The Shepherdess-to-Be

In this number we begin an eight-chapter story of a young minister's wife. The author, Dorothy L. Aitken, wife of a missionary and administrator in South America, and formerly of Europe, writes with the sparkle of youth and the wisdom of the experi­enced. The problems in the continuing story are real in Adventism's ministerial work. Neither does the author lack wit and humor to hold the interest. Our shepherdesses will enjoy its unique home setting and will enter into the joys and problems facing the young ministerial couple. This is a shepherdess's contribution to her sisterhood, so let us enjoy it to the full. And incidentally, let us share it with the head of the ministerial home.—Editors.

THE autumn sun was just beginning to slip behind the campus trees, now nearly bereft of leaves. Students hurried from building to building, their arms laden with books, or lin­gered on the walks to enjoy the last warmth of the sun. In the little white house down the street Aunt Anne knelt beside the fireplace, fanning into life the tiny flame that would soon be making a cheery crackling sound as it warmed the chilly living room.

The doorbell's noisy ringing made her rise hastily, brush her apron and straighten her hair, but before she could reach the front door a young girl, cheeks rosy from the frosty air, and hair flying, burst into the house. "Oh, Aunt Anne, I've the best news! Guess what. No, don't. You never could. Here, I'll hang up my coat and tell you all about it."

"Why, Merrilee, you really look excited. I can hardly wait to hear. Come, we'll sit by the fire— at least I hope it's going. Uncle Lan will not be home for a while yet, but I like to have it cozy so he can really relax when he gets home."

"Oh, Aunt Anne!" Merrilee threw herself on the sofa and kicked off her shoes. "May I just curl up. Aunt Anne? I just must tell you about it. No, I won't. You've got to guess. But this may help." Merrilee pushed up the right sweater sleeve and proudly displayed a sparkling new gold watch.

"Looks like one of those right-hand models to me," smiled Aunt Anne. "You mean it's official?"

"It certainly is," laughed the girl; "as of four o'clock this afternoon. Isn't it gorgeous? And Aunt Anne, he was so original! None of this moonlight-and-roses stuff. But I must start at the beginning.

"After lunch today Marc asked me if I would care to walk down to the river with him, so I ran to the room with my books and put on my coat, and we strolled down to the little bridge at the bottom of the ravine. You know where that is."

Aunt Anne nodded, and Merrilee tucked her feet beneath her skirt and looked dreamily into the fire.

"We stood on the bridge and looked down into the water. I was warm 'cause there jvas only one tree that had any leaves on it—three. I counted them. Marc didn't seem a bit embar­rassed. He just began talking about how long we'd known each other and how we both came from about the same circumstances. He talked about how we both had had to work our own way and said he guessed since he was going into the ministry he'd never have much money, but that maybe since we, neither one, were spoiled that way we might be able to make a go of it.

"He said he'd been thinking about it a long time and had talked it over with his folks and they were agreed, too, but he just hadn't gotten around to asking me till last night. He was milking a cow down at the farm, and decided today was the day. Imagine, Aunt Anne! Isn't he funny? He said he wasn't much at making sentimental speeches but that he hoped I knew that I was the only one for him. Then he justasked if I thought I could be happy with him. It was as simple as that.

"He pulled a package wrapped in white tis­sue out of his pocket. He got a mischievous twinkle in his eye when he handed it to me. The watch was beautiful, and I told him so. Then he said all that mattered was that I liked it."

Merrilee paused and ran her finger around the shiny edge of the watch. "We'll get married as soon as school is out. But, oh, Aunt Anne, I've so much to learn till then! I do so want to be a good minister's wife. You and Uncle Lan have always been so happy, and Uncle Lan is so well thought of and has such a responsible position in our work that I thought maybe you could help me between now and next spring so I at least won't be too dumb."

Aunt Anne roused herself and put another log on the fire, stirring up the embers vigorously as though to stir up the golden memories hidden beneath her silvering hair.

"Well, Merrilee," began Aunt Anne, glancing at the mantel clock, "being a good minister's wife is the most important profession a girl can choose. As the years go by you will understand more and more why. A minister who has a good conscientious wife, one who works at her job as hard as she did at the one she had before mar­riage, will always be a success, for the minister's prestige and influence probably depend more upon his wife's abilities and attitude than upon anything else. Show me a minister who is success­ful and who has the love and confidence of his parishioners and the community, and I will draw aside the curtain and show you the faith­ful wife standing silently in the shadows, en­couraging, comforting, quietly doing her share to make his home a heaven and his family his greatest joy. But we can't go into that now. Uncle Lan should be here soon."

"Oh my, it is suppertime. I must get to the dining room or I will miss out." Merrilee slipped into her shoes and ran to get her coat. "You know, Aunt Anne, with my parents so far away, it surely is nice to have you nearby. I really need some advice."

"Come whenever you have time. I'll love rem­iniscing with you." Aunt Anne closed the door and watched the figure flying across the campus toward the dining room. "Bless her heart, she'll be a wonderful minister's wife! With all her talents and all Marc's abilities and ambitions, they should be real workers. I hope I can help her."

A few days later the kitchen door of the little white house down the street flew open, letting in a blast of icy air. "Here I am, Aunt Anne." Merrilee removed her rubbers and rubbed her hands together. "I just got out of chemistry class, so I'm a bit late, but I hope you'll still have time to show me how to make your good applesauce cake that Marc likes so well."

"I've been waiting for you, Merrilee. Every­thing is ready, and I thought maybe while we mix and stir we might talk a bit about a recipe for a happy home."

"Oh, let's do, Aunt Anne. Really I do want ours to be a happy home. So many young cou­ples I know quarrel all the time."

"That's because they haven't found the right recipe," smiled Aunt Anne. "Take for instance this recipe. You have to have just the right amounts of everything, or the cake will not be good. Should you put in a cup of cinnamon and a teaspoon of flour 'twould be a sad, bitter cake! Yet that's what too many people do with their marriages. Here, Merrilee, you do the measuring. Just as it says now, and I'll com­ment as we go along."

Recipe for a Happy Home

Merrilee tied an apron snugly around her waist and took up the measuring cup.

"It says one-half cup soft butter creamed with one cup sugar."

"Good. Measure accurately. The butter we will call gentleness and the sugar love. Mix them well together, for in your home love and kindness must play the biggest role. What's next?"

"It says add two well-beaten eggs."

"Shall we call the eggs understanding? It takes plenty of that too."

"Then it says sift together two cups flour, one-half teaspoon cinnamon, two teaspoons baking powder."

"We'll call the flour hard work, the cinna­mon jealousy, and the baking powder disap­pointments."

Merrilee nearly dropped the measuring cup. "No, no, Aunt Anne," she cried, "there'll be no jealousy in our home, and I don't want any disappointments."

"Of course, you don't, dear." Aunt Anne had to smile at the girl's vigorous protest. "But they will come. Cinnamon eaten alone would be bit­ter, wouldn't it? You wouldn't take great doses of it, would you? But it makes the cake tasty and spicy—-gives it flavor."

"But I thought jealousy was one of the great­est causes of divorce?" Merrilee asked rather than stated.

"To be sure, my dear, it is. A jealous wife is perhaps the worst liability a minister can have.

Especially is this true in view of the fact that he will have to counsel with and pray for women all through his professional life. You cannot af­ford to be always suspicious. But there may be times, in spite of all you can do, when you will be a bit jealous. When this happens remember to keep close to your husband's loving heart. Say no word to let him think you are jealous. Remember, too, he cannot help it if a few silly women make eyes at him. A sincere God-fearing minister will know how to make them keep their distance and will not be patting them on the back and having private conferences behind closed doors without asking you to share those confidences."

Merrilee went on sifting the flour, and Aunt Anne looked out over the snow-covered hills. "When we were first married we had a very odd experience. There was an old bachelor in our district who lived with his sister, and he became very ill. We had been to visit him a number of times and felt sure it wouldn't be long before we would be called upon to bury him.

"One day, a very busy day, I remember, a let­ter came from the sister. In it she poured out her heart to 'my dear, dear Pastor,' and asked if he wouldn't please come at once. Of course, we thought the brother was dying; so, leaving everything, we drove fifty miles to visit them. When we drove into the yard of the big farm­house the sister ran out to the car, looking very embarrassed when she saw that I was along. Uncle Lan asked very seriously if the brother was still alive. 'Oh, yes, he's much better today,' she said. We went in to visit him and found him sitting up.

"After a few minutes the sister said she had to speak to my husband alone. So they withdrew to the front porch. There she told my husband how much she loved him, and how she counted the days till she could see him again.

" 'And that is why you wrote me that urgent letter?' my husband asked. She nodded.

" 'My dear sister,' Uncle Lan answered, 'do you realize what you have done? You gave me to understand that your brother was dying, and that I should come at once. I have spent a whole afternoon of precious time I should be using in saving lost souls. I have spent several dollars for traveling expense just to come out here to hear you say such foolish things. I keep no secrets from my wife, and talking to me privately will not mean she doesn't know. Now don't waste any more of my time like this.'

" 'But you will come when my brother dies?' she asked almost pitifully.

" 'Yes, I will come for the funeral, but don't call me until it is necessary.' "Of course, I had some fun teasing Uncle Lan about her, but the experience let me un­derstand I could depend on my husband not to keep any secrets from me.

"Here and there a little flame of jealousy will spark up, but you will always mix it well, and when it is stirred into the sweet mixture it will give your marriage flavor. The same is true of disappointments. They'll come whether you want them to or not, but they will always make your marriage richer if you keep the quantities right."

"Now where were we?" asked Merrilee look­ing at the recipe. "Oh, yes. It says, 'Add nuts and raisins to flour, then add flour mixture to sugar and butter mixture.'

"Why do we put the nuts and raisins with the flour?" Merrilee wanted to know.

"That's so the nuts and raisins won't stick to­gether or go to the bottom. They'll each one be individually floured and will be all through the cake."

"And what are the nuts and raisins in our happy home? Please don't tell me they are quar­rels and misunderstandings or something like that."

"No, I think we'll call them dependability and practicability. The nuts and raisins are what make the cake chewy. They give it body. So to have something really substantial, we'll say the nuts are dependability and the raisins practicability. You have to be able to depend on each other. If your marriage is going to be something ethereal and theoretical, and you do-not find practical ways to get along with each other's different personalities, it would be like eating angel food cake all the time—no real food value—nothing to sink your teeth into. Know what I mean?"

"I think so. And now the vanilla. What's that?"

"That is courtesy. Each of you must treat the other as courteously as you would a guest. You wouldn't think of saying 'Shut up' to a guest or 'You're crazy' to a stranger. The little courtesies extended so graciously to outsiders will help to sweeten your own home."

"Then it says here, 'Last of all add plenty of applesauce.' What is applesauce, Aunt Anne?"

"Just that. Applesauce! Tell your husband he's handsome. Tell him he's clever. Tell him he's the most wonderful man in the world. It may not be all exactly true to anyone else, but for you it is true. Dear me, when Uncle Lan tells me I'm the most beautiful thing he ever set eyes on, that I could be a beauty queen and all that, I know it's not true, but it sounds wonderful. And Marc will like it. He won't believe it, but he'll like it. It tells him that you really do love him."

"I'd better get this in the oven or it won't get done before I have to go to class. Let's see. 'Bake in slow oven one hour.' "

"Yes, Merrilee, your marriage will go through the fire of testing and trial before life is over. But when you have passed your test, it will be as beautiful as we hope that cake will be—pro­vided my oven is working right. Next you'll turn it out on the crystal platter (that's the family altar) and garnish with the Rose of Sharon. And like this cake, the older it gets, the mellower and more precious your marriage will be."

(To be continued)