Home Ideals - No. 1 by MRS. I. H. E.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 27, 1915

Home Ideals — No. 1

By MRS. I. H. E.

WITHOUT ideals one cannot do better than he is doing. Ideality goes beyond what is, to what should be. It is one of the gifts of nature that makes the artist, the musician, the orator. Most persons are endowed with this gift to some degree, but not all to the same degree. Ideality is not only an inheritance, but it may be cultivated and trained. Like other faculties of the mind, it may be educated by study, observation, and meditation.

There is no place in the world where the gift of ideality can be of more service than in the home. Few of us will ever be able to visit the great art galleries of the world, to feast our eyes on the highest ideals of form and color, or to hear the masters of music. If by some happy chance, we enjoy these privileges, it is for but a relatively short time as compared with the time we spend in our homes. If we are permitted to hear some great violinist or pianist, or some sweet singer or famous orator, it is but for an hour; and then comes the daily round of homely duties.

Then why should not the mother, whose home is her kingdom, seek to make it a kingdom founded on high ideals? Whether we wish it to be so or not, whether we take conscious thought to that end or allow things to drift, our homes are what we make them. Then why should not we set ourselves the task of making them as beautiful and as ideal as home can be made? This does not necessarily require a well-appointed new house set in stately grounds, nor does it mean that the mother must be a slave to her house, her husband, and her children. In fact, an ideal home cannot exist with a fretful, worried, worn-out mistress at its head.

Most of us have seen at least one home that has remained in our minds a picture of what the ideal home should be. Such was the home of Aunt Anne in a little Ohio town. “It was a peaceful place,” said a niece who visited there long ago, with her mother and five thumping boys.

Seven guests—and five of them boys! Would that company disturb the serenity and calm of your home, mothers of today? Perhaps, but not of Aunt Anne’s. When the guests came down in the morning, the rooms were open and aired; a satisfying breakfast was on the table; and Aunt Anne, serene and dainty and unharried, dispensed an unstinted hospitality.

The work of the home was done by herself and a woman who had long lived with her; but so smoothly, apparently so easily, was it accomplished, that no feeling of unrest, of “strain” or anxiety, drove the angel of peace from its portals. Washing and ironing, mending and sweeping, dusting and arranging, mopping and scouring, cooking and baking,—including a daily replenishing of the cooky jar,—all had to be done and done again; and in all, Aunt Anne, quiet and deft, pleasant and serene, was the central figure.

“That was my ideal home,” said the niece; “no worry, no fuss, everything in its place, time for all that needed to be done!”

“But how did she manage it?” I asked; for it is easy to recognize an ideal and sometimes hard to compass it.

“I don’t know; she had a system.” Thus falling back on this overworked word, the subject dropped.

The ideal home rests on a foundation of many precious stones, among which system has its place. Others are love, law, religion, prayer, order, cleanliness, purity, kindness, honor. Some of these will be considered later in this department.

MRS. I. H. E.