Dear Shepherdess: My husband was assigned to two convocations in our Hawaiian Mission in September. I was overjoyed at the opportunity to accompany him.
We were met in Honolulu by two of the mission officers and garlanded with beautiful plumerialeis—just the beginning of the kind hospitality and love shown us during our stay in this tropical paradise. We flew on to the island of Molokai, where we were met by Pastor John Kendall, who also presented us with leis.
I had to blink my eyes to realize we were still in the United States as we roamed around our hotel. It could have been Tahiti or Fiji. The foliage and tropical atmosphere entranced us. The ocean lapped the shore a few feet from the tikilighted A-frame cottage where we were housed.
The members of the church on Molokai were hosts to the mission officers and their fellow church members from Lanai, the pineapple island. Some of these dear Christians had never been off Lanai be fore, so it was a treat for them, as well as a privilege for us to meet them. We were honored again with orchids and leis, along with the mission officers and especially Pastor and Mrs. Shigenobu Arakaki, the newly-elected president of the mission. Indeed, each person visiting from Lanai received a welcome of flowers.
Bountiful meals were served by Kathy Kendall and her helpers from the lania (veranda) of the two-room church and school building. We were overwhelmed by the many kindnesses shown. The church resounded with good preaching, music, and praise. Across the way stood a tall grove of coconut palm trees, and beyond that the vast ocean. As if in benediction, the Lord unrolled a magnificently gorgeous sunset across the sky.
Michael Nuluai presented a concert of hymns, and a well-beloved "Auntie Hole" (Holly) played her ukelele and sang words that I wish to share with you.
"I'm only human and I'm just a woman;
Help me believe in what I could be and all that I am.
Show me the stairway I have to climb.
Lord, for my sake, teach me to take one day at a time."
As I read Beverly Owen's article in the "Caromate Newsletter" I felt we could all benefit from taking "one day at a time. "
The remainder of our trip through the islands was equally as rewarding as our days on Molokai. Being members of the family of God is a true blessing. With love, Kay.
I must have given notice to the world to take arms the moment I threaded the needle. Surely someone had given the order, "Do anything you have to, but keep her from sewing!"
It was a hectic day. There was so much to be done, and I had a hopeless feeling that never would there be enough hours in this busy day to accomplish my tasks. I had discovered in a few short years of being a minister's wife that it could be a full-time job, and since I had given birth to my second child just a few months previously I sometimes felt that I was working both the day and night shifts!
But I decided I was going to take some time this particular day to indulge one of my favorite pastimes—sewing. I had neglected my sewing for too long! I pulled out my portable machine and proceeded to arrange things on the dining room table. Since having the baby, I had found it increasingly difficult to set aside even a small portion of each day to devote to an activity I enjoyed. "But today is going to be different," I told myself. "Today I'm going to do it." That's what I thought! From the beginning things went drastically wrong.
First, 3-year-old Derek bounded through the front door playfully swinging a dead mouse by the tail! With shrieks and yells I convinced him that the garbage can was the best home for his new-found friend. As he turned to leave he asked with a furrowed brow, "Mommy, do you like mices?"
"No!" I emphatically replied.
"I do," was the quick reply. "Jesus does too, right?"
I was relieved when he didn't wait for my reply but made his exit. To my dis may, however, he left a trail of muddy footprints on the dining room rug marking his route.
About this time the whimpering of my new baby poured from her upstairs bed room. Nap time was over—another interruption. After quieting the baby with a quick feeding, I was ready to begin again! "My tape measure—where is my tape measure?" I muttered to myself while emptying the contents of my sewing basket. The mystery was solved when Derek swung open the front door trailing my bright-yellow tape measure behind him from his coat pocket.
"My tape measure!" I exclaimed with surprise. "What are you doing with it?"
"It's my road," he replied, astonished that I didn't know.
Well, now that I had my supplies together I could begin. I propped the baby up on the table beside me in her infant seat and began to sew. Things were progressing. I had accomplished two seams without an interruption. Derek was gal loping happily throughout the house using the top of the machine case as a horse, and the baby was—Oh, no! The baby was eating my pattern! I quickly retrieved it, but not before a good portion had been transformed into bite-sized pieces.
My first reaction was to cry from utter exasperation. But I was soon able to control myself by putting into effect some of the positive principles I had been studying in my personal devotions. "Thank the Lord for everything" (see 1 Thess. 5:18) had always sounded to me like an empty, overrated cliche aimed at cheering up a despondent friend, but it was beginning to mean more as I truly tried to live a positive Christian life.
Gradually the frustrating situation took on a different look. I could thank the Lord for the hectic events of that day. As surely as if I had snapped photographs with my camera, I now had some beautiful pictures developed in my mind. I'll never be able to use a tape measure again without thinking of it as a portable road! And years from now as I clean out a closet and come across a yellow, tattered pattern that looks as if a mouse has made a meal of it, I'll smile and envision my 5-month-old propped up on the table, looking at me with large hazel eyes as she sampled the special taste of a McCalls pattern!
The next time I'm tempted to let the events of a particularly trying day get the best of me, I'm going to try to remember to take some pictures without a camera and enjoy the benefits of living a positive Christian life.
Prayers from the Parsonage
by Cherry B. Habenicht
Father, I dread entering this dingy nursing home, but when our group sang here, I promised Hazel I'd come again. When we visited then, Hazel griped the whole time. Some people say she's cantankerous and advise me to ignore her complaints. I don't know her well enough to judge. Should my attitude be brisk and cheerful or sympathetic and conciliatory?
She says the aides are mean, handling her roughly and neglecting her requests. To me the middle-aged workers seem listless and bored, but not unkind. She claims she doesn't belong here with "these crazy old people." Perhaps she's right. Hazel isn't tied in her wheelchair like the withered woman down the hall. Nor does she mumble to herself like her roommate.
Days drag for these patients in their sterile environment, but Hazel tells me the nights are worse. "I can't sleep," she cries. "That old lady groans, the other rings her bell at all hours, and people are screaming in other rooms." Dear God, it seems a mockery for me to visit at all. How can I really know what it's like to be old and sick and alone? Is it possible for me to encourage Hazel, or will my presence taunt her with memories of the days when she was young, independent, and energetic?
Thinking about old age scares me. Will my parents one day be as helpless as these residents? If I cannot care for them, will circumstances force Dad or Mother to finish life in a stark room? Might lone day stare with bleary eyes as I shuffle along behind a walker?
What shall I say? Asking Hazel about her family will make her remember that no one has come for weeks. If I tell her about church programs, she'll realize they no longer involve her. To talk about the weather seems inappropriate, for Hazel never gets outdoors. Your Word describes the honor and dignity that should accompany aging rare qualities in the routines here. "I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread" (Ps. 37:25).
I'll read that to Hazel! If she won't accept it, I'll remind her that one day "there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain" (Rev. 21:4). Please use me to brighten Hazel's day as I witness of Your tender concern for the elderly.
