The Random Thoughts of Henry Holloway
A letter came to me a couple of weeks ago. It was a reply to one I had sent to a friend thanking him for a service he had done for me. He said, ‘It is not often that one receives words of appreciation’. Strangely enough, some time before I had a letter with a similar remark in it. We do tend to take things for granted, don’t we?
There were two boys in a room with their mother one day. Geoffrey, the younger, was in particularly bad humour. His mother was doing her best to get him to do his homework. All her efforts were met with stubbornness and bad temper. Eventually she gave it up and left the room. Then the elder lad took a hand. By dint of coaxing and cajolery he managed to get Geoffrey to finish his work. Then he said to Geoffrey, ‘Don’t you think you were rather beastly with mum just now? Think of all she does for us every day, without a word.’ Young Geoffrey, who by this time was probably feeling a bit ashamed of himself, burst out with, ‘Well, it’s her trade.’
What about the home? Probably we need a little bit of the grace of appreciation there more than anywhere else. Tell me, Dad, when did you last say a wee word to the wife? There’s breakfast, dinner and tea and probably a wee drop of tea before bed; there’s the washing to do the youngsters to be clothed and got out to school; the house to be kept tidy. And you expect the wife to look neat and tidy on the odd occasions when you take her out.
By the way, have you heard the one about the man who opened the front door of his house one evening and noticed the smell of gas? He struck a match to find the leak. The neighbours said it was the first time they had ever seen the husband and wife going out together.
Joking apart, boys, a wee word of appreciation, or an evening out together with a box of chocolates thrown in would work wonders. I’ve got my five bob ready when my wife reads this. There’s Dad too. He needs a wee word of appreciation now and again. I’m thinking of the average man who has got to stick at the work all day and comes home a bit tired and fed up. But I don’t think Dad wants a speech about it. He’d be quite happy if he came home and found the wife all spruced up and looking younger than ever - it can be done, you know - and his slippers warming by the fire, and an unexpected hug. It is just the grace of appreciation.
There’s an old story now about a man who suddenly made up his mind to express a bit of appreciation to his wife. He came down in the morning singing a lilty tune, complimented his wife on the lovely breakfast, went off happily to work, came home in the evening and threw his arms round his wife and kissed her. She suddenly burst into tears.
‘What on earth’s wrong?’ said he. ‘You acted awful strange this morning’ said she, ‘and now you’ve come home drunk.’ All the same, I’d chance it if I were you. Long ago 10 men were cured of a terrible disease. Only one of them came back to give thanks. Jesus said, ‘But where are the nine?’ Don’t let’s be amongst the unthankful. Somebody once said, ‘Joy is the grace we say to God.’
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