It's hard work handling an efficient worker

When my son used to come home from boarding school for the December holidays, I breathed a sigh of relief. The housework after office hours had been getting us all down. My daughter had been on night duty at the hospital, my husband wasn't well, and I seemed to have so many outside activities going that even the weekends couldn't give me enough time to keep everything up to date. I made a final all-out effort to get the house clean and tidy before my son arrived. Then I asked him to take over.

Home job
He had taken holiday jobs before and had been offered one again this time, but he turned it down and worked for us instead. And he is the most incredible worker. He kept his brothers and sisters under control without effort. He made the house shine like a new pin. The beds were made with precision, the kitchen was shone up with a dry cloth after being washed with a wet cloth, and he was thorough with the vacuum cleaner and the dust cloth.
There was only one flaw: he simply stuffed anything he found lying around into the nearest drawer or cupboard.

Lost in tidiness
My house was not big enough for a family of eight, and everything had its place; not because I'm so precise but because I had no option. But a week after my son took over domestic duties, we couldn't find a thing. Whether it was a pen, a needle, a pair of scissors, a hairbrush, a brother shoe or a teapot we were searching for, it simply couldn't be found. It was simpler to go out and buy a new tin opener or a potato knife then to open those overstuffed drawers.
My husband was no help when I went to him to complain. He thought my son's hoarding instincts were hilarious. "He's a boy", he said indulgently. "What do you expect?"

Things couldn't go on
Much though I enjoyed my rest, things couldn't go on like this. My son had an appointment in Pietersburg for December 16th that year, and I laid my plans. The 16th being a holiday, I took the 15th and 17th off from work as well, donned my apron, and got to work.
On the morning of the 15th I saw my son off at the station. As we said goodbye to each other, we reached a peak of mutual affection we had seldom felt since the time when he was small and told my sister:
"Auntie, I'm happy for a mom."

Help at hand
He was off, and I thought of how much I loved him, drove home, and got stuck into the house. Catherine Nicolette was off work, and she started at the other end. Holding up the detachable bristle part of my hairbrush, I said to her: "Won't we look well groomed for Christmas?" Whereupon she produced the nail scissors from the piano stool.
I had this oak furniture I would never allow anyone to touch with furniture polish, preferring to settle for elbow grease. But after my son's cavalier treatment of my dining room suite, I was forced to buy some.

Order restored
By late afternoon, order had been restored to the cupboards. My hair rollers were back in their vanity case; needle and cotton reposed in the sewing box; Catherine's peep-toe shoes had been triumphantly rescued from under a pair of heavy boots in the monk's bench in the boys' room, and she was making the furniture shine like the sun.
"This stuff's marvellous", she said, holding up the tin like the woman in the television commercial. "You must always use it, then people will think you know what's potting."

Unexpected return
I was still pondering the obscurity of this remark when my son was brought in by his brothers and sisters, whom we had banned to the garden for the duration of our cleaning spree.
"What on earth are you doing here?" my daughter demanded.
"Well, I live here", he countered, "and I hope you're not turning me out. I've carried this case back all the way from the station."
It turned out that he had fallen asleep on the train. No one had told him that he was to change to the Johannesburg train at Henneman, so when he opened his eyes he found himself back in Welkom.

The reason why
He had got out of the train uncomprehendingly, then had to jump on again as it set off to Allanridge with his luggage. Having spent several hours in Allanridge, he was again taken back to Welkom, from where he walked all the way home with his suitcase. 
And that was the reason why he did not attend the ordination of the priest on December 16. Our family offered our belated congratulations in writing, which my son would have given if only our excellent organisation had not blown up into our faces...

*Photograph taken by Catherine Nicolette of the beautiful Free State in South Africa..
 Please feel free to use photo copyright free for any worthy purpose

Loneliness hid a blessing

Luky;
When I was a teenager at boarding school, I was very unpopular and had no friends. At school this is a terrible humiliation. You want to be like everybody else. Everyone else seems to have someone to talk to and laugh with, and you tend to get the feeling all eyes are on you. You wish you could shrink into the wall.
"If everyone dislikes me, I must be a terrible person", you finally admit to yourself. I found myself praying that on Sunday one of the girls would be sick so that I could partner her friend on the long walk to Naval Hill.

Now I know why
In those days I never believed that the time would come when I'd see a good reason for my loneliness, but now I have. You see, being unwanted by everyone was the cause of my wandering into the church every day, and reading the pamphlets on the stand at the back. The riches I gleaned there have upheld me through all subsequent sorrows and trials. Besides, once I got the message God wanted to convey to me, my luck changed. I got my husband and children, and lots of friends too.

I think the main thing I learned from the pamphlet, was to say the rosary every day. This has been the key to my tranquillity through trials which otherwise might have destroyed me. The Archconfraternity of the Rosary had some very eloquent pamphlets there. Make a commitment to say five decades of the rosary three times weekly, they urged. Fill in your name on the dotted line and send it to us.

At the time I must have been saying more than fifteen decades per week. We said five daily with the nuns for a start, but I didn't feel that counted. For about four months I said those rosary prayers on my own. Then I took a deep breath, filled in the pledge card and sent it to the confraternity.

Memorable man
I was in standard nine when Fr Patrick Peyton came to school. He was a holy man. Although everybody in South Africa thronged to him as they had done in other continents, he breathed humility. When I shook hands with him, I had the feeling I never wanted to wash my hand again.

I have always been attracted to the Irish. The nuns at school were Irish, and they were so good to me. So I was all ears when Fr Peyton told us about the strength of Irish family life.

The family that prays together, stays together
He told us of his travels. "People were so much better off than those in Ireland. They all seemed to have a little house and a little car. When I compared their affluence to the poverty of the people back at home, I thought they must be very happy." Fr Peyton further told us that he found people of affluence had their own sorrows, and that the rate of family breakup was high. He started wondering why, and found that the strength of the Irish was that they prayed together.
"That is when I first felt the need to propagate my slogan: 
The family that prays together, stays together."

Misfortune brought us back to prayer
Father Peyton was eloquent, and he convinced me. I started saying the rosary with my husband during the six months of our courtship, and we said it daily with our children when they were still at home.
There was a bad patch in the sixties when we tried not saying the ten Hail Mary's and instead spent two minutes in silence, pondering on each mystery. My husband soon became fed up with that, and we shelved the rosary for two years - until we had some new misfortune. This brought us back to our knees.

Blessings and miracles
If I told you the blessings and miracles that have happened to us, but I won't even try. Just start saying the rosary daily in your own family, and the miracles will start happening to you. Why not make a commitment! Sign your name on the dotted line! Pray daily with your family or community. It will bring you only happiness and blessings untold.