JOY ALONG THE WAY; THINK ON THE THINGS YOU DO WELL

"God has given each of us the ability to do certain things well." Romans 12:6

Some friends and I were at lunch in one of those places where a whole loaf of warm bread is brought in on a slicing board, accompanied by a sharp knife.

The bread was placed before one of my friends who laughingly said, "Not I" as she slid the bread board over to the one on her right. "Oh, no!" said that one, scooting the bread on to her neighbor. "If you think I'm going to do this, you're mistaken," said the next in line. And so it went, more than half way around the table.

When it reached Pearl, she said, "Well, I can slice bread." She took the knife, sliced the bread and graciously served the rest of us.

We were all homemakers; all had raised families, dealt with slicing warm bread. So what was this? False modesty? Afraid someone could do better? Didn't want the bother?

For me it was one of those little moments in time that make a huge point. I thought of the great writers, artists, composers of music all those who had learned to do something well. What if they had been stingy, reluctant, and falsely modest with their expertise? As it is we can enjoy and feed on the works of others who have stepped forward and said, in essence, "Here is something I can do. It is yours."

Those persons who acquired a mastery in some facet of life, however small, and are willing to share it, have not they grasped the great truth of St. Paul's statement, "Neglect not the gift that is in you?"

Perhaps we should, once in a while, take inventory of things we can do well. Not necessarily better than anyone else.

Mama instilled in her children to put to use what she knew we could do well.

From our house we could see the railroad right-of-way whereas our neighbors, Stacys, couldn't. "Jeanie," Mama said one day, "You can run faster than any one else around here (in the family), so run over to Stacys and tell them their cows are on the railroad right-of-way."

I started out quickly. When I got to the place where the right-of-way gate was open and Stacys' cows had entered, I though it would be more efficient if I just drove the cows back into their pasture where they would be safe. A train was due soon. This was not a thing I could do well. When I got behind the cows that had drifted up-track and drove them down-track, they just kept going past the opened gate. I ran down-track to drive them back and the same thing happened. I knew then I'd better do what I was asked to do.

With two or more people helping, some to the south, others to the north of the cows, we got them safely back into their own territory. Not a bit too soon.

Had I been a tad slower there might have been some injured or even dead cows. "Thanks, Jeanie," said Mrs. Stacy. "You do have a gift for running fast."

As time goes by, these physical gifts fade away only to be replaced by latent ones we, perhaps, didn't know we had -- patience, appreciation, endurance of the great slowdown. Many others.

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.