SUNSHINE IN THE HOME by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Apr 27, 1904

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 30, No. 17.

SUNSHINE IN THE HOME.

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

“Catch the sunshine; see it flicker Through the dark and dismal cloud.”

THE words rang out cheerily enough, tho there was a suggestion of tears in the last line.

Mrs. Mason walked to the window and glanced out in the gray twilight. It had been one of those dreary, chilly spring days, when old winter seems determined never to submit to being driven from his icy fortress by his mild-eyed brother. It had been a dreary day indoors as well as out, and it had taken all of Mrs. Mason's resolution to keep cheerful. We have all experienced those days when everything goes wrong, from the rising of the sun until the going down of the same. The breakfast is either burned or undone. The wood is wet, and the fire goes out in the grate, and there are so many little things—trifles, if you please—but it is their unusual number which is so exasperating.

Mrs. Mason had felt nervous and irritable all day; but she was a brave little woman, and that morning her eye had caught the title of a poem in the morning paper. She had no time to read it, but the title somehow had stayed in her memory all day, and it had helped her wonderfully. It was, “Smile, Woman, Smile!” At first Mrs. Mason had felt a sort of resentment. “Smile! I should think as much! I’d like to know how I am going to smile when I feel more like crying! Here it is school-time, and the children not ready yet; Jack has torn his coat, and Willie can’t find his slate; grandma has a bad headache, and can’t come out to her breakfast; the bread refuses to rise, and I’m just sure it’s going to be sour; and, to cap the climax, the stove has gone on a strike and is smoking dreadfully, and—O dear! here comes Mrs. Jackson!” and the little woman could scarcely keep back the tears which came to her eyes as she stepped to the door. Now Mrs. Jackson was one of those women who never seem to know what it is to be in a hurry, and whose favorite time for calling on her neighbors is in the morning. But, in spite of herself, Mrs. Mason could not forget those words; they seemed almost like a message from above: “Smile, Woman, Smile!”

“I believe the Lord meant those words for me, for He says, ‘In everything give thanks;’ and now I am determined to try to bring a little sunshine into this house, even if I don’t feel like it;” and with the resolution came a quick prayer for grace and strength,—voiceless, indeed, but none the less a prayer, which winged its way like a flash of light to the loving Father who “knoweth our frame.” So, when at last Mrs. Jackson arose to go, after an unusually long stay, she declared that she felt ever so much better and more cheerful than when she came, and wished she never had any more to trouble her than Mrs. Mason had!

But Mrs. Mason had gained a real victory, and, conscious of it, she went from grace to grace all day.

The trials were none the less. The bread was sour, as she had feared; grandma was worse as the day advanced; the baby was fretful; the stove smoked worse than ever; the potatoes for dinner were burned,—but the dear little woman smiled on.

“It’s awful lonesome outdoors,” declared little Jack, “but mama’s face looks just like the sunshine.”

The afternoon was filled with exasperating, nerve-wearing failures, as had been the morning, but the smile never faded from Mrs. Mason’s face; and the sweet song about the sunshine echoed through the rooms.

“You have been a great comfort to me all day, dear, for I was very lonely in the morning,” smiled grandpa at the supper table. “I love my mama,” declared little Harry, “'cause she looks just as sweet, and her voice sounds like the birds!”

“Mama has been making sunshine all day,” declared Mr. Mason, smiling archly at the little woman; and he continued, “the business cares of the day have been very wearing, my dear, and I should have been quite discouraged had it not been for your sweet, smiling face.”

Then the little woman only smiled the more brightly, as she declared, “When it’s gloomy outdoors, we only need the more sunshine within.”

My sisters, the experience of Mrs. Mason may be ours. We all know what it is to be wearied with the monotonous duties of the day, until it seems only another name for drudgery. But O, when we feel like frowning, let us smile instead! When we feel like crying, let us sing. Maybe the voice will tremble, but “God will love us the better.” “He knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust,” are not idle, meaningless words,—they are the pledges of the Almighty.

We have seen people who act as if it were sinful to smile. Among my early acquaintances there was a young girl who possessed an almost perfect face—complexion, contour, features,—all as faultless as those of a model, yet, despite all that kind nature had done for her, she was anything but beautiful or attractive. The secret was simply this: She rarely smiled, and her face wore the habitual frown of morose discontent, which is of itself enough to ruin the face and features of any one.

“But,” some one says, “it detracts from my dignity to simper.” I do not ask you to simper. I ask you to smile. If you don't know how, you would better practise until you do. Away with such false notions of dignity!

I know a dear old lady, whose hair is white as snow, and her form is bent with the burden of years. Her eyes are no longer bright, and I am sure she never dreams that she is beautiful. But I tell you, she is positively lovely,—she is more, she is bewitching. If you do not believe me, go with me to visit her some day, and see her smile, and hear her hearty, genial laugh; it will do you good. If you are in sorrow or trouble, her soft voice is full of sympathy, and her dim eyes with tears; for she has learned to “rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.”

O, the poor old world is hungry for smiles and innocent, hearty laughter! If you were to ask me for a certain panacea for almost all the ills to which flesh is heir, I would answer unhesitatingly, “Smiles and laughter.”

Do you remember, in “Pilgrim’s Progress,” how the old Giant Despair fell down in a fit because the sun shone? A good, hearty laugh will cure the worst case of the blues which Satan ever sent with which to torture and torment poor humanity. Did you ever notice that, when you feel sad and discouraged, your eyelids droop and you look down? O my brother, my sister; look up! look up! speak a good, hearty, “God bless you,” once in a while, and don’t be so chary of your smiles,—don’t!

Then, young woman, if you would be beautiful, smile—don’t smirk; don’t be silly, but do be cheerful. Cultivate sunshine in your heart and in your home.

Old people—yes, I must speak a word to you. Was it a great shock to you when the young folks began to call you “grandma” and “grandpa”? Never mind; there is no use in resenting it. We may be old, but that is no reason why we should be cross and gloomy. Smile; the rheumatism is painful, and the heart aches for the days and the friends of yore; but if you lift up your head and smile in spite of it all, you are a true hero, or heroine.

Remember the words of the wise man: “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.”