Willard was about seven years old. He had light hair and blue eyes, and he loved his father and mother very dearly. But Willard was often forgetful; so forgetful that he did the very thing his mother had bidden him not do, and then would say, “O, I quite forgot!” Do you know anyone like Willard in this respect?
There was one thing Willard’s mother had often told him he must not do: “Never play with fire, my boy,” she said, “never even touch a match; many a child has been burned to death by meddling with matches.”
Willard listened to what his mother said, but a match was a great temptation to him if it ever came in his way, for he did so enjoy seeing a piece of wood take fire and blaze up.
One day, when Willard was on a visit, he saw his grandfather take a match from the matchbox. The match did not take fire when he struck it, so he dropped it and tried another. All the while Willard sat watching him, and when he left the room he picked up the forgotten match and tried to strike it. To his great surprise the match did take fire; the little boy was frightened, he threw it as far as he could into the stove and walked away.
By-and-bye Willard began to think of what his mother had said, and the more he thought of his disobedience the more troubled he was. At last bedtime came, and he was still very unhappy, so unhappy that he could not help telling his nurse, Maggie, all about it.
“What shall I do, Maggie?” he said.
“You had better go down at once and tell your mother,” said the nurse; “the longer you leave it, the harder it will be to tell the truth. I would not wait till morning if I were you.”
Now Willard had thought that he would tell his mother the next morning when he was alone with her, and would ask her to forgive him; but he made up his mind to go downstairs at once. His mother was in the dining-room with his father when Willard softly opened the door, saying, “Mamma, may I speak to you?”
“Yes, dear,” said his mother. “What is it?”
Then Willard told his mother he wanted to speak to her quite alone; and when she came to him in the hall, he put his arms round her neck and told her the whole story about the match, and confessed that he had been so naughty as to disobey her.
What do you think his mother said?
“I am sorry my little boy has disobeyed me, but I am very glad he has confessed and told me all the truth.” Then, as she gave him a good-night kiss, she whispered, “I forgive you, Willard, and I don’t believe you will ever touch a match again.”
So the little fellow went to bed happy, because he knew he was forgiven.
What made him ready to go to his mother with the tale of his fault? He knew she loved him so well, that she could forgive him at once if he confessed his disobedience.
Willard did not ask to be forgiven, he confessed his disobedience, and his mother forgave him.
Let the child of God who has sinned, simply come to his Father, without fear, though sorrowful to have grieved Him who has so loved him, and he will find the truth of these words: communion will be restored, and he will be again happy with God.
ML 03/22/1931