Wisdom from a child's book

     Finished reading one of our very favorite books with our youngest child the other night.  Peter and I had started it a long time ago, but it's been increasingly difficult (well, almost impossible) to find time at night to read with a middle schooler.  I really don't want to age out of reading to my children...though I know that's almost happened.  Sigh.
     Thinking back over the years, no matter how exhausting or discouraging some of those looooong days with our children might have been, reading out loud with them at night was always a joy.  Wonderful books like Little Britches inevitably restored perspective, revived flagging spirits, and often revealed profound truths.  We read this wonderful book with all of our children, so when we closed it's well-worn pages the other night, I felt so sad to finish that chapter of life.  Guess it's time to start looking forward to grandchildren!
     But I thought I'd share two little vignettes (among so many) from this wonderful little book.  Little Britches, by the way is the true story of Ralph Moody and his family who sell all their meager earthly possessions and move from New Hampshire to Colorado to make a new life. It's a beautiful story about the unrelenting work, sacrifice, hardships, challenges, and love of a family trying to make a go of it in  the hard scrabble life of ranching in the early 20th century.
     When they first arrive in Colorado, the "home" they were promised is nothing more than a one room broken down shed--completely uninhabitable.  Moody describes his parents' reaction:             "Mother said, 'Charlie, I don't see how in the world we can do it...with only 387 dollars.  I thought, of course, there'd be good buildings and stock and machinery on it.  We've got a lot of planning to do.'  Her voice sounded hoarse, and seemed to be coming from way down in her throat.
     Father didn't say anything until he had put me down and taken Hal from Mother.  Then he put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her up against him...'There's only one thing to plan about, Mame,' he said, 'and that's getting tickets home while we've still got the money.  I won't have you live in any such God-forsaken place as this.' [They were quite literally out in the middle of nowhere!]
     They stood that way for two or three minutes while Father's hand patted up and down on Mother's shoulder.  And there wasn't a sound, except that dry little cough that Father had then.  When Mother lifted her head, her lips were pressed tightly together, and her voice wasn't trembly any more.  'The Bible says, 'Trust in the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.'  The hand of God has led us here; we have set our shoulders to the wheel, and we will not turn back.'"
     That's good stuff when you need a little reminding to put some starch in your soul!
     A bit later in the book, young Ralph is dishonest with his Mother and takes a dangerous and foolish risk with their horse. When his Father arrives home, he solemnly shares words of great wisdom with Ralph:
     "When he spoke, his voice was deep and dry, and I knew he must have been coughing a lot on the way home. 'Son, there is no question but what the thing you have done today deserves severe punishment.  You might have killed yourself or the horse, but much worst than that, you have injured your own character.  A man's character is like his house.  If he tears boards off his house and burns them to keep himself warm and comfortable, his house soon becomes a ruin.  If he tells lies to be able to do the things he shouldn't do but wants to, his character will soon become a ruin.  A man with a ruined character is a shame on the face of the earth.'"
     How many times have I thought about that (or shared it with our children)?  When tempted to do something that might be wrong, it's a mighty good question to ask--Am I tearing boards off of my character house?  How am I foolishly burning those boards to earn some temporary measure of comfort or pleasure...at the expense of what really matters?
     Oh Father, help us to live wisely.  In the words of Jonathan Edwards, "Lord, stamp eternity on my eyeballs."  If we have eternity ever before us, we won't foolishly choose short-term pleasure over long-term gain...or tear off those boards from our character house.
     Aren't great books an amazing gift from God?  Thanks for letting me share one that we've loved.  Hope it put a bit of starch in your soul and wisdom in your perspective.  Sure did for me.
     To God be the glory.