p. 6 | Which Will You Choose? by MRS. I. H. EVANS

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jul 7, 1910

Which Will You Choose?

By MRS. I. H. EVANS

MRS. I. H. EVANS

Consider, my sister, your privilege of choice. You may be poor, weighted down with a load of every-day burdens that seems too heavy to bear, and that is too heavy to bear in your own strength; but you may choose to lay your burden on Him who is ever ready to bear our griefs and carry our sorrows, and, so choosing, you may walk with him light-hearted and at peace.

When the days seem long, when “the road winds up-hill all the way,” and when the peace and rest of Home seem very far away, you may choose, if you will, to enjoy the companionship of him who is the Joy of that Home. In the dark places he will be your light; in the heat and toil of the day he will be to you as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.

You may carry in your heart a living sorrow; you may be grieved by neglect or ingratitude, by absence or death; but whatever your condition, your own heart’s joy and the happiness of others are to a great extent in your own keeping: they are yours to choose.

You may choose your position in your own home—that of arbitrary dictator, a ruler whose word must be feared and unquestioningly obeyed; or that of counselor and friend and guide, comforter in all sorrows, sharer of all joys, the safe keeper of all confidences,—a position, indeed, of the highest trust. And you may make of that home what you choose,—a refuge, a comfort, a delight, to your loved ones; or—a “place to get away from.”

To a large extent you may choose for your children the best things of life,—a knowledge of the Bible, and a faith and trust in its teachings; familiarity with good books; gentleness of manner and of thought; freedom from criticism and gossip, which is as a deadly blight on so many young lives. If you can not always choose their associates or their friends, you can at least help to choose their ideals; and presently the companions who do not measure up to those ideals will fall away. You can help them to look for the best motives, to take always the kindly view, to put self out of sight.

You may choose happiness for your children; and what sweeter, saner, more desirable gift could any mother bestow? A happy childhood is never a spoiled childhood—whether from overindulgence or from lack of the sweet indulgences the wise mother will know how to dispense and how to withhold. It does not mean idleness, freedom from all responsibility, the gratification of every whim, no matter at what sacrifice to others; it does not mean permission to go and come as the will dictates, money to gratify every desire, or even unlimited educational opportunities. None of these things, which at the first glance seem to be life’s “best” things to the child, make or give happiness. As the children grow up, and go out from the shelter and love of home, they will remember longest the attitude and character of the mother in that home. If she has had “a heart at leisure from itself, to soothe and sympathize,” if she has chosen for herself the ways of pleasantness and peace, and has walked therein, unhurried, unruffled, serene, and sympathetic; if she has been swift to do the kindly act, slow to speak the critical, bitter word,—if the mother in the home has been such as this, she will have left for her children a treasure of memories that will ever be to them a blessing and an influence for happiness.

And not only are you choosing, in these swiftly passing days, what shall be the memories of your children; but you are choosing for yourself the memories that shall last as long as you live. All too soon the home will be quiet and empty, and you will live over again and again in memory the scenes and words of to-day—of every day. Which would you choose for yourself—in the days to come? Would you choose the memory of a child’s grieved face? its look of pain, brought there by stinging rebuke or unjust accusation, hardening under your words to rebellion—anger answering your anger, frowns your frowns, saucy words your scolding and fretting? or would you choose the memory of quiet hours, when correction is sweetened by kindness, and what you really desire for your child—the careless habit overcome, the quick temper brought under control, the perfection of the Christian graces in the life—is brought one step nearer?

Which would you rather remember,—a day of embroidery or sewing on extra lace that your darling might be prettily dressed? or a few hours in the woods and fields, teaching her the first lessons of flowers and birds, and of Him who made both her and them? Shall she learn first the lesson of the lilies? or shall her awakening baby thoughts be for the daintiness she sees reflected from the mirror?

Would you rather remember, in those days, that always and forever your floors were clean, and your books and chairs in order and beautifully unmarred, while your boys and girls found their pleasures on the street or in other homes? Or would you choose a memory of the happy, vivid faces of your children, always brighter for your smile, enjoying the innocent pleasures of youth under your guarding watch-care?

O mothers! it is yours to choose—first the better part, that can not be taken from you by men and will not be taken from you by Heaven; and after that, and having its roots in it, the peace and joy and comfort of those whom you love better than life.

As in the home, so in the church. You may, to a large extent, choose your attitude and place in that company which is but a larger household. You may open your heart to other mothers’ children; and one of the hardest things, apparently, for many mothers to learn, even those who are wisest and most tender with their own flock, is the lesson of all-embracing love for the little ones of other homes, or, sadder still, for those who are practically without homes. Many a child’s life has been embittered, many a well-meaning woman has done untold harm, by believing and repeating evil stories about children. There is no doubt that Satan is making an effort to lead children to ruin; but how unspeakably cruel to slander a child! If he is doing wrong, it will not correct the evil to deprive him of his good name; and if he is innocent, he is thus made the victim of the deepest injustice. Will you not choose to spare the reputation of the boys and girls of your church and school?

Choose to believe the best of the sons and daughters of your brethren and sisters. “O, I never thought! I never understood!” one Christian mother wept as she confessed to another her attitude of mind toward a young man whom her son liked. “I wanted him to stay away; I feared his influence. But God has shown me my wrong; he loves that boy just as dearly as he loves my son. Before it is too late, I shall do all in my power to tell that love to him, and to show my love for him. I have been so short-sighted that I thought my duty was done if I could bring my own son up in the right way. God is teaching me that his love is so wide and so deep that it includes all his children. Hereafter I shall try to help the sons of other mothers.”

Faithfully she labored; earnestly she prayed, in long, wakeful nights, and with bitter tears; but she fell asleep and laid down life’s cares, without knowing that her late-awakened love had borne its fruit.

But you who read her experience have yet time to be swift in loving, quick to speak the right word, at the right time and in the right way, to help the young man and woman, the boy and girl, the children, who have not accepted Jesus as a personal Saviour.

If all the mothers in Seventh-day Adventist churches would choose to exercise their high privilege of loving all the young people, remembering that they are young, and must therefore receive patience and gentleness in greater degree than if they were older and had learned to bear criticism and misunderstanding with more grace,—how many young people would be won to Jesus, and saved to this cause and this work!

Not all will so choose; but you can choose,—not for the other mothers, but for yourself,—what will be your influence with the members of your little company.

And as in the church, so in the neighborhood. It is not the woman who is ever running in to gossip, to borrow, even to visit, whose influence is most widely felt for good. But the woman who is friendly and sympathetic; who is ever ready to lend a helping hand in sickness; who is tolerant, and generous, and above all is ready to see the best and to speak the best of others, and to maintain silence where silence is kinder than speech,—such a woman exerts an unmeasurable influence for good in the community.

Last of all, we must remember that in us there is no good thing. We are granted, indeed, the privilege of choice; but of ourselves we can not even choose aright. Like Paul, when we would do good, we find to our sorrow that evil is present with us. But we can choose Christ. Then, by reliance upon him, daily, hourly, moment by moment, choosing with him, we can choose for ourselves and for others the best gifts.

How shall we choose?

Takoma Park, D. C.