The T rue Christmas S to ry o f a Sanitarium Patient.
By Ruth Hahn Peters
and call out cheerily, “Good night, Mamma! Pleasant dreams!” One morning, after the rainy season, when the purple of the lupines had faded from the hillside, I heard the nurses downstairs singing, “Happy Birthday to You.” Immediately I in quired whose birthday it was. “Jack ie’s,” they answered. It set me to won dering whether this sweet invalid girl had ever had a spiritual birthday, whether she had been born again. Lying in bed month after month, there is very little one can do for the Lord. But I tried to think of some way in which I could help Jackie. Hast ily I wrote her a note on the prettiest card I could find in my box. Then I took the waxy, pink water lily floating about in the round glass bowl, which my thoughtful husband had brought, and sent it with the note, praying that God would use them. No word came from Jackie; but nurses reported that she was enjoying the water lily; they said she even kept it long after its petals were closed. So I sent other lilies from time to time. Then one day there came a note, accom panied by a set of pamphlets full of good cheer and sermonettes, well-worn and marked. “Take care of them,” wrote Jackie, “Let me have them back when you are through with them; Mother used to collect them for me.” * * * * Another Christmas was approaching and we were planning our little sani tarium celebrations. Again my hus band brought poinsettias and got out the candles and manger set. But this year we knew that Jackie would not be among our visitors. She was not on the porch any more and her son looked very sad as he walked away after his visits. Some weeks before Christmas as I was having my devotional hour, the Lord had put it into my heart to write a note to Jackie. Fortunately, I had received some gifts I could give away. Among them was a luminous cross on which were printed the words, “JESUS NEVER FAILS.” I wrote Jackie I wanted her to know that Jesus .loved us and had given Himself for us, and that He cared when the long nights were dreary. I told her that she need not reply; I had heard her coughing in the night and I knew she had not the strength. To my surprise within a few days the nurse brought me an answer writ ten in Jackie’s trembling hand. “You do not know how much I have appreci ated your lovely notes, the lilies, and the cross. Just when I needed it most came this last comforting message, and
the cross, the cross! There I have laid my burden down, and I know now that Jesus never fails. It was so simple and short and more than a sermon to me. God has given me thirty-one years, eleven of them with my boy, and now at last I come to thank Him. He has been so good. These last three nights when I turned off the light, the cross was shining at my bedside; and God shines in my heart today. I had been worrying about my son, wondering what would become of him. I have just had word that he can go to a church school. God has heard my prayers. I cannot write all I want to say because my hands are so shaky. It took me three and one-half hours to write this. Thanks again and God bless you. Love, Jackie.” That night I heard her moaning and knew she was worse. I prayed that God would keep and comfort her. It was Sunday evening again and all was quiet in Room« 2. I looked out of my window and saw a dark figure rush out of her door and disappear across the lawn. As darkness settled, over the radio came the words, “Lead, Kindly Light.” And although it was dark be low, I knew that beside a fallen temple a cross was shining. Jackie rested peacefully that night because she was in the presence of the Lord Himself. And on her cabinet still glowed the words: “JESUS NEVER FAILS.” If Jesus had not died and risen for her, and for you and me as well, the dark night could never have been broken, but “Now is Christ risen from the dead and become the firstfruits of them that slept.” Thank God for Christ mas, but praise Him forever for Easter, too! + + + I know not how that Bethlehem's Babe Could in the Godhead be; I only know the Manger Child Has brought God's life to met I know not how that Calvary's cross, A world from sin could free; I only know its matchless love Has brought God's love to me. I know not how that Joseph's tomb, Could solve death's mystery; I only know a living Christ, Our immortality! — H. W. Farrington " N O M O R E S O R R O W ” “He Will Not Forget Me/ “Where the Tears Never Flow/* “There's One Who Knows,’* “I'm Lonely Without You, Dear God” and 192 new, lifting melodies in 2 books. Special $1.00. REV. FRED M. WAEHLTE, MULINO, OREGON. Page Thirteen
I WANT to see the girls in Room 15,” Jackie told the kind nurse, so, sitting with her feet tucked under a blanket, she rode into our room on her cart. I had heard of this pretty, cheerful, red-haired girl on the third floor, but this Christmas Day was the first time I had met her in person. As the nurse introduced us, Jackie greeted_ me with a warm smile that lighted up’ her eyes, in spite of the deep shadow of weari ness upon her face. She admired our little Christmas tree with its twinkling lights and shin ing balls, but the poinsettias which my thoughtful husband had brought from home really took her eye. Among them I had intertwined a set of seven electric candles which resembled miniature palms, in the shadows of which I had placed little plaster figures of the shepherds, the wise men, the sheep, the camels, and Mary and Joseph look ing wonderingly down upon the tiny Babe in the manger straw. There was a wistful note in Jackie’s soft voice: “Isn’t that lovely? That is what Christ mas should mean.” And it was timé to wheel her back into her own room. Later on Jackie was moved to Room 2, almost directly below mine, and I saw her more often for the nurses sometimes pushed her bed out onto the porch. Often too I saw a chubby, fair haired boy of about eleven coming to visit her, usually accompanied by a plump Pomeranian called “Cecie.” The two would sit outside of the screen door for an hour every week. At nearly every visit the boy would sing to Jackie in an unusually pleasant voice for a youngster. Then, as the sun went down behind the western hill and the gaunt eucalyptus trees grew dark against the glowing sky, he would throw kisses D E C E M B E R , 1 9 4 8
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