At last came the man who had the first right and title to the bedspread and its manifold comforts—the son of the good woman who made and sent the spread to us. Is it not striking that he should come to rest under that spread? Yet such is the fact. How wonderful are God’s ways!
The newcomer was lying unconscious for a whole week. After that, he was observed examining the spread very earnestly and kissed it repeatedly. The nurse thought he must have found a verse which proved a comfort to him. She went nearer the bed to see the spot he kissed. There was no text there; she saw only a piece of goods with a red flower on dark ground. His eye rested still on that spot, and finally big tears began to chase each other down his sunken cheeks. He is delirious, the nurse thought. But no, he was fully conscious. Upon being questioned why he wept, he said:
“Oh, this piece of goods reminded me of my good mother. She wore such a dress when I secretly ran away years ago. Oh, my dear mother!” and again the tears were seen coursing down the pale face of the young soldier.
“Do you know where this bedspread came from?” he finally asked.
“Some good woman sent it to us for the sick,” was the reply.
“What is the woman’s name?”
“That we don’t know; but we kept a little slip of paper that was pinned to the spread, no doubt, written by the woman. Shall I get it?”
“If you please.”
When I returned to the ward, he reached his hand out eagerly for the paper, his lips pale, his hand trembling, but as he looked at the handwriting he said: “It is from my mother!” The next moment he covered his face with both his hands and sobbed aloud. I left him alone.
The next day I found him quite calm. I was desirous to know if he had not only noticed that piece of goods, but if he had observed the Scripture texts. But ere r could say a word, he pointed with his finger to one, and whispered: “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and no more worthy to be called thy son.” Luke 15:2121And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. (Luke 15:21).
“I am no more worthy,” he repeated in such a sad tone, that it cut to my very soul.
I drew his attention to the text just below that one and read aloud: “And he arose and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.”
When I looked up, his eyes were full of tears and his lips trembled.
A few days later, having gained some in body, he showed me the same text I read to him and said: “But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion . . . .”
The happy expression in his face made me ask involuntarily:
“Are you sure that you too are dear to the Father?”
“I am sure; I know now that He has forgiven me for s Jesus sake, and this makes me very happy?”
“Shall I write your mother that her son which was dead is alive again, and that the lost is found?”
“If it is not asking too much of you.” “Not at all, on the contrary, it gives me great joy.”
I sat down to tell his mother in what a wonderful way God had answered her prayers.
What joy this letter must have given to the mother’s heart, and what thanksgiving and praise there went up to the God of all grace, who had again given above all asking and thinking!
But what about the bedspread? If it was of great value before, it is to me, to us, of a thousand-fold more value since then.
ML 12/30/1906