Sunday evening, and Daddy and I sit before the flickering fire. The children are snug in bed and all the house is still. A few minutes ago the air was filled with happy talk and laughter, as we had our cocoa and cinnamon toast before the fire. And I sit wondering how many of you Householders are at this hour meditating and resting with your children put away and your husband by your side in those same wordless communication.
It has been a day of excitement and joy. For last night at midnight my own dear family arrived to spend an unexpected few hours with use. We were in bed when two cars turned in the lane with a merry tootling of horns and flashing of spotlights on the house. Some one called, "Any room for tourists?" And Dady answered back, "No, we have a full house now!" Then the crowd laughed uproariously, and out of the cars piled mother and father and sisters and brother and babies, 10 in all. They had brought camp cots with them. They had started on the spur of the moment, for the baby sister and her husband were only home for a week, and rain threatened until late afternoon. Such hilarity, such hugging and kissing! It was a long time before all the new babies had been inspected and the house settled itself to slumber. There were cots in the alcove and living room, and all the five bedrooms were filled. Two of the men slept in a cot in the car. The six little grandchildren, who had been scattered from South Dakota to Ohio, were under one roof for the first time. They ranged from 8-year-old Ruth to the newest baby, Phyllis, aged one month.
Proud Family!
What time the family did not talk about and admire the new house, they talked about and admired the Household department. Of course, they are proud as Punch to have a member of the family in charge. The office was admired and the scrapbook was pored over. Constantly I heard the exclamation, "What a wonderful spirit!" What a different sort of Household department!"
Now that the family has gone and we are quiet again, I sit thinking about all of you, realizing what a tremendous responsibility I have in this job--wondering how I can serve you best. The clerical part, the handling of mail, the filing of records, is merely a professional job. There is nothing personal about it. But there is nothing professional in the editorials I write to you. They are my personal contribution to our Household, in return for the gifts I have had from you and Faith. "Freely ye have received; feely give."
What You Make It
I want to make the Household just what you want it most to be. From your letters it seems to me that you do not expect me to be a research agent, or a home demonstrator, or an encyclopedia. You do not expect me to know everything nor to answer all inquiries. You know that I am only one of you. You want me to put you in touch with one another. You want me to tell you about my life, not because it is different from yours, but because it is like yours. You want some one to cheer you when you are in the valley of shadows; you want some one to understand when you are happy. You want me to say the things you think but have no time to say. You want a daily contact with people who lead your sort of life. It is as though I completed the circuit that enables the start of fellowship to travel from one to another in our circle of mothers and home-makers.
When you write to me, I am glad to have you tell me your children's names and ages, and the things you do. It makes you seem more real to me. There is not space enough to print all these things, but they bring me closer to you and make it possible for me to reflect you in the editorials I write for you.
It is Our Paper and Our Household. Write and tell me if this is what you want to the Household to be.