Grace Ingles Frost was a prolific poet (we’ve read some of her poems and stories at Keepa), a trained nurse, and an ardent Church worker. She wrote this article for the Young Woman’s Journal.
“Called to Her Calling”
Grace Ingles Frost
You will probably ask, “What is her calling?” It is the one that was given to woman in the beginning, by her Heavenly Father — the calling of wife and mother.
We are most of us ambitious, and it is right to be so, but we should never allow ambition to ruin our lives. We cannot all be Pattis, Bernhardts or Bonheurs. And even were it possible, we should not neglect the calling of every true woman’s life, that of motherhood. This is the highest calling that a woman can have. There can be none greater, nor can there be a happier one. Remember “The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.” Wise indeed was the peerless Gerster when she relinquished her stage triumphs to sing lullabies to her babies. She heeded the call and says that she would rather hear infant lips lisp “Mamma” than receive all the applause that the world can bestow.
If you will bear with me, I wish to paint two pictures for your inspection.
The first is of a young girl, who ten years ago was the embodiment of happiness. From the time she was a tiny child her heart had been filled with mother-love. She was a devoted little mother to her doll babies, and as she grew older would gladly forsake the pleasures of youth to care for a baby.
When she attained her eighteenth year, she found that she was the possessor of a beautiful voice. And letting her ambition for a career overpower her desire for the higher calling, she ruined her entire life. Trials came. Then she lost her health. This deprived her of the voice she so valued. Today were you to meet her, you would find a woman grown old before her time, an invalid and one who is broken hearted. Her heart still o’erflows with mother love, but her arms are forever empty. Well may she murmur,
“Of all sad word of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these, it might have been.”
My second picture is more cheerful. It is the studio of a girl artist, who, filled with enthusiasm for her work, stands before an easel, contemplating a picture to which she has just given the finishing touch. As she stands thus her lover enters and throwing his arm around her asks her to be his wife. Palette and brush fall to the floor. In a moment she forgets fame, for she sees the higher calling.
Ah, dear girl readers, which one of these pictures will you choose when you, too, are “called to your calling”?