Y ou d o n ’ t k n o w m e , but I know you. Very well. Oh, if you stopped to think about it, you’d know I must exist somewhere, but I’m very sure that you’ve never seen me. I’m your missionary’s Prayer Letter List. Quite a number of years ago I started out as a list of family and friends. Then we started on our deputa tion traveling, and I grew and g-r-e-w and GREW. In every church we stopped there were a few names added fill the pastor, those in charge of the meetings, people who asked to be added, and also people we liked just, because we liked them. There were scores of meet ings — and hundreds and hundreds of names. I got fatter and fatter and happier and happier because I was sure that all these people would win spiritual battles by pray ing for my friends, The Missionaries, and that they would write them letters telling what was happening in the churches at home, and send them Christmas cards, and some would send boxes of food and clothing and mon ey for Bibles and tracts. I was so HAPPY! We were terribly busy in those days. I was typed and re-typed. I was divided up according to states, and then I was alphabetized. Sometimes, between typings, I dreamed of the day when we would go around to all those churches again so The Missionaries could greet you and tell you what your love and prayers meant to us all. Finally the day came when I was packed in a suitcase for the long ocean voyage. I didn’t get packed in a drum with the stuffy old sermons and flannelgraph materials. Oh, no! I had to be handier than that because as soon as we reached The Country, I was pulled out again. The Friends at home had to know right away! There were prayers that needed praying! We’ve been here several years now, and though we love The People more, we don’t love you one bit less. But missioinary life is pretty hard on The Prayer Letter List. It’s sad but true: I’m getting thinner and thinner all the time. Sometimes I cry and want to give up alto gether. I’m so SKINNY! Here’s what happened: We hadn’t been out here very long at all —- just about three months — when two of The Prayer Letters came back here. One was marked “ Gone” and the other was marked “Unclaimed.” Then The Missionaries got a letter saying that a Dear Old Saint had gone to be with the Lord. She couldn’t help it, I’m sure, and she’s happier with Him, I know — but I’ve never been quite the same since; there was that first no tation: “ Deceased.” Finally I came to realize that every time A Prayer Letter was sent out, a month or so later two or three or four of them came back; The reasons were different but the results were the same — red slashes across my face. After we’d been here for two years there came the cruelest blow of all. It’s called “The Pruning.” After all, The Prayer Letter is an expensive item — both in time and money. There’s the cost of paper, envelopes, print ing and stamps. And there’s the time it takes to address hundreds of envelopes, fold and insert hundreds of let ters, paste on hundreds of stamps. It takes hours and h-o-u-r-s and HOURS! The Missionaries talked about it for a long time first. They didn’t want to “ Prune” anyone who was really interested and praying. But on the other hand, if a friend doesn’t write — not even a Christmas note once a year — how can you KNOW he’s praying? I’m thinner, but maybe I’m still pretty healthy, after all. ‘Cause the ones that are left are Pure Gold. Goodbye for now, Friend. Write soon. Your fellow-servant, P. L. List
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letter mailing in her ^ ;;ij Mrs. Phil Allen (Jean Cerling ’49) working on a prayer home on Shikoku Island, in Japan. WÌÈ.
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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