The Clergyman's Wife and Other Sketches/Our Lots in Life

by Anna Cora Mowatt

OUR LOTS IN LIFE.

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f I had only been born in some other position! If I had the advantages that my friend ——— has! If I had been endowed with such talents as so and so possesses! If I had enjoyed as uninterrupted prosperity as such and such a one! If I had been allowed as much leisure as this or that person! If I were not tormented by so many petty vexations! If I had not been bowed down by such heavy trials, ah! then, indeed, I might have been a very different being from what I am! Then I should have been full of hope and spirit, full of patience and thankfulness; then I should have accomplished great ends in life; then I should have filled a worthy place in the world; yes, then I should have been quite contented!" Is not that the daily complaint of thousands, sometimes loudly spoken, often unuttered, though deeply felt?

To murmur against our lots in life, as though they had been distributed by some blind chance, is the very commonest of the darling sins which we hug to our thankless hearts; the favorite defence of our indolence and wilfulness, our slow steps in the path of progress, our casting down of appointed fardels on the road, crying out that they are greater than we can bear. And yet, while we are sending up this heaven-upbraiding wail, how startled and shocked we would be at the assertion that we had no faith in the existence of a Supreme Being. But if we do really believe in that All-potent Ruler, can we imagine that the destinies of those creatures he fashioned to be recipients of his bounty (a "God of Love" could not have created them for any other purpose), are mere accidents, independent of his will and providence, though subject to his cognizance? He who, in his inmost soul, believes in chance, believes not in God at all.

However unequal, and apparently unjust, may seem the distribution of worldly gifts, of talents, of success, of happiness, if there be truth in the assertion that a sparrow falls not to the ground without the knowledge of our Heavenly Father, that the very hairs of our head are numbered, an immutable law of wisdom must rule over the most insignificant, as over the most important events of our lives. That law, through all its mysterious workings, can only have for its end the promotion of our eternal happiness. How, then, shall we escape the conviction that every one, during this, his probationary life, is allowed just the amount of success and prosperity, is subjected to just the degree of trial and temptation, is placed in precisely the situation, which will develop his true character, bring out his evils through exciting causes, that he may become aware of and conquer them, and call forth his noble attributes, that they may be perfected by use; and thus that he may be fitted to enjoy the highest possible felicity here and hereafter?

Different organizations need to pass through different ordeals, that the dross may be separated from the gold.

How often a temper that was very sweet and lovable, during years of smooth prosperity, when it encounters unexpected opposition, or is perplexed by harassing cares, will evince an irritability and bitterness of which it seemed incapable! But if it learn to resist the influences by which its amiability was disturbed, its sweetness returns, is redoubled, and lastingly confirmed.

How often a disposition appears very lavish of benefactions until the generous impulse is suddenly checked by the necessity of undergoing personal privation, in order to give! But if, in time, joy in bestowing is re-awakened, despite of self-sacrifice, then generosity becomes real and rock-founded.

How often a heart that is soft and loving while other hearts beat in unison with its own, while tenderness and appreciation keep its pulses warm, when exposed to neglect, misrepresentation, coldness, grows hard and frigid! But unless the ice melt again, and the tender affections, even in a chilling atmosphere, regain their ascendency, the apparent love and gentleness of that nature was spurious.

Not a trial is sent but as a regenerating and perfecting agent. From the death-like stroke of affliction, from the deep humiliation which covers us with sackcloth and ashes, from the misfortunes that strip us of all, the spirit that can be purified rises stronger and gladder, with upward-looking eyes and chastened heart.

Those terrible bereavements, the snapping of those holy links that convulse our spirits and cast us prostrate on the earth, in despair, are only permitted to give birth, through this agonizing travail, to some new and holier state; to produce some great calm growing out of the mind's tempest, when the voice of the Lord has spoken to the raging waters and the wild winds of the soul, and said, "Peace! Be still!"

But all these heavenly ends are frustrated if we destroy the possibilities of happiness implanted within us, by idle repining; if we cast away the mental and physical instruments apportioned for our use, saying, "They are blunted, they are not as noble as another man's, they are unmeet for us;" in short, if we murmur at our lots in life.

However exposed or barren, however lowly or obscure, is the corner allotted to us in our Lord's vineyard, we should not have been placed exactly in that locality, unless it were the fittest spot for our toil and advancement. We must not rebel because another seems more fortunately situated, or better prepared to bring the ground he tills to fruition; we must not complain because those who have not borne with us the heat and labor of the day, receive wages as large as ours. Unless just such work were needed for our development, it would not be placed beneath our hands; unless just such toil were required for theirs, it would not be entrusted to them. Do the work, and leave the sequel to God! When the servants who have been faithful over little, or over much, receive their rewards, the mystery of our seemingly unequal lots will assuredly be revealed to us.