Helping Jesus

Amanda and Belinda were twelve-year-old girls who lived next door to each other. They had gone to Kindergarten together, then to primary school, and now both were in high school. Outside school hours they were usually together as well, although in the last couple of years their interests had not always been the same.

This was one of those occasions. It was Sunday morning and old Mr. Jackson, who had recently moved into the house across the road, had approached their parents to see if the girls would mind sitting with his invalid wife that afternoon. He rarely left her for more than an hour, but there was a chance for him to go out with some friends and his wife encouraged him to go.

“It’s just that she has a heart condition and needs someone available to give her medication and phone the doctor if she should have a sudden attack,” he had explained to Belinda’s mother.

“Well,” she replied, “It’s up to the girls. I’ll ask them.”
So now the girls were in Belinda’s bedroom discussing the question. Amanda was quite definite. “No, thanks. For one thing, I can’t stand being in smelly bedrooms with old ducks who keep telling you the same boring stories. For another, the boys are going to the beach this afternoon and I’ve promised to be there.”

Belinda wasn’t sure. She certainly wanted to go to the beach too, but at the same time… “Remember what Pastor Smith said at church yesterday, Amanda? He preached from Isaiah 58:7, “Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out into thy house? When thou seest the naked, that thou cover him;” Also Jesus told His disciples to, “heal the sick, cleanse lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received, freely give.” Mat. 10:8 “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Sometimes we have to deny ourselves for others. That was a good sermon he preached.”

”Yes I remember that, but this is the first day of summer. Maybe one of our parents can go and be with her,” Amanda continued trying to persuade her friend.

“No, they asked us, not our parents and I suppose it is not very much to ask,” continued Belinda, “old Mr. Jackson hardly ever gets out for an afternoon. I think I’d like to help, really. That is what Jesus would want me to do. But you don’t have to, Amanda, I am sure I will be okay. There is really only need for one of us to be there.” “The trouble with you, Belinda,” said her friend, “is that you are too soft-hearted, or maybe it’s soft-headed! Don’t you see that if we agree this time, it will end up with Mr. Jackson wanting to go out every Sunday afternoon!” She moved crossly to the door and turned back with her hand on the knob. “Look at it this way. Old Mrs. Jackson has had her life – she is about eighty-two – so why should she stop us having ours? This is the first good beach day we’ve had for weeks, and I’m not going to miss it for anybody!”

As Amanda stormed out of the room, Belinda felt terrible. She hated quarrelling with her friend, and she did want to go to the beach, but she couldn’t help putting herself in the place of old Mrs. Jackson. She remembered Jesus word, “And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.” Luke 6:31. “Amanda will be an old duck, too, one day,” she said to herself, smiling at the thought. “And I wouldn’t like to be the one who has to sit with her!” She giggled as she pictured Amanda in a shawl with a walking stick and a wizened-up face. “I bet she’ll be hard to get on with!” She sighed. “Mrs. Jackson might be, too – but I’ll sit with her.”

So, on that sunny Sunday afternoon, Amanda set off for the beach and Belinda made her way across the road to the home of the old Jackson couple.

The first thing she discovered was that she was not required to sit in a smelly bedroom. The room was cool and airy, with a quiet air-conditioner making it an attractive retreat from the heat outside. It was tastefully decorated and the walls featured a series of watercolour pictures, which she discovered had been painted by Mrs. Jackson herself.

The lady was a real surprise! “Come in, my dear,” she had called brightly when Belinda knocked at the open front door. Having only seen her briefly beforehand as she was wheeled into the house from an ambulance the day they arrived, Belinda had always imagined her lying prone in a bed staring at the wall. But here she was, sitting up in her chair, wearing a lovely pink dress, busily engaged in some interesting-looking craftwork on the low table beside her. As Belinda entered the room, she put down her work, pointed to another chair by the door and said briskly, “Bring that up close -Belinda, isn’t it? Nice name. Come up near me so we can talk.” Here we go, thought Belinda. The boring stories begin.

But Mrs. Jackson wanted to know all about Belinda’s activities and interests and plans for the future. Before she knew it, almost an hour was gone and it had been Belinda who did most of the talking. Suddenly she stopped and said, “Sorry Mrs. Jackson, I hope I’m not boring you with all these stories!”

The old lady laughed. “I never find stories about other people boring – until the third time around!” When Belinda looked embarrassed, Mrs. Jackson nodded her head, “I know – old people keep telling the same stories. They don’t mean to. It’s just that while they never forget the stories, they forget who they’ve told them to. I do it myself.”
“I’d really like to hear some of your stories, Mrs. Jackson. I’d really like to know what it was like when you were my age.”
The old lady looked out the window. “When I was your age..” she said slowly. “Let me think.” She turned back to Belinda. “For one thing – we dressed differently. We wore long dresses every day, even while doing house work and garden work.”

Gradually the old woman began to paint a picture of her life in her youth, which Belinda found fascinating. She had been twelve years old when World War I ended in 1918. “I was the eldest of five children. My father was one of those who did not come back.” She was silent for a moment or two and Belinda became very aware of the hum of the air-conditioner. “So, as soon as I turned fourteen, I had to go to work to help my mother bring up the younger ones.”

“What sort of work?” asked Belinda.
“Housework,” the old lady replied. “There was no washing machines or vacuum cleaners or dishwashers or food mixers, or anything like that. Everything had to be done by hand: so families with any money at all used to get a girl to help.”

Suddenly the old lady grasped the arms of her chair and sat up straighter. “Talking about modern inventions – I nearly forgot. Out in the fridge there is some apple juice and some nice biscuits. I was expecting two of you so there is plenty there.”

Belinda blushed, “Yes, well, Amanda had promised to go somewhere else so I came on my own.”

Mrs. Jackson winked. “All the more for us!”
A few minutes later a tray was set aside and Mrs. Jackson went on with her story. By the time she was eighteen, her younger brothers were working, so she decided to become a nurse.

“I sometimes think I’d like to be a nurse,” said Belinda. “Could you tell me what it’s like?”
“Well,” chuckled the old lady. “I think it’s a bit different now from when I began. But, in a way, it is still a matter of caring about people and wanting to help them. That’s what makes a real nurse.”

Belinda put her chin in her hands. “Amanda thinks nursing would be boring. She wants to be something exciting like an air hostess or a model.”

That old lady sighed. “I suppose it depends on what you mean by exciting. I had plenty of excitement when I was on a troopship during World War II. We were torpedoed and I spent three days on a life raft before we were picked up. It was exciting all right – but I don’t recommend it.”

Belinda stared. It had never occurred to her that this old lady in a quiet suburban street could have been involved in such happenings. She suddenly realised that Mrs. Jackson was still talking. “The real excitement of nursing is the same as any other job where you are helping people.

It’s seeing them overcome their problems and knowing that you have had a part in it. That’s what makes life worthwhile.” The old woman and the girl shared moments of silence.

Meanwhile, down at the beach, Amanda was having problems. There had been so few hot days that this was her first opportunity for a real sunbake. Now she could feel the beginnings of a bad dose of sunburn.

But even apart from the sunburn, for some reason she couldn’t get interested in the usual fun and games of the group. “Come on, Amanda, what’s the matter with you?” shouted Julie. “We’re going for another swim.” The group made for the water in a rush. Amanda lay on her stomach with her head cradled in her arms and pretended to be asleep. Suddenly two of the boys, who had sneaked quietly behind her, grabbed her by the hands and feet, carried her to the water’s edge and threw her in.

Usually she enjoyed such attention, but today it just seemed to make her angry and she let go with a few words, which were intended to make them wither up and wilt. But they just looked at one another in mock surprise and said, “Touchy, isn’t she?” then in chorus they began to sing, “What’s the matter with Amanda? What’s the matter with Amanda?”

“Oh, be quiet,” she shouted. “I’m going home,” And go home she did, without another word.

When the bus dropped Amanda off at the end of the street, Belinda was just coming out of the Jacksons’ gate on her way home. She walked towards the bus stop to meet her friend, anxious to tell her about her afternoon and enquire about the beach outing. Amanda was still metres away when Belinda realized that there was something wrong.

“What’s the matter, Amanda?” she asked anxiously.
Unfortunately the friendly question reminded Amanda of the taunting chorus of the boys, which didn’t help the bad mood she was in. “Everything,” she replied crossly. “I’ve had a rotten afternoon.” They walked in silence until they reached Amanda’s house.

Then Belinda said, “Let’s sit on the fence a minute while you tell me what went wrong.” Amanda dropped her beach bag on the grass and sat gingerly on the bricks. “You got sunburnt,” said Belinda. “Did the others turn up?”

“Yes. But for some reason I felt bad about this afternoon from the moment I left home. I suppose I should have come with you. Was it terrible?”

Belinda began to laugh. “It was great – one of the most interesting afternoons I’ve ever had! Did you know that Mrs. Jackson was once torpedoed and spent three days and nights on a life raft in the Atlantic?”

Amanda stared. “That little old duck? I don’t believe it.”
“The point is,” said Belinda, “She wasn’t always old. She was once a matron of a hospital, and senior sister on a troopship during the war, and a whole lot of other things.”
“And I suppose, she tried to talk you into being a nurse too.”

“Actually,” said Belinda slowly, “She told me a lot of bad things about it. But she said that if I wanted to give my life to helping other people, nursing was a good way to do it.”
“Well,” said Amanda, “I don’t think it would be my way.”

“No,” replied Belinda thoughtfully. “But according to Mrs. Jackson, it’s not so much what we do as why we do it. She is a Christian too and she said that Jesus taught that when we are helping people who are sick, or hungry, or lonely or whatever, we are helping Him. Exactly like Pastor Smith said yesterday. When she was young she memorised a saying of Jesus. It’s something like this: ‘if you want to keep your life, you’ll lose it, but if you are willing to lose your life for my sake you shall save it.’ ”

“She is right”, Amanda said. “If you keep it you lose it, but if you lose it you keep it.” she mused. “You know this may not be as silly as it sounds. When you come to think of it, that’s what happened this afternoon. I tried to keep my happiness to myself, but I lost it. You tried to give happiness away and you found it. If we all try to give our happiness to others, we will be more happy ourselves.”

“For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it.” Luke 9:24. “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” Mark 8:36