The Blessing She Missed by Sara V. Du Bois

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Nov 25, 1915

The Blessing She Missed

By Sara V. Du Bois

SUCH a busy day as she had spent! With untiring labor she had toiled since the break of day; and, weary in body and mind, she had seated herself for a few moments of rest.

She could not relax even now; there was so much to occupy her thoughts. The interruptions had been more than ordinary, and they had vexed her spirit. Scarcely had she begun her common round of duties when little Margaret had come to her with a bleeding finger. She had given one glance to assure herself that the wound was trivial; then she had sent the child away, denying her the sympathy she asked.

An hour later she had come upon Margaret sitting upon the lower step of the porch, nursing the hurt finger and sobbing softly to herself. She was not often so coldly unsympathetic, and she almost relented now; but the silver must be polished, and the parlor dusted before eleven o’clock, and there was not a moment to spare, even on her baby daughter.

It seems singular that Mrs. Greenough should have been taken worse that day of all days, one of the busiest days in the round of duties. Friends had sent for her just after the dining room furniture had been removed to the side porch. No one could have seen the end; if she had known, she would have left the work and gone, but she had thought the evening would do just as well. Now it was too late. Mrs. Greenough had fallen asleep, and the busy housekeeper shed tears as she reflected that she had not seen her.

Of all days, it had seemed the hardest to bear. Edward had said she was sacrificing her life to no purpose, when he came in at four o’clock and found her still busy. He said it was not his will that his wife should become a domestic. This had angered her, and she had answered him bitterly. He had gone out immediately after, and she had not seen him since. She had heard of wives who had broken up their homes by such actions as this. She began weeping, and the next moment her tired brain relaxed and she was asleep.

A wonderful vision came to her: Christ was coming, and it was not known at whose home he would stop. Was ever such honor known? Everything must be in readiness,—he might pause at her door! She had garnished and slaved for hours, till her exhausted powers would no longer bear the strain. Then he stood before her, and her eyes fell before the look of mingled sorrow and reproach on his countenance.

“Enter, O Master!” she cried.

“Nay,” was the answer. “Three times this day have I knocked at your door, and you opened not unto me.”

“Nay, Master, all day long have I toiled here, and have not seen you.”

“Ah!” was the sad reply, “dost thou remember Margaret’s tears and thy lack of sympathy? Hast thou forgotten the saint who passed away, and whose desire it was to see thee? Dost thou forget

thine anger with thy husband, the protector who cares for thy well-being? Inasmuch as thou hast denied them, erring one, thou hast denied me.”

She started from her dream, to find Edward beside her and Margaret kneeling at her feet.

“What is it, Annette?” he said, eagerly.

“The Christ came and could not enter. I was so filled with selfish ambition. O Edward, forgive me! Margaret, show mother where the wound was, that she may kiss the spot. Oh, that I should have forgotten that even a cup of cold water, offered in his name, is given unto him!”—Sara V. Du Bois, in the Christian Intelligencer.