly,” he was saying to himself, “no one realizes all that I do for mother! I carry all the wood; I go to the grocery, to the bakery. She just says, ‘Thank you,’ as if it were natural that I should work like this. Now, if I should send a bill to her, she would then know what a good boy I am.”
So Alfred sat down, and wrote the following,
MY BILL TO MOTHER.
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For carrying two baskets of wood.
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$0.10
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For going to the grocery
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$0.05
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For going to the bakery
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$0.05
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Total
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$0.20
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At noon all took their places at the table. Mother found her “bill” under her napkin. She took it, read it, and said nothing. Alfred was somewhat ill at ease.
At supper time, it was his turn to find a piece of paper folded under his plate. He opened it, and read,
MOTHER’S BILL TO ALFRED.
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For care given Alfred while he had measles
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Nothing
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Clothing and shoes for ten years
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Nothing
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Food for ten years
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Nothing
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Alfred understood; he felt ashamed of his ungratefulness. With tear-filled eyes, he went to his mother, threw his arms around her neck, whispering,
“Mother, forgive me.”
How much do you do for the Lord—for the Saviour who died for you, young believers? Do you confess His name before your schoolmates? Do you seek to be kind and gentle to others, for His sake? or have you forgotten all that He has done for you—the love, the suffering. the shame He has endured for you?
ML 04/23/1922