Musings of a Snickerdoodle

Excerpt from a letter written bv Hudson Taylor, in China at the time, to a friend in England.  Taylor's wife and new-born son Noel had just died(their oldest son, Samuel, died earlier that year). Their second youngest child was staying with friends elsewhere in China and the other children had been sent to England not long before this event:   It is Sunday evening.  I am writing from Mr. White's bungalow.  The cool air, the mellow, autumnal beauty of the scene, the magnificent Yangtze - with Silver Island, beautifully wooded, reposing, as it were, on its bosom - combine to make one feel as if it were a vision of dreamland rather than actual reality.  And my feelings accord.  But a few months ago my home was full, now so silent and lonely - Samuel, Noel, my precious wife, with Jesus; the elder children far, far away, and even little T'ien-pao in Yang-chow.  Often, of late years, has duty called me from my loved ones, but I have returned, and s...

An ordinary life of faith.  Not very exciting sounding, is it? Ordinary...what is good about the ordinary? What purpose can be found in it? The most important purpose. God's. Mrs. Prentiss wrote books, that was exceptional. But for the most part, her life was that of a Christian housewife's: cooking, taking care of the house, children, helping people in need. She did have several of her children die in childhood/infancy, but a lot of people did in her day. She always seems to be visiting a deathbed or potential deathbed, but her age was different from ours, people were dying all of the time. Nowadays, going to a funeral is the exception, not the rule. Ironically, a life of faith in ordinary circumstances is just as, if not more, extraordinary as a person who exercised faith in extraordinary circumstances. In a letter to a friend, Mrs. Prentiss wrote: "...As to domestic cares, you know Mrs. Stowe has written a beautiful little tract on this s...