The Icelandic Canadian - 01.06.1945, Qupperneq 10

8
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
June 1945
Me %Vill (Me j\'eat ZJhem
In the hour of jubilation on V. E. day
there was one who did not join in.
She knew the sons of other mothers
would be coming back but not hers. In
the past she had somehow been able
to bear the strain. Those who had
not lost were so anxious for their sons—
found the burden almost as heavy. But
now their sons were coming home.
Instead of rejoicing she sat and thought
deeply. “When the other mothers’ sons
come home what can I do to make me
feel that he is near—among them, run-
ning up the front steps to embrace me.”
Another listened to the addresses on
V. E. day—the wonderful tributes paid
to those who had fought and died so
bravely. But that did not bring back
her husband. She knew that what was
being said was true. But she also knew
that when other husbands came home
Jack would not be there. She pressed the
babe closer to her breast—the babe he
had never seen. But though a comfort
that was not enough. “What can I do
to bring him home to me, to feel that
he is near when the troop train comes
in and the other wives rush down to
the station.”
The family attended the church ser-
vices. They joined in the prayers—fer-
vent prayers of thankfulness and grati-
tude, prayers for the brave lads who
had given their all. Among them was
Bill, the son, the brother. They all
knew that when the other boys joined
their families the chair at the dining-
room table, which had been empty since
he left, would not be filled. What could
they do to feel that he was near— sit-
ting there, with them—'another of many
family reunions.
They all, who have lost so much, ask
themselves, pray to God to tell them
what they can do so that they can
feel that their loved ones are near when
the others come home—near them be-
cause they are of them, laughing, crying
working with them.
One of the answers to this question
is to be found in a story told by Judy
whose brother is not coming back. She
told it in a Sunday School class where
a discussion was taking place on the
question of prayer. The whole story
appeared in “The United Churchman”
of Sackville, New Brunswick and is
part of what the editor entitled “Judy’s
Sermon.”
The fateful telegram has just been
opened. Judy tells the rest of the story
“After a little bit Daddy said awful
quiet, ‘There used to be four of us,
but there are only three now. That
means that the three of us have got
to do the work of the four of us from
now on.’
“I don’t know how long it was, but
after a while we all went back to the
dining room and sat down at the table.
Daddy bowed his head like he always
does and prayed, but this time his
prayer was different.
“ ‘O God our Father,’ he said, and I
could tell he was pretty hard hit, ‘we’ve
prayed for him a good many times, and
we’ve prayed that if we got a telegram
like this that we would have what we
needed, and now, dear Lord, we need
it. We’re depending on thee. Show us
the way an we’ll do it. Amen’
“Then we started to eat. None of us
said much, of course, for all of us
knew what the others were thinking.
“Right in the middle of the meal
Daddy shoved his chair back and started
for the telephone. I heard him ring up
somebody and pretty soon he was talk-
ing. ‘Henry,’ he said, ‘I’ve called you
up to tell you I’ll take over that club
that Leland had at the “Y”. You know
the one I mean. We just got word to-
night that our boy has been taken,
and I’m going to try to take his place.
I won’t be as good as he was, but
I’ll do my best, and you can count
on me’.
“And all the time I was thinking what