The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 984, November 5, 1898Various
General
The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 984, November 5, 1898
Various
Children's literature -- Periodicals
"Did I see my own son before he sailed? you ask. No--I was too late,
but the telegraph took him my farewell and blessing, and we have had
many happy meetings and hopeful partings since then."
My dear old friend's earthly labours have long been ended; but, as I
think of him, I seem to see his face shining with glad thankfulness,
as he recalled this opportunity of usefulness given him by God and
so happily utilised, though the delay in another sense cost him a
disappointment.
Had my friend spent the time in grumbling at the delay, instead of
thinking how it could be turned to good account, how different would
have been the result! Or, if he had kept sullenly aloof, or answered
his young neighbour's remark curtly, thus repelling his half-offer
of confidence, the current of a life would have set in the wrong
direction, and the chances of doing and receiving good would have been
lost for ever.
Opportunity comes under so many forms, means so much, and is so often
lost.
We live, it may be, near places of beauty and interest. Because we are
near, we think we can visit them at any time, but we never see them at
all. We have opportunities of obtaining useful information, of gaining
valuable experiences and increasing our stores of knowledge. We put off
availing ourselves of them until some unknown future time, which never
comes.
But the time does come to most of us when we want just the knowledge
or experience that we might have had if we had utilised past
opportunities, and then, we either gain it at much greater cost of time
and trouble, or we suffer for the want of it, to say nothing of the
additional pang of self-reproach which comes with the need.
Money frittered away in vanity and folly means the loss of chances
for making others happy and lifting the burdens from overweighted
shoulders. Lost opportunities for giving pleasure to those we love are
brought home to us with a terrible sting afterwards.
Do we ever lose a relative or beloved friend without feeling our
sorrow intensified by the thought of some little wish neglected, some
opportunity for giving pleasure lost?
It is generally the little ones that are missed, when they concern
those we dearly love. Great opportunities are seldom ignored. But when
it is too late and we feel, oh, so sadly, that we might have availed
ourselves of the lesser ones also, these, however trifling, assume an
importance not realised until, with the sense of omission, comes the
thought that they are lost for ever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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