The Mitford Bedside Companion Read online

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 5 (Hebrews 4:16)

  HE HAD ALREADY had morning prayer and studied the challenging message of Luke 12: “Therefore, I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat, nor about your body, what you shall put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.

  “Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds?”

  There was not one man in a thousand who considered these words more than poetical vapor, he thought as he dressed. Don’t be anxious? Most mortals considered anxiety, and plenty of it, an absolute requirement for getting the job done. Yet, over and over again, the believer was cautioned to abandon anxiety, and look only to God.

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 7 (Luke 12:22–24)

  AS BARNABAS CAME bounding toward her in a frenzy of delight, Puny recited in a loud voice one of the few Scriptures she’d ever committed to memory:

  “‘And this is his commandment, that we should believe on the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and love one another’!”

  Barnabas sprawled at her feet and sighed.

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 7 (I John 3:23)

  BARNABAS SEEMED TO sail through the air, clearing the steps entirely and landing only inches from a white cat that was streaking across the yard.

  “‘Blessed be the Lord, who daily loads us with benefits’!” he shouted from a psalm as he raced toward the hedge.

  Barnabas, however, could hear nothing above the din of an old-fashioned cat and dog fight.

  Father Tim peered into the yard where the humiliated cat was racing up a hemlock tree. “Barnabas!” he yelled.

  Barnabas stood at the foot of the tree, his thick fur bristling, filling the night with a bark that seemed to carry to the monument and echo back along the storefronts.

  “‘Be filled with the spirit!’” he shouted. “‘Speak to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs!’” He never knew which Scripture would float to the surface in such emergencies.

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 9 (Psalm 68:19; Ephesians 5:19)

  “WHY HAVEN’T YOU told me about this woman?” Hoppy wanted to know, as they stood outside Andrew’s rear office and waited for the rest room.

  “What was there to tell?”

  “That she’s lovely, new in town, goes to Lord’s Chapel, I don’t know. I’m walking down the hall last week, and I see this angel sitting by Pearly’s bed, reading from the Psalms. I’ll never forget it. ‘Thou art my hiding place and my shield. I hope in thy word,’ she said. It struck me to the very marrow.”

  And no wonder, thought the rector, whose own marrow had been struck by the depth of Olivia Davenport’s feeling.

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 10 (Psalm 119:114)

  HE CAUTIOUSLY OPENED the door and peered into a minuscule but inviting kitchen.

  A broiling pan sat on the stove, containing a blackened roast. Next to it, a pot had boiled over, and a tray of unbaked rolls sat disconsolately on the countertop. “Hello!” he called.

  A white cat leaped onto the breakfast table, looked at him curiously, and began cleaning her paws. “Violet, I presume!” He had never been fond of cats.

  He heard her coming down the stairs, then she appeared at the kitchen door, her eyes red from crying.

  “I’ve done it again,” she said sniffing. “I can never get it right. I sat down at my drawing table for just one minute. One minute! An hour later, I looked up, and the rice had boiled over and the roast had burned, and well, there you have it.”

  “‘Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might’!” he quoted cheerfully from Ecclesiastes. “You must have been doing something you liked.”

  She sighed. “I was drawing moles.”

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 10 (Ecclesiastes 9:10)

  A SCRIPTURE FROM the Psalms came to him: “I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you shall go. I will guide you with my eye.”

  He felt the peace of that promise, and went upstairs.

  He knocked, but there was no answer. “Dooley?”

  Silence. Of course, there would be silence.

  He opened the door.

  Dooley sat on the side of the bed, sobbing. His whole body seemed given to grief, frustration, and rage.

  My heart, thought the rector, feeling it wrench with sorrow. I have never had so many sensations of the heart in one short span of time.

  He sat down beside Dooley Barlowe and held him. He held him tightly, as if to say, Hang on, hang on. I won’t let go.

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 16 (Psalm 32:8)

  HE LOOKED AROUND her small studio. Every inch of wall space was covered with some cheerful drawing or watercolor, or picture cut from a magazine. She had lettered a Scripture from the sixteenth chapter of Proverbs that was push-pinned over her drawing table: “Commit thy works unto the Lord and thy thoughts shall be established.”

  “That,” he said, “is a commendable way to do it.”

  “For me, it’s the only way. I don’t work at all without committing it to God first. I’ve done it the other way, and giving it to Him makes all the difference.”

  Period! The rector smiled. He liked Cynthia’s practical relationship with God. It had none of the boldness of Olivia Davenport’s glorious faith. It was simple and easy. Cynthia, it appeared, was definitely down-to-earth about heavenly things.

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 17 (Proverbs 16:3)

  “MY MOTHER, BRIMMING with passion, with love for God and for people—my father, remote, arrogant, handsome, disliked. I remember what my uncle Gus once said: ‘A high-falutin’, half-frozen Episcopalian and a hidebound, Bible-totin’ Baptist. The North Pole and the South Pole, under the same roof!’ Why did they marry? I believe my mother saw in him something tender and felt she could change him.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Cynthia, with feeling.

  “At the age of ten or so, I had learned one of the most crucial verses on marriage.” He laughed, remembering his mother’s frequent allusion to it. “‘Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers…for what communion hath light with darkness?’ My father did have a dark spirit, and her brightness seemed to drive him even further into the ‘darkness.’”

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 17 (II Corinthians 6:14)

  “WHAT ELSE DO you like about me?” she asked, unashamedly licking the sauce off her spoon.

  “Now, Cynthia…” He felt a mild panic.

  “Oh, just say! And then I’ll tell you what I like about you….”

  “‘These are the things that ye shall do,’” he quoted from the book of Zechariah. “‘Speak every man truth to his neighbor.’”

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 17 (Zechariah 9:16)

  “THE NAME OF the house, Miss Sadie, is…Winterpast.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. “Winterpast,” she repeated slowly. “Why, that’s a lovely name.”

  “Willard left a further inscription for you, which leads us to the Song of Solomon.” He put his reading glasses on, turned the pages, and read:

  “‘For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds has come.’”

  Miss Sadie folded her hands in her lap, and looked away. The only sound was, in fact, the singing of birds. She was silent for a while, then she spoke. “It’s good to have hope. I’m so glad Willard had hope.”

  “Many waters, Miss Sadie, cannot quench love. Neither can the floods drown it. That, too, is from the Song.”

  She looked at him with a small light in her eyes.

  “So be it,” she said.

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 21 (Song of Solomon 2:11–12; Solomon 8:7)

  “NOW, I WANT to exercise my authority as your bishop and ask you to do something else. I want you to go away for two months.”

  “But there’s the boy, and—”

  “I’m not interested in the boy, or in any other conditi
on or circumstance that presently exists in your life. That sounds cold and hard, but it’s neither. You are my interest, not because you’re my friend, but because you’re exceedingly valuable to this diocese, and I very much want to keep it that way.

  “You’ve always known how to take care of everybody and everything but yourself. I can say that freely because I’m afflicted with the identical weakness, and, trust me, it is a weakness. I’m blessed with a wife who monitors me, but you have no monitor. If you’re going to extend your life in the body of Christ, Timothy, you must act at once to restore, to revive, to refresh your energies.

  “You tell me you’ve gone stale, but the sound health of your parish disproves it. ‘Wherefore, by their fruits ye shall know them,’ Christ said. That’s how I know you, my friend, by your fruits. You haven’t let Him down, you haven’t let me down, and you haven’t let your parish down. But you’ve been letting yourself down—shamefully.”

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 22 (Matthew 7:20)

  HOMELESS SAT AT the kitchen counter while the rector brewed a pot of coffee and an exhausted Barnabas lay sleeping by his food bowl at the door.

  “It’s a treat to have you in my kitchen, for a change,” he told his friend from the creek. “You know, you’ve brought me something I thought I’d never find again.”

  “That brings up m’ own point,” said Homeless. “Somethin’ I lost has been found, too.”

  “And what’s that?” asked the rector, leaning against the sink.

  “My faith. It looks like it’s come back. An’ t’ tell th’ truth, it’s a whole lot stronger than it was when it left.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. You don’t know how glad.”

  “Well, I took down th’ New Testament you brought me, an’ I said, I b’lieve I’ll just crack this open f’r a minute—I knew I didn’t want t’ go gettin’ no religion out of it, nossir.

  “So I baited me a hook and I put it on m’ fishin’ line and went ’n’ sat on th’ creek bank, an’ done somethin’ I hadn’t done since I was a boy—I tied th’ line on m’ big toe. You know, that makes sense, you don’t have t’ mess with a pole. That way, when you get a bite, you know it, and all y’ have t’ do is just pull ’er in. Time savin’!

  “So I was settin’ there an’ I commenced t’ read, and first thing you know, I was dead into it. I’d catch me a crappie, take it off th’ hook, bait up again, and go back t’ readin’. I done that all day, and by th’ time I’d fried me some fish and eat a good dinner, it come to me plain as day that m’ faith was back. God Almighty had put his hand on me again after all these years. You know what I figure?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I figure what can y’ lose? Jesus said, ‘Verily, I say unto you, he that believeth on me hath everlasting life.’”

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 23 (John 6:47)

  “IN THE THIRTY-SECOND Psalm, He says, ‘I will instruct you, Dooley, and teach you in the way which you should go. I will guide you with my eye.’”

  “Did he put my name in like ’at?”

  “He did. Just like He put my name in, and the Owens’ name, and Cynthia’s name. The Bible speaks to everyone who trusts Him.”

  At Home in Mitford, Ch. 24 (Psalm 32:8)

  THE VICTIM DODGED toward his parked Buick and crashed onto the hood with his elbow. “‘Sing and make music in your hearts,’” he recited loudly from a psalm, “‘always giving thanks to the Father for everything’!”

  Barnabas sat down at once and gazed at him, mopping the garage floor with his tail.

  His dog was the only living creature he knew who was unfailingly disciplined by the hearing of the Word.

  A Light in the Window, Ch. 1 (Psalm 147:7)

  WAS THIS A dream? No, it was a nightmare, for Barnabas was now licking a perfect stranger—a visitor, no less—on the right ear.

  “‘Let love be genuine,’” said the lay reader, carrying on with the Scripture reading, “‘hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good…’”

  How had he forgotten to close the garage door? He had never forgotten to close the garage door. He could hear laughter breaking out like measles.

  “‘…outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit….’”

  Barnabas looked toward the lectern, then gave a sigh and lay down, his head on the visitor’s foot. The man wiped his glasses and his ear with a handkerchief and, smiling broadly, gave his rapt attention to the remainder of the reading from Romans.

  “‘Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” says the Lord.’”

  That his dog stood for the Nicene Creed and again for the dismissal hymn was, he concluded, something to marvel at.

  * * *

  And then came the day when I found myself praying for Buck Leeper. I said to myself, “Child, you are working way too hard.”

  —Jan

  * * *

  A Light in the Window, Ch. 14 (Romans 12:9–19)

  TOMMY HAD LAUGHED today. It wasn’t downright hilarity, by any means, but it had been reviving to hear.

  The proverb had said, “Laughter doeth good like a medicine.” Clearly, that was true for the one who heard it, as well as for the one doing the laughing.

  He wanted to hear Tommy laugh again and again and see Dooley Barlowe laughing with him.

  If he really put his mind to it, perhaps he could think of something funny to do.

  Cynthia! There was a brilliant thought. She was funny without even trying to be. He would ask her what to do.

  A Light in the Window, Ch. 18 (Proverbs 22:14)

  “WE INTEND TO demonstrate to each and every member present what we should all do when we hear His Word…which is to let it have its way with our hearts.”

  “Amen!” somebody said. J.C. sank to his knees in the grass and looked through the lens of his camera. Something interesting was bound to happen with this deal.

  At that moment, Cynthia Coppersmith rose from her front-row seat, holding what appeared to be a large handbag. As she held it aloft for all to see, Violet’s white head emerged. Violet perched there, staring coolly at the crowd.

  “That cat is in books at the library,” someone said.

  Keeping a safe distance, Cynthia turned around and let Barnabas have a look. Violet peered down at him with stunning disdain.

  Barnabas nearly toppled the rector as he lunged toward the offending handbag, which Cynthia handed off to Dooley.

  His booming bark carried beyond the monument, all the way to Lew Boyd’s Esso, and the force of his indignation communicated to every expectant onlooker.

  The rector spoke with his full pulpit voice. “‘For brethren, ye have been called unto liberty, only use not liberty for an occasion to the flesh…’”

  Barnabas hesitated. His ears stood straight up. He relaxed on the leash.

  “‘…but by love serve one another.’”

  The black dog sighed and sprawled on the grass.

  “‘For all the law is fulfilled in one word: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.’”

  Barnabas didn’t move but raised his eyes and looked dolefully at the front row. Not knowing what else to do, the rector bowed. The crowd applauded heartily.

  “A fine passage from Galatians five-thirteen and fourteen!” said the jolly new preacher from First Baptist.

  A Light in the Window, Ch. 21 (Galatians 5:13–14)

  HE DESPISED LOSING sleep over any issue. Broad daylight was the time for fretting and wrestling—if it had to be done at all. “Don’t worry about anything,” Paul had written to the church at Philippi, “but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, make your requests known unto God. And the peace that passes all understanding will fill your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

  T
hese High, Green Hills, Ch. 4 (Philippians 4:6–7)

  “THEN, WE PREACHED that noble verse from Revelation that makes me shiver to hear it—‘Behold, I stand at the door and knock! If any man hears my voice and opens the door, I’ll come in to him, and will sup with him and he with me.’

  “I said the Lord Jesus will knock and keep knocking ’til you let Him come in and make you a new creature. He’ll never break down the door. Nossir, the Lord is a gentleman. He waits to be invited.”

  These High, Green Hills, Ch. 4 (Revelation 4:20)

  “SOME PEOPLE,” said Scott, “ask if I prayed while she was in that coma. Once in a while, I’d say something like ‘God, I’m really mad at You, but I still believe You’re God and You can do anything You want to, and I want You to heal Granma. Period.’”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I think He healed Granma, just like I asked Him to. I think He did it with love, and He used us to help. He could have used anybody—a nurse, an old friend, maybe—but it was us, and I’m grateful.

  “I came away from that time in my life with a special sense of a couple of verses in second Corinthians:

  “‘For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.’

  “In my ministry as a chaplain, I try to look for the things which aren’t seen.”

  These High, Green Hills, Ch. 14 (II Corinthians 4:17–18)

  “FOR GOD HAS not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind,” he read aloud from Paul’s second letter to Timothy.

  He remembered Katherine’s passionate counsel on the phone last year before he proposed to Cynthia. He had been sorely afraid of letting go, and Katherine had reminded him in no uncertain terms where fear comes from. If, she reasoned, it doesn’t come from God, there’s only one other source to consider. “Teds,” she said, “fear is of the Enemy.” And she was right.