Too Busy

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 31, 1907

THERE are thousands of mothers who are so overburdened with trying to meet the daily material wants of the family that there really seems to be no time for training their children's minds and souls. Let such consider the following incident:—

I have seen a woman who was absolutely ignorant of her children's habits of thought, who never felt that she could spare a half-hour to read or talk with them: I have seen this woman spend ten minutes in ironing a sheet (there were six in the washing), one hour in fluting and arranging the puffs of her little girl's “sweet white suit,” thirty minutes in polishing tins that were already bright and clean, and thirty minutes in frosting and decorating for tea, because “company was expected.”

When that mother, a good, orthodox Christian, shall appear before the great white throne to be judged for the deeds done in the body, and to give in her report of the Master's treasure placed in her care, there will be questions and answers like these:—

“Where are the boys and girls I gave thee?”

Answer.—“Lord, I was busy keeping my house clean and in order, and my children wandered away.”

“Where wert thou when thy sons and daughters were learning lessons of dishonesty, malice, and impurity?”

Answer.—“Lord, I was polishing the furniture, ruffling dresses, and making beautiful rugs.”

“What hast thou to show for thy life-work?”

Answer.—“The tidiest house, Lord,

and the best starching and ironing in all our neighborhood.”

O, these children! these children! the restless, eager boys and girls whom we love more than our lives! Shall we devote our time and strength to that which perisheth, while the rich garden of our child's soul lies neglected, with foul weeds choking out all worthy and beautiful growths? Shall we exalt the incidentals of life to the rank of a purpose, to the shutting out of that work whose results reach beyond the stars?

Fleeting, O mother, are the days of childhood! Speckless windows, snowy linen, the consciousness that everything about the house is faultlessly bright and clean, will be poor comfort in that day wherein we shall discover that our poor boy's feet have chosen the path that shall take him out of the way to all eternity.

—Christian Observer.