Article October 22, 1932 Issue

Daily Translation

RUTH INGRAHAM

SHE wanted to be a practitioner, wanted to give her whole time to the beautiful work of healing the sick, reassuring the frightened, restoring the lost to the right path, heartening the discouraged with the strong, firm word of Truth. She wanted to bind up the broken-hearted, to give "beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." She had thought, when after years of waiting the privilege of class instruction at last was hers, that the fulfillment of this great ideal was very near. But even yet she could not say that as much as half of her time was given to spiritual work. The material care and toil necessary to the upkeep of the home devolved upon her; she was still treading the grooves between the cupboard, the stove, and the kitchen sink. It seemed to her that her feet had worn a triangular rut, out of which she could never lift them. Self-condemnation pressed heavily upon her. Where was the joy of service when she could demonstrate no better than this? She was not fit to be a practitioner after all!

Out of the depths of discouragement she wrote to a valued worker for some word of counsel; and in reply came a letter so compassionate, so understanding, so loving, that its tender message gave her an entirely new viewpoint and set her heart to singing again. The letter pointed out that we must be patient with this problem of material thoughttaking, lest while solving it we make it bigger to our sense. Then followed a triumphant statement to the effect that spiritual activities soar on eagles' wings above the material, and cannot be obscured or obstructed.

Now, the written word is not all we receive with a letter. It is often accompanied by little flocks of thoughts which the written word implies. This message brought with it (Miscellaneous Writings, p. 396; Poems, p. 12)

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October 22, 1932
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