p. 460 | A THANK-OFFERING STORY

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jul 29, 1889

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 15, No. 29.

A THANK-OFFERING STORY.

It was at a thank-offering meeting of the Woman's Missionary Society of one of our city churches. A pile of envelopes lay before the secretary, the contents of which she read aloud, one by one. They ran something like this:—

"For recovery from severe illness, five dollars." "For the granting of the dearest wish of my heart, ten dollars." "For preservation from harm in the great railroad accident when so many were killed and injured, ten dollars." "For the conversion of a son, five dollars." "For the dear baby that has come to me, three dollars."

Mrs. Stanton sat listening to the reading, and blushed a little when her own envelope was opened, and the secretary took out two dollars, enclosed in a blank sheet, accompanied by no word or comment.

The truth was, Mrs. Stanton's life had been very uneventful the last year. It had gone quietly on, with few ups and few downs. She and her husband and her two children had been fairly well; by close economy they had had enough to eat and drink and to dress respectably, though this last had not been accomplished without much thought and care on her part, and various pinchings known only to herself.

Self-denial had seemed to be the key-note of her life the past year; her sky had been rather grey than sunny; her atmosphere rather chill than warm. Not that she made any moan over her self-denials and deprivations. It was all done cheerfully, and no one was the wiser of it but herself. Still, in thinking of this thank-offering meeting, she had wondered just a little for what special reason she should bring her small gift. She could hardly help contrasting her condition now with the luxury by which she had been surrounded a few years ago, before her husband had lost his property in an unfortunate speculation. She wondered a little dully if the conditions would be filled if she should bring her offering out of a general feeling of gratitude that things were no worse with them than they were.

Both she and her husband were systematic givers out of their penury, as they had once been out of their abundance; so this extra gift, small as it was, was at the price of a large self-denial. It would represent her shabby bonnet, worn through another winter, without the refurbishing she had hoped to give it, when it had seemed almost too bad to last out the previous season. Still she was warmly interested in mission work, and gave it gladly, only wishing that it was more.

The secretary read on, while she sat half-listening, half-thinking. Soon her attention was arrested by the reading of this:—

"For the many pleasant little things that have fallen to my share this year, two dollars."

Other notes were read; remarks were made; the meeting closed, and Mrs. Stanton went thoughtfully home; the words "For the pleasant little things" ringing in her ears. She wondered if she had always taken note of her own pleasant small things as they came to her. She feared not. Looking back in the light of this thought she could recall numberless little acts of kindness from others to herself that had sweetened her life, and for which, though she had been grateful to the givers, she scarcely remembered to have raised her head to Heaven in gratitude. She resolved to be upon the lookout hereafter.

Even as she meditated the bell rang, and going to the door there stood little Elly Hale with a great bunch of roses in her hand.

"Aunt Elly sent mamma a big box of roses to-day—so many she can't use them all—and will you please take these?" said the little messenger, a child of a wealthy neighbor and a sister in the church, and one whose thoughtful kindnesses were nothing new in this household.

Mrs. Stanton kissed the little maiden, and sent her home with thanks. Then she buried her face in the flowers with childish delight. She loved beautiful things, and often had to take herself to task for her vain longings for them. But now there was a feeling almost of awe mingled with her pleasure as she remembered again the "little things," and how soon her thought had been responded to. She finished her preparations for supper with a light step, pausing often to look at the flowers and inhale their fragrance as she passed them. They brought a glow to her heart which was reflected in her face, and which her husband and children caught as they sat down to supper.

Before she went to bed that night she inscribed an envelope: "Thank-offerings for Pleasant Little Things," and dropped a nickel in it for the handful of roses.

The next afternoon as she sat mending Willie's jacket, Mrs. Dodd came in with the Forum in her hand.

"Here is an article," she said, "that I thought you would be interested in, so I brought it over to read with you."

The article was read and discussed. Both women received some new ideas, some inspirations to better living, and parted feeling heartened and uplifted by the pleasant hour. That night another nickel bore the first one company.

"Oh, mamma," cried Willie, as he came rushing in from school on examination day, "I passed ninety-eight in my arithmetic today. Aren't you glad? Didn't I have to study for it, though?"

"Indeed I am glad, Willie, more glad than I can say, not only for the passing and good record, but I am glad because it shows you have been in earnest, and determined to conquer your easy-going habits of study. You make me very happy."

So happy that another contribution went into the thankful envelope.

"Did you know," said Mr. Stanton, one evening, "that Mrs. Floyd slipped on the icy sidewalk this afternoon and broke her ankle?"

"No! Is it possible?"

"It is a bad injury, and the doctors say that she will be confined to the house for months."

"How dreadful! What if it had been I? I was out this afternoon too, but I did not slip and break my bones. Ought I not to be thankful?"

So thankful that a twenty-five-cent piece in the envelope that night put the nickels quite out of countenance.

The next day she went down town to get a much-needed cloak for May. She had priced cloaks a few days before, and the very cheapest she could find that would be at all serviceable was $12. It was a large sum to take from their slender income, yet this was one of the "must haves," or May would be obliged to leave school. When she arrived at the store she found that this particular line of cloaks had been marked down that very morning to $10, which she joyfully paid, and that night deposited a coin in the envelope.

A day or two later little Elly Hale appeared at the door with the message that her mother was sick, and would Mrs. Stanton please come in and sit with her a little while.

She went with the little messenger.

"I am sorry to trouble you," said Mrs. Hale, "but the nurse is away for the day, the cook is in a temper, and I feel one of my terrible headaches coming on. Sometimes the nurse has been able to ward them off by rubbing, and as company is coming to-morrow I don't see how I can afford to have one now. So in my despair I sent to see if you can help me."

Mrs. Stanton could and did. A half-hour's gentle manipulation of the aching head sent the sufferer into a quiet sleep, from which she awoke two hours later with the pain gone, weak but happy.

"Surely," mused Mrs. Stanton that evening, "I ought to be thankful for the power to do a kindness—even a little one—as well as to receive one," and she dropped a dime in the envelope.

"It is getting heavy," she thought with a happy smile. "At this rate I shall be banking soon." Yet she did not seem greatly alarmed at the prospect.

One afternoon Helen Brown, a member of her Sunday-school class, came in. She seemed depressed and anxious. After a little common-place talk her teacher said:—

"What is it, Helen? Does something trouble you? Can I help you?"

"O Mrs. Stanton! I want to be a Christian. I am so unhappy. Will you tell me what to do?"

The sacred hour that followed neither of them will ever forget. When Helen left it was with a new light in her eyes, a new love in her heart, a new purpose in her living. Her feet were set in the way of everlasting life.

"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Stanton to herself that night, "this is not one of the 'little things.' For this great privilege—this great honor—of leading a soul to Christ, all that I have in the world would be but a small thank-offering. What can I render unto the Lord for all his goodness to me? A fresh and whole consecration to his service is the least I can offer."

But into the envelope also went its largest contribution yet.

As time passed on, life held a new sweetness and a new meaning for Mrs. Stanton. Her days seemed to be full of pleasant things; her heart was attuned to the thanksgiving; and out of the abundance of her heart her mouth spoke. Her envelope grew full almost to bursting; and yet there was no lack of earthly comforts. She sometimes felt as if the miracle of the widow's cruse of oil and measure of meal was repeated in her, for the more she put away in the sacred envelope the more she had to put there; and when the next thank-offering came around it was no vain oblation that she carried to the place of meeting, but her little gift—small yet in comparison with some of the others—was sweetened through and through with gratitude and love.—Christian Weekly.