From the Juvenile Instructor, November 1911 –
Thanksgiving Sermons
By L. L. Greene Richards
The November sunshine flashed in at the east window as Hope Gladmoore raised the blind higher so that she might have “more light” on the subject of combing her bright, glossy brown hair before her mirror.
“Now shall Zion rise and shine —
Fill the world with light divine.”
She sang in a clear, sweet treble. Then turning to her mother who sat by the table reading, she asked: “Mother, do you think it is vain pride to want to look as beautiful as we can?”
“How could there be any wrong in such a desire?” Mrs. Gladmoore asked, raising her eyes from her book to her nineteen-year-old daughter’s bright, smiling face. “If the One that made you did not care to see beautiful things. He need not have made you quite so good looking,” the mother added in a vein of pleasantry. And then they both laughed.
“You’re making fun of me now,” mother, but I don’t care!” said Hope lightly, as she was putting the last touches to the shining braids and modest little pufifs she had been arranging.
“Have you studied our next home reading from the Bible?” asked her mother. “No,” answered Hope, “did not hear father say which it was to be. Meant to ask about it, but forgot.”
“He would like us to first read the Forty-eighth Psalm,” said Mrs. Gladmoore, “and the second verse in it begins with ‘Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth is mount Zion.’ If the Lord did not delight in beautiful things, why would He have His Zion so beautiful that it should be the joy of the whole earth?”
The mother closed her book and stood up beside her daughter who was now putting on her hat preparatory to going out; she adjusted the collar and smoothed the back of Hope’s jacket.
“O, Mother!” said the young woman, “I know my question this morning was a foolish one, but I do want to keep to sensible thoughts and not be vain in any way. I hope Mrs. Jones will make the trimming on the new hat I selected look neat and pretty, and not at all conspicuous. I will go down to her store and get the hat, and come back as quickly as I can, so we shall have plenty of time to make all preparations today for our Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”
“If we haven’t cause for sincere thanksgiving this year, no one has!” said Mrs. Gladmoore earnestly.
“I have been thinking so much of our great and many blessings this morning!” Hope responded. “We are all so well this season, our taxes are all paid, and other burdens that have worried father have been lightened so that he sees his way clear; and I — only think of it! — have fifteen dollars of my own to spend on a new hat, if I want to.”
“Be careful not to spend your means unnecessarily,” said the prudent mother. “But get something you like and can feel comfortable in wearing.”
Hope kissed her mother, and went out into the soft, cheerful autumn sunshine. She walked quickly with a continuous joyful response in her fresh, young heart to all she beheld in nature that seemed to be sending forth praise and gratitude to the great, kind Giver of all good things.
She passed many fine dwellings where green lawns and sparkling fountains added to the loveliness of the scenes; and in some instances the latest of the autumn flowers seemed to have donned their last brightening effects, and to he saying, “O let us hasten and put forth all our remaining strength, and do all we can to make the world more beautiful and to gladden the hearts of men before Mother Nature says we have to cuddle down and go to sleep under the snow!”
In striking contrast to those homes of luxury and elegance, Hope noticed with interest a little, dingy house of only two rooms with a narrow porch in front, but no lawn. A board was fastened up at one end of the house with the notice, ‘’For Sale,” on it. Yet the place was inhabited. On the porch were several piles of clothes lying as if assorted ready to be washed. And as Hope approached near, she could hear the fretful little wail of a hungry baby from inside the house.
“A baby!”’ she meditated. “An innocent, helpless little child living in such a place! And that!” with a glance and a gesture of the hand back toward the homes of wealth she had been passing.
She paused an instant in front of the old, tumble-down looking place, and just then a woman with the baby on one arm came out and took up some of the soiled clothing with the unoccupied hand. The woman cast a hurried glance at Hope who still stood watching her, and as she did so the girl could not refrain from calling out a cheery “Good morning!” “Good morning!”’ the woman responded cordially, throwing the clothes she had taken up into a tub that stood inside the door, and then turning toward Hope with an appearance of willingness to be sociable although they were strangers to each other.
Feeling a strong inclination to talk with the woman for a short time, Hope asked if she might sit on the corner of the porch and rest for a few moments.
“Won’t you come inside?” the woman asked hospitably.
“O no!” replied Hope. “I want the sunshine and the fresh air, but, I thought I’d like to speak with you for a moment — that’s all?”
The woman darted into the house, and in spite of Hope’s remonstrance against her taking the least trouble, she brought out a chair and insisted on her caller’s sitting in it while she should rest and talk. Then she sat down herself and played with her baby a short time before giving him the “breakfast” he was teasing for.
“Excuse me,” said Hope, “but, do you intend to do all this large washing by yourself?”
“I certainly do!” answered the woman, “intend to wash all these clothes today, and iron them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is a holiday, Thanksgiving,” said Hope. “You ought not to have to work on a day like that.”
“Perhaps I ought not to have to,” the woman answered with a smile. “But I must, nevertheless.” And seeming to feel that Hope was talking to her in friendly interest, not through idle curiosity, she went on to say, “My husband and I do not expect to have to live in this way all our lives. We are working now to pay for a piece of ground. And when we get the deed to the land, we hope to have a comfortable little home built on it, which, when it is paid for, will be our own.”
“That is very sensible, indeed!” Hope replied. “But must you really work so hard on Thanksgiving day, when every one is supposed to have a good dinner and enjoy it, without working much, or doing anything but to praise and thank the great All-giver?”
“This unfortunate thing, if so it should be called.” said the woman, “came about in this way. Two weeks ago my husband’s father died. Husband had to pay railroad fare to go to the funeral, and had to meet some of the funeral expenses beside. More than that, he lost a week’s time of his work, the company by which he is employed cut out his wages for the whole week, which, altogether, makes us very short of means. So we shall have to do extra work and cut our expenses down as much as possible in order to keep our payments up on the land, and not run behind in other respects. I shall not have anything extra to cook for Thanksgiving dinner, so can put in the time I should spend on
that, getting my ironing done. You see, if it is a loss not to have the dinner, there’s a gain on time in not having to prepare it. So we shall give thanks and be joyful, anyhow.”
The woman’s voice was full of cheerful courage instead of weak despondency, her eyes sparkled and there was no cloud on her face. Hope’s interest in her was doubled.
“You and your baby look healthy, I do not see how you can keep so living here,” Hope ventured.
Still smiling, the young mother answered,
“Husband and I have been attending the Parents’ Class in our Ward Sunday School for quite a while now, and have learned much about right living and making the best of whatever opportunities we have. I also attend the mother’s lectures in our Relief Society meetings, and we try to put in practice all the good, helpful hints we get from these and all other sources. When we rented this place and came here to live, before moving in, husband took up some of the loose boards in the floors and raked out all the mouldy dirt and decaying stuff, and spread new lime all over under the house and the porch. We have a folding spring bed which we can fold and roll through the door, and we bring it out here at night so we can sleep out of doors, and in the morning we roll it in again. We try to find out what we can have in the way of food that will be most healthful and strengthening for us, and while we cannot afford much variety or anything expensive, we manage to keep good appetites and to enjoy what we have to eat and drink. So you see we have much that we should give thanks for tomorrow, and every day, if we cannot spend Thanksgiving day like the majority of people.”
“Who is your Relief Society teacher?” Hope asked, after hearing the woman’s brief statement and considering it a moment.
“Sister King is one of them,” answered the woman. “She lives down on the next corner there,” and is very excellent in her work and helpfulness in the Society.”
Hope arose then, saying, “Well, I have hindered your work some perhaps, but — “
“Oh, no!” said the woman. “My baby needed to be nursed and comforted, which I have attended to while talking with you. He will be happy and good now for hours. I thank you for your interest, and have enjoyed your call.”
“You have done me good.” said Hope, “so we have been mutually benefitted.” And she walked briskly away, after patting the baby’s hand, kissing the crown of his head and making him laugh.
The house indicated as “Sister King’s” by the woman Hope had been talking with, was her next stopping place. Finding that lady at home, and pleased to give her a brief audience, the young philanthropist told in a few words the story of the couple with their baby, who were not going to have anything for Thanksgiving dinner. Sister King, as the woman’s Relief Society . teacher, was very pleased with Hope’s report, and the sincerity and tact she manifested in finding out and bringing to the notice of the proper person the real condition of the worthy little family, with its self-helpfulness and brave independence. And Hope was much gratified with receiving a promise from the Relief Society teacher that she would look into the matter at once, and see to it that a chicken, and fruit and vegetables, and whatever might be found necessary for a comfortable Thanksgiving dinner was provided for that deserving man and woman.
At the milliner’s Hope soon discovered that she did not care for the new hat she had selected and left to be trimmed some days before. Try as she would, Mrs. Jones could not make it quite what the young lady wanted. But for this Mrs. Jones was really glad, for she had been offered a better price for the hat than Hope was to give her.
“Please forgive my troubling you so much, Mrs. Jones,” Hope said, without having spent much time in the store, “but I have decided not to have a new hat at present. This one has always suited me so well that I do not want to give it up until I have to. So if you will please change the trimming on it for me, I will wait while you do so. Take the flowers off, they are done for, and put a bow of velvet in their place, and arrange it so that the little bend in the rim will be at the side now instead of the back. You can see, perhaps, better than I, some little touches which will freshen it up, and I shall be more comfortable with it than I would be with any of the new ones.”
Thirty minutes time and two dollars and a half was what Hope’s millinery bill came to, and she left the store feeling well satisfied with what she had there accomplished.
She took the same way home that she had followed in walking down town, and called again at the little dingy, tumble-down place. The baby was asleep now, in a clothes basket and on the porch. She stepped softly around him and made no noise to disturb his sleep. The woman came at once to the door, and as the chair she had placed for Hope when she first called still stood there, she smiled and motioned her visitor to rest in it again. Hope smiled too, and sat down.
“After you were gone,” said the woman, “I thought of my neglect in not asking you to call again. But I felt that you would do so, though I did not expect it would be so soon.” “I have a reason for calling this time,” said Hope. “I have done the shopping I was going in town to do, and am delighted to tell you that I have ten dollars left over, which I can just as well loan you for a month, or two months, or three if necessary, as not. I want you to take it so you need not work tomorrow, neither you nor your husband, but spend a real joyful and restful Thanksgiving day. Will you oblige me?”
The woman who had smiled so courageously while facing the apparent hard day’s work for the tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, broke down and wept profusely at this unexpected show of sisterly interest from an entire stranger; or in other words, this unlooked-for intervention of kind Providence.
“I thank you so much, my dear young lady,” she said when she could speak, “but I could not possibly allow you to make such a sacrifice for me.”
“You will lessen my happiness very much for tomorrow if you refuse to accept the help I offer you,” said Hope. “You see I am not trying to give you the money, I only wish to lend it to you, and you can pay it back whenever it comes convenient — not before, however long it may be; but I feel sure it will not be long, not nearly so long as you may think now. Take it, and please give me your promise that you will not work hard tomorrow, ‘only let your food he prepared with singleness of heart, that your joy may be full.’ Will you not oblige me and help me to have a good and happy Thanksgiving day tomorrow?”
Thus urged, the woman accepted the loan and gave the promise Hope asked for.
The next day was one of unusual joyousness and real Thanksgiving to both Hope and the woman who lived in the dingy little house. For into the heart of each there had come the sudden realization of being possessed of a treasure of inestimable worth, a new and choice friend.
Kindness, like mercy, “falleth as the gentle dews from heaven upon the place beneath. It is thrice blessed, it blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”