Dear Sheperdess: The story is told of a pioneer who was trekking westward, when all sorts of troubles assailed him. One day his prairie schooner broke down. As he pondered the broken wagon, however, he whistled a happy tune. Noticing this, a stranger re marked that he was strangely happy for one in so much trouble. The whistler replied, "I'm in a fix, sure enough, but I'm needing happiness about now. My wife is sick, the wagon is broke down, it's raining and getting dark and rather lonesome 'round here. It ain't a real good time for me to be down in the mouth. You see, we haven't any broken bones, and there ain't been an earthquake, an' we ain't been scalped. So I figger there's lots o' room for happiness. It's like grease on wagon wheels—things go better when you use it."
Pastor and Mrs. L. E. Tucker sang Ellen White's words from volume 9, page 189, at the Nebraska camp meeting last summer. The words and music are so appealing. Wayne Hooper (who, by the way, is Mrs. Tucker's brother) gave permission for us to print the song to which he wrote the music. "Remember what Christ taught and let his words enrich your lives and make you wise; teach them to each other and sing them out in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing to the Lord with thankful hearts" (Col. 3:16, T.L.B.).*
This is input for a rejoicing heart.
I would like to mention a set of cassettes prepared by Mrs. C. M. Bee (Aunt Honey Bee), Route I, Box 182, White Plains, Maryland 20695, for children. She has captured nostalgic stories from her childhood and has recorded them in a delightful storytelling way. These are available at the Potomac Adventist Book Center and also from Mrs. Bee. These are good for Sabbath listening, as well as any time a story is needed. Mrs. Bee has been a teacher and elementary school supervisor, a minister's wife, and mother. I have found even grand mothers enjoy these stories. Just a suggestion as to how to keep little ones entertained with something other than the TV. With love, Kay.
MY MINISTER husband and I once served in a southern community where flesh meat forms a part of the daily diet. Often I felt it necessary to bring new converts home with me to help them "bridge the gap" between coffee, cokes, fatback, ham, and bacon, and our Adventist way of eating. I held little one- two-student cooking classes preceding invited-to dinners. "Why, you'd never believe it could be that good with out ham (or side meat)" they'd often exclaim, tasting my bread dressing or pecan roast or cashew casserole. "How do you do it?"
One day a woman called to ask if I could do something to help her sick husband, and I asked her to let me come to her house and make dinner that night. This I did, with special attention to the invalid's needs, with a little quiet counsel on the side. I was careful to take Counsels on Diet and Foods, and marked those quotations I felt would be most helpful. As a result of several nourishing meals without anything dead or harmful as an ingredient, and being friendly and helpful without being "preachy," the invalid was soon out of bed and gaining weight, much to his doctor's amazement. Soon we had gained a whole family who believed in health reform.
We made suggestions such as "Why don't you try a walk in the fresh air, then a hot foot bath instead of aspirin?" "Greens are always better if seasoned with just a little oil and not overcooked." "Why don't you try brown bread? It is so much more nourishing than soda biscuits."
These and occasionally a fat, fragrant loaf of my homemade bread gave us an entrance to many a home.
"Wakes" are still held in many Southern towns. People's sympathy often takes the form of providing refreshments for those "sittin' up" with the deceased. I always made my honey gingerbread, made with applesauce and nuts. People would call asking me if I was going to "send that good cake" of mine.
Then came a terrible ice storm. The electric power was off for a week in our part of the country. Fortunately we had an oil burner, and cooked with propane. But the farm next to our parsonage home was a famous "all-electric" house. The mother of the owner used to be a Seventh-day Adventist, but the fearful toils of the snuff-dipping habit dragged her out.
"Now is our chance," I told my husband. For a week we took the noonday meal to this family. It was hard for people in such a lovely home to be in such straits.
The news of our taking care of this one family went all over the county. The people we were helping marveled at our meatless entrees and asked for directions as to "how to make such good things when we get electricity again."
We found that little acts of kindness and love with no mention of "strings attached" can do more to do away with prejudice than any number of sermons.
