It was a cold winter morning. Snow covered the ground. The frost on the
trees sparkled in the bright sunlight like ten thousand diamonds. But the
brightness outside seemed to find no reflection in me. I had been confined
to my bed for more than six months. I was gloomy and despondent. It seemed
as though all the light and joy had gone out of my life and that only pain
and suffering and sorrow were left to me. I had no desire to live. Again
and again I prayed that I might die. I should have welcomed any form of
death, even the most horrible. I had grown morbid, and almost despaired. I
had been prayed for again and again, but the healing touch came not. Life
seemed to hold for me no ray of hope, no gleam of sunshine.
As I lay brooding in my melancholy state, a red grosbeak, with his bright
red plumage, alighted on a tree a few feet from my window. His eyes
sparkled as he gazed at me with interest. He turned his head now this way
and now that, apparently studying me intently, and then he gave a cheery
call and hopped as near to me as he could get and repeated his cries over
and over. Somehow his cries took the form of words in my mind. This is
what he said to me: “You, you, you, cheer up, cheer up, cheer up.” He
hopped about from limb to limb, wiping his beak, picking at pieces of
bark, but ever and anon hopping back to look at me and cry again. “Cheer
up, cheer up, cheer up.” This he did for a long time, then he flew away,
only to return soon and to peer at me again, crying his merry “You, you,
you, cheer up, cheer up, cheer up.” For more than two hours he continued
to repeat this and then went away, and far in the distance I heard the
last echoes of his notes still saying, “Cheer up, cheer up.”
It seemed as though God had sent the bird to bring a message to my soul;
and as I thought of the cold and the snow and the winter winds, of the
bird’s uncertain supply of food, of his many enemies, and considered that,
in spite of all this, he could be so cheerful and gay, it made me feel
ashamed that I should be so melancholy and despondent. His message,
enforced by his example, sank into my heart. I began to think over the
favorable side of my situation. I began to consider how many things the
Lord had bestowed upon me in the past—his mercy, his kindness, and his
blessings. My heart took courage, hope began to lift herself up from the
dust I reflected over the way I had yielded to discouragement. I saw that
if I was ever to rise above it I must set myself resolutely to the task of
looking upon the bright side and of overcoming the gloom and heaviness.
The message of the bird made me ashamed to submit longer to my feelings. I
resolved then and there that I would be different. And from that day I
began to act and think and speak more cheerfully. Many times I had to act
contrary to the way I felt, but I found that this was having an influence
upon my feelings, and the more I practised being cheerful the more
cheerful I became. Many times I have been sorely pressed down in spirit,
but I have found that I can act cheerfully and talk cheerfully even in the
midst of depression, and that this is not hypocrisy, but the true way in
which to meet such things and conquer them.
Cheerfulness is largely a matter of habit. We must do one of two
things—either yield to our feelings and let them be our master or compel
our feelings to yield to us that we may be their master. It is a case of
conquering or being conquered. So many persons are at the mercy of their
emotions. If they do not feel well in body, or their mind is troubled, or
their spiritual sky is clouded, they yield themselves to gloomy thoughts
and look upon the dark side of the picture. Their thoughts and feelings
are reflected in their face, and actions and words. This, in turn, reacts
upon them, and they then feel worse in body and mind. Every one around
them knows how they feel. This is putting a premium on your bad feelings.
It is encouraging them. And it is a very bad habit. You can be cheerful if
you will. Do not wear your troubles on your face. Do not let them put a
note of sadness in your voice. Cease your sighing: you are only adding to
your burdens. Take the birds advice and cheer up. You can if you will. You
can hide your burdens instead of advertising them. To hide them will help
you to forget them. You have a place to put your burdens—“Casting all your
care upon Him.”
I still suffer; I still have periods of mental depression; but I have
learned to be cheerful and not let these things be on exhibition. I find
it now the easier, and by far the better, way. Cheerfulness is a habit;
get the habit. It depends upon you, not upon your circumstances. You can
rule your circumstances instead of letting them rule you. Take hold of
your bad feelings with a will and conquer them with cheerfulness. The task
may not be easy at first, but keep at it and you will win. Do not despair
if you lose a few battles. You may have cultivated gloom for so long a
time that it has become the fixed state of your mind. Overcome the habit.
God will help you. When your feelings become gloomy, say, “I will not be
so,” and force your mind into other channels. It will want to go back to
its former habit, but as often as you catch yourself thinking along gloomy
lines turn your thoughts back to the sunshine. Put good cheer into your
voice and a smile on your face, no matter how you feel. It will prove a
tonic for soul, mind, and body. Listen to the redbird. Hear his merry
“Cheer up, cheer up,” and act upon his advice. You will find it worth
while.