The Ideal Home by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, Cal. · Feb 24, 1909

The Ideal Home.

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle.

DIRECTLY or indirectly, all of us who have homes are laboring to establish this very thing. But in this respect as in others, the highest ideal of one person might be the exact opposite of that of another.

For instance, I have known some people to whom the echo of a childish laugh, or the prattle of a childish voice, is productive of great uneasiness and discomfort. To some ultra-nice housekeepers it is as gall and wormwood to find a tidy disarranged, a chair out of the correct angle, or a paper or magazine out of place. For this reason, such people dread the intrusion of any one, especially of children, into their immaculate sanctums, lest a dusty footprint appear on the waxed floor, or an elegant rug be turned up at the corner. But the houses presided over by such natures as these are by no means ideal homes; for the difference is vast between an ideal house and an ideal home. We have but one ideally perfect Pattern,—that is Christ,—and the home where He is an abiding Guest, must be ideal.

My heart goes out in pity for the myriads of little children who are brought up to-day in Christless homes, whose baby lips are never taught to lisp the simple prayer of childish faith, and whose mothers are so busy attending card parties or theaters or clubs that they have no time and less inclination to teach their unfortunate little ones about the love of the Good Shepherd. Such children are greatly to be pitied.

I remember entering a home once which struck me as being the most completely arranged of almost any I had ever seen. It was well lighted and well ventilated, roomy and convenient. No labor-saving device had been spared, no comfort neglected. But after all, something seemed to be lacking. The very atmosphere about the place was cold, formal, and forbidding. Even the little children were nervous and ill at ease in the house in which they spent as little time as possible. The same spirit seemed to dominate their training which would prevail in the management of a hippodrome. I felt sorry for the children, and no less sorry for the parents; neither the one nor the other were truly happy, and I said to myself with a sigh, "An ideal house, but not an ideal home."

Now, if we can solve the secret, and determine the difficulty, if we can discover the element which was lacking, we may be able to avoid the pitfall into which many well-meaning and most excellent people fall.

The lack was most assuredly not a temporal or a physical one, for everything which could in any way minister to the bodily comfort and well-being of the entire household had been carefully and intelligently attended to—the lack was somewhere else.

In contrast with this home, I am thinking of another. These rooms were not nearly so large or so comfortable as the others. Two or three ordinary kerosene lamps did duty for all lighting purposes. And the family cooking was done on a common, old-fashioned cook-stove, considerably the worse for wear. There was not much money in the house, I dare say, but there were plenty of children—and, like the illustrious mother of the Gracchi, the parents counted each child more precious that mines of gold; and the children apparently appreciated the confidence placed in them, and evidently determined, from the greatest to the least of them, that they must not abuse that confidence. They all appeared at the table at meal-time, and right royally did they conduct themselves.

And so it seems to me that complete confidence between parents and children is one of the foundation-stones in the building of an ideal home. Another, which might be called the corner-stone of the building, is unselfish love,—a love which is not too dignified to express itself in tender words and kindly deeds,—a love which will not blush to bestow the kiss of pure affection; a love which betrays itself in gentle words and soft voices; a love which declares that company manners are none too good for everyday wear; a love which is so deep, so tender, so true, so thoughtful, so forgiving, that it is like unto the love which Christ bears for all His children. This, then, is the secret of an ideal home: Confidence and Love. If these are present, never mind if the carpet is old and faded or the curtains worn and dingy; there is an atmosphere of good cheer about the place which makes it lovely; for it is the abode of joy and peace such as the angels in heaven know.