WHAT mother and father of a family do not know something about lost tempers, bitter words, and regrets for the happenings of some days?
I think it is safe to say that in the heart of all parents there is at some time or other a longing to live without those squabbles, to have love and peace reigning in the home. Is such a thing possible? some harassed mother asks, and how? asks the dejected-looking father, as, full of remorse, they think over the happenings of a strenuous, tiresome day.
Let me tell you how this change can be worked in your home, as it was in the home I am going to tell you about.
Mrs.― was just an ordinary working man’s wife, with all the troubles and trials of anyone in her position. A day in her home was something like this. Alarm wakens her at six a.m.; she has her husband to get to work at seven; her oldest boy, who is at the trying age of seventeen, to get off to catch the 8.2 train to be at work by nine a.m., and three children to get to school, with baby to bathe and feed by ten a.m.
Usually, after dressing herself and kindling the kitchen fire, she calls father, who gruffly answers, “Aye, ahm comin’.” She starts to cook and set breakfast, which is no easy job when you live in a “but and ben,” and have to tiptoe about so as not to wake baby. “Father, your breakfast is ready,” is the next call. “Aye, ah hear ye.” “Come on then, it’s holf past six.” “Ahm comin’, ahm comini.” “Well, come, an’ don’t lee yoursel’ tae the last gasp, an’ blame me if yer late.” “A’ve never been late yet an’ if ahm late this mornin’ it’s your taut, ye should ‘aye shouted me afore this.” “Oh, aye, I’d blame me, if ah wis you,” is her taunting answer.
Finally he gets up, dresses, sits down to breakfast, during which time Mrs.― hushes baby, who has been awakened, to sleep again. Then follows a heated argument over whose is the fault that the breakfast is “stane cald.” He gets breaast finished and rushes out answering all the while his wife’s remarks that when she is “daed an’ awa’ “he’ll appreciate her a “bit mair.”
Between sighs of self-pity, and mutterings about her hard lot, she goes to the room and calls Cameron, who is as hard to get up as his father was. He gets up at 7.35 after being called four times; he grumbles and complains at the kind of home he has to live in and what food he has to eat, all the while he gobbles his breakfast; his mother threatening and scolding as fast as she can. At last he, too, is off, racing like a harrier.
Betty, John and Margaret are next to get up, and after washing and dressing, to be examined, when Margaret’s ears are boxed and she is sent to wash the “tide mark” off her neck. Her cries wake baby, and that aggravates mother to give her another slap or two. Then John, who is a gentle child, asks mother if this is how you spell a certain word; he is roughly pushed aside and told to “get oot o’ ma sicht”; he lifts his little satchel and goes off, without even finishing his breakfast. Betty and Margaret finish theirs, put on their coats and tammies and are off calling, “Ta, ta, mammy.” In answer, all they get is, “Rin on or yell be late for the schule.”
Mother bathes and feeds baby, and hustles through the morning’s work, all the while seeing nothing but more work and more worry. Twelve o’clock arrives and she bustles about setting the dinner for the children coming from school. In they rush, each anxious to tell of his or her experience in the forenoon’s work, but mother is too busy to even trouble to listen, until she hears them squabbling and arguing over some childish grievance; roughly she tells them to be quiet and hurry up. Mrs. —gets them “out of her road” once again.
The afternoon is crammed full of duties, and before she knows where she is, it is tea-time. Dinner has to be served to father and Cameron, tea to the others. After tea, father settles down with his paper, while mother, amidst all the yells and shouts of the youngsters, clears up and prepares all four young ones for bed. At last she has a moment to reflect on all the happenings of the day; she feels uncomfortable inside, but thinks, “Well, it wasn’t my fault, I’m sure.” Father’s thoughts are much the same.
It was after such a day that Mrs.― heard news which set her thinking. The wee boy who lived in the next close had died very suddenly. Mrs.― could not rid herself of the thought, “What if it had been my John? “As she thought over how cross she had been with him her heart ached, and she wished she could be different; but how was it to be done? All at once, back to her memory came a text she’d heard, “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me, for My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.” She rose, and after some hunting around found a Bible. She read the eleventh chapter of Matthew; she decided she’d let Christ have her and her burdens, and she would have His yoke. Her heart was changed. Light and gladness had come in.
Six years have passed since that day, and though all of the family do not take that same way, she has had the joy of seeing her husband and son do so, because they saw the change in her life. There are still many duties and worries in a day, but half an hour’s earlier rising, spent talking to her Lord, gives her strength for the day, and no longer is there self-pity and harsh words; she can count her blessings.
Father, mother, do you long for such a change in your life? That same Voice still says, “Come.”
The Message of Victory.