Friday, February 23, 2024 Two Sisters

There were two sisters who lived in the valley, just south of the fork in the river and west of the big tree. Their names were Johoshabeath and Mehitabel, but most people just called them Hosha (long “o” sound, please) and Hitty, and so shall we. They sprang from the same root and looked a lot alike; when they were younger, they were often mistaken for being twins. When they grew to adulthood their lives took similar paths: they got married, had children and stayed active in their little community.

However, although they both encountered hardships, Hosha took them in stride with a healthy cheer, while Hitty began to be characterized by what we might call “a spirit of envy.” Hitty could not see other people being happy without feeling a sense that her life had been unremittingly unfair. On a walk through the neighborhood, she would see an old friend in her house and think, “Why don’t we have a house like that? Ours isn’t nearly so nice.” At the grocery store, she’d see someone buying an expensive cut of meat and say to herself, “It must be nice to be so wealthy as to afford that kind of food.” She’d go home and watch a romantic comedy by herself and sigh, “I wish my husband was like that fellow – what a wonderful marriage we’d have if only he were the right kind of man.” Observing a well-behaved family in church, she thought, “Too bad my children aren’t like those children. It would sure make my life easier if they were.” And so on.

Hosha and Hitty met for lunch regularly and one day, Hosha noticed that Hitty appeared to be just a smidge shorter. “Hitty, how are you feeling these days? You seem a little …um…diminished in stature.” Hosha knew how sensitive Hitty was to perceived insults, so she tread carefully.

Hitty replied, “It’s funny you should ask – I’ve been feeling so achy lately. It’s like my very bones are making noise and complaints. Isn’t that odd? But of course, you always look the picture of health, dear Hosha. It must be nice to feel great all the time.”

Of course Hosha did not feel great all the time, but her theology was sound enough to give her confidence when bearing up under the aches and pains of getting older. She said nothing to Hitty, not wanting to appear “holier than thou.” When Hosha saw Hitty a month later, she gasped in shock, for Hitty was now a full two inches shorter and was looking a little bent where she should be straight. “Hitty,” she admonished, “You need to get to the doctor right now. I’ll drive you to the clinic!”

The doctor rolled up his sleeves and put Hitty through all manner of medical tests and scans. “Don’t you fret, Hitty – we’ll figure this out in no time!” he said with a confidence that had no basis in reality. When all the data was in, he was as puzzled as he’d ever been. “Hitty, I don’t know what’s going on, but your heart is weak and your bones appear to be rotting. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s not cancer, it’s not any other bone disease I’ve ever heard of. Go home and rest and I’ll see what I can find out about possible diagnosis, treatment and cure.”

With this, Hosha drove Hitty home and listened to Hitty’s constant carping about wishing she could have what others had, the things that made their lives happy and hers so miserable. Finally Hosha could stand it no longer. “Hitty, the only thing that prevents you from being happy is your own insidious envy of others. If you’d spend more time being thankful for what you have instead of yearning for things you don’t have, you might be surprised at the result.”

Hitty was supremely insulted at this hurtful and insensitive speech and retreated into silence for the rest of the way home. She said a stiff goodbye to Hosha and hobbled painfully into her house. But as they say, pain concentrates the mind wonderfully, and over the next few days, she could not forget Hosha’s words. She began to be aware of just how often she gave her thoughts over to envy and each time she did, she felt new twinges of pain. At last, she came to the end of herself and cried out, “Lord, help!” And with those two words, everything changed and yet nothing did. She had the same house, the same husband, the same children, the same budget and the same pains, but envy was leaving her heart and being replaced with contentment moment by moment, day by day.

Two months later, she returned to the doctor, who was dreading her visit, having found nothing to help her. She no longer looked bent where she should be straight and she was no longer hobbling. He took new x-rays and marveled at the difference, beaming as if his skill had wrought this miraculous change. “I can’t believe I’m looking at the same person as before,” he said, “your heart is perfectly sound and those bones look as healthy as they can be! Whatever have you been doing?” She smiled and said, “I evicted a tenant that had stayed overlong and done much damage. You could call it repentance.”

On the way home, she stopped at Hosha’s house and embraced her with joy.

“A sound heart is life to the body,
But envy is rottenness to the bones.”
Proverbs 14:30

This has been Fiction Friday with Lynniebeemuseoday.

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