p. 254 | Improved Opportunities by James White

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Jun 17, 1875

Improved Opportunities.

By James White

In a small upper room sat two persons. The one window was filled with plants; the one little book-case was filled with books. The elder lady was seated at a desk, the younger in a low rocker, leaning back, with her hands folded listlessly across each other.

"I have given up trying to find any way of helping, Elizabeth," remarked the occupant of the rocker.

"Have you? Why?"

The elder lady wiped her pen, laid away her writing, and turned around to contemplate the listless maiden.

"Well, if I had given up trying to help I would have a good reason for it; some reason that you will not be ashamed to give when Christ asks you about it, Marion."

Marion looked startled; she sat upright instantly.

"Elizabeth, I didn't really mean that. Tell me how to do some good in the world."

"That hath a good sound," replied Elizabeth, arising for her work-basket. "I am knitting stockings for our home missionary. You may knit while we talk, if you will."

Marion gave a quick little laugh. "You are taking me at my word. Well give it to me."

There was a pause. The only sound in the room was the clicking of two sets of knitting-needles. Then Marion spoke: "For some time I have been wishing I could do something for somebody, and really, Elizabeth, it may be a shameful thing to say, but I can't find out how. Tell me how you find out ways."

Elizabeth smiled. It seems odd to call my little doings, ‘ways,’ but they are ways nevertheless. I can tell you the story of my small experiences. Wait one moment—I’ll set the minister’s heel. I can help keep somebody’s feet warm—Western working feet—if I can’t go myself, Can I?"

After two minutes Elizabeth began the story of her “small experiences.”

"Two or three years ago I began to feel as you do. I wanted to be at work. I had been a lazy Christian long enough. I would say every day, ‘Oh! I wish I could do something for somebody,’ but the opportunity did not come, or, if it did, I did not see it. So a year passed and I found nothing to do outside of my own home. One day I was buying muslin for myself, and it occurred to me that I could afford to buy half a dozen yards of unbleached, and make two or three undergarments for a poor Irish neighbor. It was all I could afford—I have but very little money as you know, Marion. But I do hope to have more if I use well my little fund. That gave me great pleasure. Then I remembered a boy who was dying of consumption; he was sixteen, but he had been sick all his days, and was no older than a boy eight or nine. So I bought a bottle of mucilage and made him a scrap-book all of pictures. It was a very pretty thing, and amused him when he was too weary to read or think. Then I squeezed out money enough to buy him one of the ‘Oil Feather’ series; they were a wonderful pleasure to him—he read them again and again. Then—let me see—are you smiling at my small ways? Oh! then I heard of a poor woman, a widow, who was dying of consumption. I did wish I could make her comfortable, for she needed everything, and most of all I wanted to take her little child; but, instead, I gave her a night-dress and fifty cents, half a dozen lemons, and a pound of crackers. That wasn’t anything to what I wanted to do, but I did my share, the share God gave me to do, and if he has given some one else a larger share, that is all right, isn’t it? And then I was not well enough to do much—I knit several pairs of stockings for our missionary box. A friend sends me the Christian at Work occasionally. I remembered a friend who is not able to take it, so I sent it to her. She wrote only last week: ‘I am sure it makes me happier to read it.’ So I have set that down as one of my improved opportunities. Another thing I have found to do is to send all the religious papers I find here at home to people who need them. And then, Marion, there are letters—you love to write letters—and there is always something happy and hopeful to say."

"But I can’t do your good things."

"Of course you can’t," cried Elizabeth merrily; "I want to do them myself. Don’t do my share—do your own! Ask what your share is and keep your eyes open. Suppose you stop on your way home to call on Ella Ray, who will be kept on the sofa all winter. And there’s another way, Marion—lend all your good books."

Marion arose and laid down her knitting. She tied her hood with a considerably brightened face. "I’ll have to go now if I call on Ella. Set this down as another improved opportunity, Elizabeth."

The above from the Christian at Work is very suggestive, and can easily be adjusted to missionary labor in every department of our work. Read it thoughtfully. J. H. W.