| Home Making |
Chapter 8 |
Page 3 |
You begin anew. You do not seek this time for grandeur. You build your home with taste and thought. You put into it as many lovely things as you can afford. You set up your household life and fill it with the spirit of prayer, of love, of gentleness, of unselfishness. Again you call the child. She moves up and down, in and out. She sleeps under your roof; she eats at your table; she tastes of your pleasures; she mingles in the life of your household. You ask her what she thinks of your home, and she replies, “I think Jesus lives here!”
It is not the grandeur that impresses her now, but the spirit that dwell within; not the stateliness, but the affectionateness; not the courtliness, but the sweetness. She finds love everywhere – love that shows itself in tone, in act, in look, in word, and in countless little manifestations of thoughtfulness and unselfish tenderness. It impresses the untaught feeling of the child as a home like that in which the Master would live.
This is the true test of home making. It matters not how little or how much of grandeur, of luxury, of costly adornment, there may be. Money and art can do many things, but they cannot make a home. There may be more of the spirit of a true home in a lowly cottage or in the one room where poverty finds a shelter, than in the stateliest mansion.
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