September 30, 1958

Meditations by B. C. Money

As we enter letter writing this week we hope to write a least one letter a day to some shut-in, lonely-hearted or aged person and as many more as we are able to write to, for we all enjoy receiving a friendly letter.

And with our splendid telephone system, why not make it a practice to call someone each day and wish them a pleasant happy day?   And what is more heartwarming when we meet our fellowman on the highway or at church and be greeted with a hearty hand shake with a kind word and pleasant smile?   Yes that is true fellowship.

And the Lord knows we need more fellowship and love toward each other as we see and hear so much today of the hatred and strife as it exists in our so-called Christian nation with men spending their time and energy making weapons of destruction.   When will we cease to make these instruments to destroy men’s lives?   God hasten the day when we will “beat our swords into plow shares and spears into pruning hooks” when nations will not lift up swords against nations and we will not learn war any more.

As we enjoy the lovely October weather with all its changing scenes of beauty as the leaves on the trees change their color from green to golden yellow, red and brown giving the forest a beauty that exceeds that of Solomon and all his glory.   And the birds singing as they fly from bough to bough among the trees while the little squirrel sits on a limb with is long bushy tail curled on its back as it chatters away and holding a nut or acorn in   its front paws as it cuts away the outer shell and eats the kernel. It may be seen as it scrambles from place to place seeking and storing food for the winter.   Yes, the squirrel is an interesting little creature to watch.

In all this beauty and grandeur that we enjoy in this lovely season there is on thing that brings sadness to our hearts, when the day begins to draw to a close and we hear the plaintive call of the Bob White when by chance he has escaped the hunters and calling to its mate, with no response.   Yes, the call of the last Bob White is sad indeed.   But as the shades of night gather around us we are cheered by the song of the whippoorwill, as he sings his song of melody to the many grateful listeners with a heart full of love for every race, creed or color.   We extend our best wishes.

B. C. Money
Union Cross