The Girl and Her Religion

by Margaret Slattery

I called upon her mother and learned that she was greatly concerned because of the changes in her daughter. I was surprised to find, however, that she stated quite calmly that the girl's appetite was not good and that she complained of being unable to sleep and of having "dreadful dreams." The mother had not consulted a physician. She scolded the girl for being lazy and indifferent; at school the teacher reprimanded her constantly. I urged the mother by all the arguments I knew to see a physician at once. She said her husband seriously objected to one's "running to the doctor all the time," and that he thought the girl would come out all right. If she did not "brace up pretty soon," she added, they might "take her out of school and put her to work." During the winter the girl contracted a heavy cold and her indifference and apparent laziness increased. The mother was finally enough impressed by our concern for the girl to take her to a good physician. He found her to be in a very run-down state, in bad condition nervously, and really ill.

A year out of school, spent in a country town with her aunt, where she had the best of food, fresh air and exercise, cured this indifferent girl entirely.

Continual headache is often the cause of indifference, and eye strain or improper food the cause of the headache. The first duty of those in charge of the indifferent girl, before passing judgment upon her, is to make sure that the physical condition is not at the bottom of the trouble. Many a case of indifference and loss of spontaneous interest, which cannot be cured by punishment, by persuasion, by prayers or exhortation, can be cured by a wise physician.

Sometimes a girl becomes indifferent from lack of a sympathetic environment. She feels that others do not care about her and that what she does makes no real difference to any one. She may be surrounded by poverty, where the struggle to exist is so keen that there is no time to think of the girl and her needs, or she may have every luxury yet be denied the companionship of one who understands.

I am thinking now of a girl of fifteen, who does not seem in any way to belong in the family where she was born. Her sisters are at work in the factory and content. They are sweet, attractive and good. But she does not want to work in the factory. She would "give the world to have a room alone, that could be all fixed up," as she would like it. The family cannot understand her. She can have none of the things for which she longs, she is not able to be with the sort of people she loves and admires. She wants good books, she enjoys music and longs to be permitted to finish her high school course. She is willing to work out of school hours, to do anything if only she may continue to study. Because the family consider all her notions ridiculous, and all she longs for seems impossible, the don't-care, reckless spirit and the indifferent "what's the use anyway" are gradually enveloping her whole life.

Surrounded by much that money can buy, a most interesting girl whom I met recently is surrendering all her interests to the "don't-care" spirit because the one great desire of her heart is not to be gratified. She has been urged to enter upon the duties of the social world but says she has tried it and "despises society." She does not care about travel, she wants to be trained as a nurse, enter a school of philanthropy and then become a district worker among the poor. Her father will not listen to the plan, her aunt opposes it, her brother laughs at it.

She says that now since all her most earnest desires can never be fulfilled she doesn't care about anything. It was a long time before the teacher of the Bible class of which she was a member could believe that this indifferent girl whose silence had annoyed her each Sunday was longing to serve her fellowmen and had lost heart because the way was blocked. It was only when she had made a special and earnest attempt to really know the girl that she learned the truth.

No one can act wisely in the dark, and before passing judgment upon the indifferent girl who may try one's soul, he should know whether in the thwarting of all her desires, the denial of the right to follow her natural inclination for work and service, lies the explanation of her indifference.

Many times the girl who seems indifferent, is so only on the outside. She has developed more as a boy develops and does not wish to reveal her best self, nor even in the least degree her deeper feelings. She hides. When things are very serious or pathetic she sometimes laughs half nervously. She looks out of the window, at the ceiling, whispers to her neighbor or assumes the most disinterested, superior air possible if she is at all impressed. When one sees her alone, it is a great surprise to discover a new girl who is by no means indifferent, who has thoughts and can express them when other girls are not there to listen. Her indifference is not a serious matter, is usually of short duration and is explained by the attitude of self-sufficiency which manifests itself in the teens.

The girl really indifferent to everything, unless she be ill, does not exist. There is a point of contact, a line of interest. The girl indifferent to religion, to the work of the church, to her studies, may be keenly alive to the call of other things—her friends, plans for her future, all lines of social life. Last summer I met a girl of seventeen, indifferent to all interests save nature study. She had failed in the languages, was defeated by mathematics, but could sit hours in the woods waiting for a tiny bird, or a squirrel to pose for her. She had made some remarkable photographs and tinted them beautifully.