I had an alabaster box. It contained some ointment, a very fragrant and rare perfume. I have kept it for
years, hoping that sometime, someday, I might find a good use for it. It was an ointment of excellent fragrance, very rare and expensive. I knew it was meant for noble use.
Each time I attempted to pour it on myself, I felt a check in my heart. A restraint from an invisible hand, urging me to wait. Many have come to beg for this precious ointment I owned. You see, my heart is very tender and I am
philanthropic at heart yet I knew from deep within that this ointment was for service beyond the realm of philanthropy.
My most trying moment came when my own dear brother became ill. We did all we could but he only got worse. We spent all we had on medication and hospital bills. All, except my box of ointment. Continue reading