Old as I am, I am still God's little
child, and sometimes I think this truth makes me as mirthful as a child.
When the pain is hardest to bear, when the past, oh, the past--with all
its immeasurable losses, begins to crush my very soul, I turn my dim eyes
upward and repeat to myself, 'There _is_ a Heaven of eternal rest and
joy,' and so I grow serene in my waiting. I have always loved the bright,
pleasant things of this world--it was my nature to do so--but He who bears
the burdens and heartbreak of the whole world has gently lifted my love up
to Him. Didn't He have compassion on the widow of Nain, and say to her,
'Weep not'? My gallant husband, my brave boys and this poor little widow
are all in His hands, and I try to obey His gentle command not to weep
except sometimes when I can't help it and He knows I can't."
The two girls with their heads in her lap were crying softly from
sympathy. With light, caressing touches to each the old lady continued,
"Ella, my dear, you are like me in some respects. You, too, love the
bright pleasant things of this world, and you are so divinely blessed with
a buoyancy of heart that you will make what is hard and humdrum bright for
yourself and others. You will embroider life with sunshine if there is any
sunshine at all. Like myself, you will be able to smile and laugh whenever
the pain is not too severe, yet I fear it will be very hard sometimes.
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