Enjoying A Happier Life Now!

The eight friends were all women who were considered the favored and happier ones in their communities. Yet, after confessing to one another their histories and most secret feelings, an unexpected discovery was made. In reading this story, your hearts may be startled. I have received so much benefit by the perusal of the conversations that I hope and pray that a similar effect will be produced on your mind as well. The friends met in a literary café in New York. The value of the conversations lies in the true picture given of those usually considered as moral and caring women. They all belonged to various social communities, but the majority of them were not connected with the most needful thing that allows true happiness in life.
If any of you belong to that class, may it please God to touch your heart as you read this chapter and to allow you the comfort in saying, “I will enjoy a happier life now.”
Were it not that I had traced each event to God, I would have said that coincidence brought Janet to a city where had arrived (only a short time before her) seven old friends, from whom she had been separated for several years. It is scarcely necessary to say that they were what the world would call moral women. None of the women abstained from bringing their views before the group. Their friendship was strengthened, and their hearts were opened. They desired to make known to one another their past experiences.
The women chose a morning that they all possessed some free time, with the exception of Danielle, the doctor, who promised to join them later. It was agreed that Anita, a wealthy realtor in Manhattan, should take the lead. She began to speak, “You all know that I turned forty-nine earlier this year, and I am happy to have retired last year, after twenty-five years of hard work, from a calling which enabled me to enjoy a comfortable income. For years, I had looked forward to an early retirement to be with my husband and children. I knew that when it was accomplished, I would be happy.”
“But were you really happy?” exclaimed Patricia.
“I thought I was, but the feeling didn’t last. In my social circle, there was nothing I wanted, yet I was not satisfied. I succeeded in increasing my income, although with some tough times and anxiety. Next, I traveled to and visited many countries and cities with great and varied enjoyment. However, I realized that I couldn’t own any of those places—even this withered on me. More than once, I found myself thinking, ‘Of what use is all this?’ Even now—let me freely confess it—everything around me seems so small, so superficial. I look at my magnificent collection of paintings that cost me a lot of money, and even they don’t satisfy me. As I gaze at the inanimate canvases, they appear to exclaim, ‘We will outlive our owner.’ I think of my age, what’s around me, that which I see, which I hear and do. They all seem to have one voice: ‘You are leaving us.’ And as I listen, I despise.”
“You are a philosopher, Anita,” remarked Patricia, “and I admire you for that. I will probably arrive at the same conclusion. The account of my past life, ladies, will be concise.
“I was a Navy recruit at the age of eighteen and was delighted in my profession. A joyous life is that of ships and barracks. I cannot regret the youthful days that have passed. I do believe that I not only enjoyed my life, but, in some ways, made it useful.
“I was promoted numerous times. From grade to grade I rose, and before the age of forty, I achieved my current rank, one I have enjoyed for the last five years. A year ago, I left the service to make room for the younger Officers. Besides, it was time for me to rest. This is what I now do, surrounded by my children and my grandchildren.”
“But, Patricia,” exclaimed more than one voice, “can you say you are perfectly happy?”
“Happy? Happy!” replied Patricia. “Easy enough to say, but I must confess with the frankness that is expected of me. No, ladies, I am not perfectly happy.
“The reason for my discontent began after a major explosion onboard a ship, during one of our most challenging deployments. I was walking over the damage with some of my sailors. Here and there were seven dead or wounded bodies. At once, I ordered my sailors to carry the wounded where aid could be obtained. I thought I was left alone with three dead sailors; however, a cry of suffering reached my ears. Turning around, I found that the cry was from one of the wounded—a young enlisted female sailor. While speaking to her tenderly and with encouragement, I lifted her head and tried to stop the blood which flowed profusely from her chest.”
“‘Thank you,’ she gasped, ‘but it’s too late. I am dying.’ Still, I continued to encourage her. She opened her eyes, gazed at me with a look not easily forgotten, and replied, ‘The end must come to us all, and mine is here. Please tell my parents I love them.’ With these words, she expired.
“‘The end must come.’ Ladies, these words have never left me. Twelve years have elapsed since dying lips spoke them, and even today they seem to be heard wherever I go, in the midst of everything in which I engage. Last night, for instance, I was with you all at the magnificent ball given by the Women’s Speakers Bureau. Well, don’t laugh at me, but I heard those words in the exquisite music.
“When the lovely President of the Bureau spoke to me in her winning voice of how young and strong I still appeared, I assure you, I was expecting those words would be followed by, ‘The end must come.’
“Let me more clearly explain. I never thought about the future—not even in the most dangerous situations at sea. I thought that honor and wealth, once obtained, were mine forever. But, I am now aroused out of a dream, a delusion. ‘The end must come’ is forever in my ears. Nothing, absolutely nothing silences those words. They haunt and oppress me. Not a day passes without this reflection: ‘In a little while, what will these titles, these honors, these decorations benefit me?’ No, my friends, I am not perfectly happy. I am not peaceful. Even if I live to be one hundred years old, the end must come.”