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T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
November, 1934
r \ | Twenty Years of PAIN ...and THANKFULNESS yTy/l/ZA'iS C t + t , V ¿5- B y O ne W ho H as L earned S ongs in the N ight
with jewels which “ cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the precious onyx, or the sapphire.” And what friends He has given me! Are there more loyal friends than those who stand by the sick through the years? My family and friends have prayed for me, encouraged me, quietly sacrificed for me, washed my dishes, rubbed my aching head, offered me everything from new books to their very lifeblood for blood transfu sions. I should like to speak o f a very devoted and tender husband, but that is a matter too personal. T he G ifts of L aughter and V ision I know that laughter is not listed as one o f the gifts o f the Spirit, but I do thank God for it. He has un doubtedly given it to man, and, personally, I fail to see how* an invalid could bear life without it, or how our families could endure us unless we had some sense o f humor. How many tense situations can be relieved by a laugh! I have thanked God many times for a love o f beauty. How He must love beauty, since He took pains to make so much o f i t ! I often think how much pleasure He must derive from all that He has created. Surely He wants us to appreciate it, not to go about with blind eyes, oblivious to so lovely a gift. I am reminded o f the verse in Kings, “ And the Lord opened the eyes o f the young man; and he saw.” There is so much that we could see in the physical as well as in the spiritual world if we would let God touch our eyes. Perhaps He has given to sick people, as a com pensation, a freshness o f impression, a heightened appre ciation o f the things which are commonly taken for granted because we are accustomed to them— the mar velous tracery on the wings o f a butterfly, the intricacy o f a spider’s web, a child’s laughter, the morning star alone in the sky. I shall never forget one evening years ago. I had been in bed most o f the time for five years, and that par ticular summer, I had not been out at all. My eyes as well as my soul needed far horizons'to keep from growing nearsighted. So that evening I managed to get to the hammock on the front porch. The stars - were bright
[Believing that the accompanying anonymous message will have added value for our readers if they know some thing about the deep waters through which the Lord has been leading the writer, we are taking, the liberty o f sharing a part o f a personal letter which was not intended for publication .— E ditor .] “ I was quite overwhelmed [the writer states] by your suggestion that I write something for your Thanksgiving number. The happy tears came into my eyes at the thought that if I could write something worth printing, perhaps, after all, these years that seemed so barren may bear a little fruit for my Lord. The main thing, o f course, that my illness has brought me is a knowledge o f God. “ You see, I broke down very early in young woman hood and have had twenty years o f illness, the first seven in bed most o f the time; then up off and ■on, one sick spell after another— seven operations besides fifteen minor ‘carvings.’ Almost every disease has had a try at me. For the last six years, I have been quite on the shelf again, able to attend church only once during that time. “ You would have laughed had you been here yester day. I have a violent cold, and I also have some trouble with my spine, so that every time I sneezed, it felt as though some one were breaking my back. Here I was, sneezing and moaning my way through an article on the joys o f being sick ! But oh, I have so many more things to be thankful for than I could list in my little article! I can’t tell you what sheer joy it gives me to feel that God will still let me live and serve Him.” A t this Thanksgiving season, I am looking back over YX tw en ty years o f illness and thanking God for them. Does that sound strange ? Ah, but they have brought me gifts, those weary years. I do not enjoy sickness nor suffering, nor the nervous energy' and exhaustion that are harder to bear than physical pain. And an invalid must bury so many ■dear dreams, which have death struggles, and refuse to die decently and quietly. But God has a way o f taking away our toys, and after we have cried for a while like disappointed children, He fills our hands
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