p. 14 | The Children Away at School by WORTHIE HARRIS HOLDEN

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 7, 1915

The Children Away at School

By WORTHIE HARRIS HOLDEN

WORTHIE HARRIS HOLDEN

It is mail time in one of our academies. The girls are coming by twos and threes to the preceptress’s room, some laughing and chatting, some more sober and serious. Jane seems to be more happy with her one letter than Frances with three. But why does Ruth come so hesitatingly, and turn away with tears in her eyes? Slip your arm in hers, and go with her to her room. She will gradually tell you the whole story.

Day after day she has gone for some message from home. Days have lengthened into weeks, until one, two, three have passed. Yes, she knows they love her. Mother is ripping up her old dresses, trying to make new ones out of them, so they can save enough to keep Ruth in school till she obtains a suitable preparation for her life’s work. But there is not any news to tell from that quiet, secluded home, just the ordinary routine; so the mother punctuates her thoughts of the absent one with her stitches, and seldom puts them down on paper.

Your John is at college. He has earned his scholarship, is “making his way” through school. Father, you are justly proud of him. You think of him as you turn the furrows, or go about the chores all alone. And at the morning and evening hour of sacrifice, you pray for him,—pray that he may have good success, that he may grow in grace, that he may be kept in the hour of temptation. O, tell him so! You picture him preparing for the work that you yourself always longed to do. Tell him so! Write him the details of the farm life. It will make home nearer and dearer.

Open the secret heart-chamber door once in a while, and let the children know they are still cradled in your affections just as truly as when they were babes, and were cradled in your arms. We live in a time when, physically and morally, man has become weakened through the sins and errors of the centuries; when the youth are sorely tempted and tried, and need as never before the companionship of those who have battled and won.

Let us be comrades of our children from babyhood to full manhood and womanhood, so they will know they have our sympathy, and will naturally turn to us for counsel when perplexed. Let us take time to be all we may to them and for them. Such companionship brings an abundant reward here; and by and by, when we reach the homeland, the parents’ crown of rejoicing will be to say, “Behold I and the children which God hath given me.”

Portland, Oregon.