19
January, 1946
ING' S BUS I NES S
I O R
Every day Momol had a good time feeding his chickens. They were to be his gift for the Lord's service.
Momol’s GIFT for God By “Aunt” Stella M. Rudy S ketches by G ladys B owm an , B iola ’47
M OTHER,” c r i e d Momol, an African boy, “did any hen lay an egg today?” “Yes,” answered Momol’s mother, “a hen certainly laid an egg today. There are now four in the basket on the wall.” “O, Mother,” begged Momol, “will you please give me those four eggs?” “You want me to give you those four eggs when there is a little chicken in every, egg! What strange thing do you want now that you should beg for my four e g g s and four little chickens?” “It is for a gift for God,” cried Momol. "We are to bring a gift for God on the day that is Sunday.” "But I, too, want a gift for God on the day that is Sunday,” answered his mother. “My reading-equals [the boys in his class] and I,” explained Momol, “have tied [pledged] ourselves to do some thing for God. I want to raise chickens and sell the eggs. Then I shall have always a gift for God on the day that is Sunday.” “And so you beg my eggs and my four little chickens!” exclaimed his mother. “Well, I suppose I’ll let you have them. Boys nowadays certainly have soft bodies! They do not work hard in the fields, but expect their
distant village where the Gospel had not. been preached. Momol had no way of earning money, but he did think he could raise chickens and sell them and the eggs to help toward the fund. He made a little garden near, his mother’s and planted corn and peanuts. Several months passed by, and one day the school boys were to bring their gifts for God. It was on Tuesday. “The day that is two days after Sun day,” said Momol. The day dawned bright and clear and the boys came flocking into school with their offerings, their gifts for God. Momol could scarcely wait for the sound of the call drum which summoned the boys to school. But at last he heard the welcome “Boom, Boom! Boom, Boom, Boom!” He dashed out of the hut and ran off to the river for his morning swim on his way to school. As he ran in the sunlight, his body looked like brown satin. Momol ran along the road with his head high in the air. How proud and happy he was. How rich he felt! A gift for God—the fruit of his labor! “If only father would worship the true God!” he sighed. That was the only thing that marred his happiness.
mothers to give them their gifts for God!” She turned over the big leaves that covered their vegetable stew, and poured some into their bowls for sup per. Momol ate greedily, for he was hungry. After supper Momol took the four eggs and put them under his pet hen that had begun to sit. Each day he cared tenderly for the hen and brought her food. When the brood of little chicks appeared, he worked hard to fatten them with white ants. Momol was a Christian lad. He at tended the Mission School in the village and was one of the first to give up the Mohammedan religion to worship Jesus. His mother followed soon after, but his father was still a Mohammedan and kept all the Mo hammedan feast and fast days. When he was at home he attended the village mosque. But since he was not at home much of the time, Momol could go to the Mission School un hindered. The reason that Momol was so eager to have a gift for God was be cause the school had decided to give a certain sum of money for a little mud brick chapel to be built in a
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