Thoughtful Moments OUR SUNDAY MESSAGE

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 7, Issue 13, 8 October 1943, Page 2

Thoughtful Moments OUR SUNDAY MESSAGE

ONE OF THESE LITTLE ONES There are no tears like a child's tear's They make the angels' weep; There are no fears like a child's fears Ln demon-haunted sleep. There are no eyes like a child's eyes, Clear, laughter-filled, and glad; There are no cries like a child's cries, So infinitely sad. There are. no songs like a child's songs, Rising to Heaven's gate; There are no wrongs like a child's wrongs, Suffered through lust and hate. There are no souls like a child's soul, Created for His joy, Who stooped to earth in a child's soul — God —fashioned as a Boy. So wrote F. Barrie Flint, in the British Weekly some years ago. From there it was transferred to my scrap book. (I wonder if all our readers know the joy and the value of a scrap book? I!n time, it becomes the harvest of the years.) Reading the verses through again, the line, "There aren o wrongs, like a child's wrongs" caught me. The day of child-drudgery is past. We don't ask our children to leave school and go into factories: we don't even keep little daughters home to mind the baby on washing day. But there are still injustices, often so subtle that we fail to notice them. I think of a little family who are feverishly planning and holding Saturday afternoon functions at their home, that they may have j eighteenpence to hand over to help win the war! An admirable spirit! I don't think so. A few months ago a writer in the Otago Daily Times said: "One of the occasions on which wise and sympathetic people should remain silent concerning all aspects of the war is surely when children are in earshot. We have been amazed., lately, in discussing this question with friends, to learn how unhappily many who were children during the Great War recall the troub.ecl talk —and dark fantasies — in which their elder indulged to bring in the morning newspaper from the gate in fear and trembling, because of the dismal and forboding conversation it caused at the breakfast table; of a girl who for years would wake up screaming in the night, burdened with un-named terrors originating in discussion in the drawing-room; we know a woman who cannot, to-da3 r , hear a bell toll-

(Supplied by the Whakatont Ministers' Association).

ing without recalling something approaching nausea the solemn, fearlul Whispering of her parents when the bell was rung at the. Town Hal., in the* last war, as was the custom, when special news was to be announced. Now another generation of youngsters is fated to spend part of its youth in an atmosphere of worry engendered by i-ts parents,, teachers, and the public. It is not these children's war, and if we remember that, we shall be doing them a service." "There are no fears like, a child's fears." It seems incredible that a child should live in fear of an unpaid mortgage, resulting in the family losing their home! Yet a lady told me that her childhood was shadowed by that, very thing. August was graven on her mind as the month when the interest must be paid, following weeks of feverish talk on the subject. Her own pennies were, pathetically offered to help in the great effort. As she grew older she concluded that this half-yearly struggle had become a habit of mind, calculated (unconsciously perhaps) to impress the family with the idea of thrift. But. it was a great injustice. Not that our children should have everything they fancy,, that, is not going to make life easy for them. A simple, "No, we can't manage; that,'" will never hurt .them. A certain amount of hardship is good for us all, even necessary. And we do our children even greater injustice by striving to grant their every wish. A beautiful bunch of tulips was given to me the other day. I asked the grower the secret of such fine blooms. One point was, "Plant the bulbs deep in the soil. Having to force their way up, develops the. flowers." So we must not remove that element of struggle from the lives of our little ones. Neither must we burden them with our loads, and financial anxiety should never enter into their lives.

"There are no songs like a child's song." And this is their natural and normal atmosphere, and it is noticeable that the best disciplined children are the happiest. I heard, a lovely manse story recently. For two nights Marjory couldn't sleep., and after some tears crept into Sister's bed. Next night fears fell again: shec ou'dn't go to sleep. "Count sheep," advised Sister. She didn't want to count sheep. "'Try bullocks." She hated bullocks. Then Sister's patience, gave out: she told Marjory what a naughty girl she was,, and gave her some sound advice, leaving her with instructions to count her blessings alphabetically. At 10.15 a little voice called, "S'ister, is U for ugliness,?" After that silence settled down in the manse. Marjory's blescsings had outnumbered her woes!