I'll
never forget Easter 1946. I was 14, my little sister Ocy was 12, and my older
sister Darlene 16. We lived at home with our mother, and the four of us knew
what it was to do without many things. My dad had died five years before,
leaving Mom with seven school kids to raise and no money.
By 1946
my older sisters were married and my brothers had left home. A month before
Easter the pastor of our church announced that a special Easter offering would
be taken to help a poor family. He asked everyone to save and give
sacrificially.
When we
got home, we talked about what we could do. We decided to buy 50 pounds of
potatoes and live on them for a month. This would allow us to save $20 of our
grocery money for the offering. When we thought that if we kept our electric
lights turned out as much as possible and didn't listen to the radio, we'd save
money on that month's electric bill. Darlene got as many house and yard cleaning
jobs as possible, and both of us babysat for everyone we could. For 15 cents we
could buy enough cotton loops to make three pot holders to sell for
$1.
We made
$20 on pot holders. That month was one of the best of our lives.
Every
day we counted the money to see how much we had saved. At night we'd sit in the
dark and talk about how the poor family was going to enjoy having the money the
church would give them. We had about 80 people in church, so figured that
whatever amount of money we had to give, the offering would surely be 20 times
that much. After all, every Sunday the pastor had reminded everyone to save for
the sacrificial offering.
The day
before Easter, Ocy and I walked to the grocery store and got the manager to give
us three crisp $20 bills and one $10 bill for all our change.
We ran
all the way home to show Mom and Darlene. We had never had so much money
before.
That
night we were so excited we could hardly sleep. We didn't care that we wouldn't
have new clothes for Easter; we had $70 for the sacrificial offering.
We could
hardly wait to get to church! On Sunday morning, rain was pouring. We didn't own
an umbrella, and the church was over a mile from our home, but it didn't seem to
matter how wet we got. Darlene had cardboard in her shoes to fill the holes. The
cardboard came apart, and her feet got wet.
But we
sat in church proudly. I heard some teenagers talking about the Smith girls
having on their old dresses. I looked at them in their new clothes, and I felt
rich.
When the
sacrificial offering was taken, we were sitting on the second row from the
front. Mom put in the $10 bill, and each of us kids put in a $20.
As we
walked home after church, we sang all the way. At lunch Mom had a surprise for
us. She had bought a dozen eggs, and we had boiled Easter eggs with our fried
potatoes! Late that afternoon the minister drove up in his car. Mom went to the
door, talked with him for a moment, and then came back with an envelope in her
hand. We asked what it was, but she didn't say a word. She opened the envelope
and out fell a bunch of money. There were three crisp $20 bills, one $10 and
seventeen $1 bills.
Mom put
the money back in the envelope. We didn't talk, just sat and stared at the
floor. We had gone from feeling like millionaires to feeling like poor white
trash. We kids had such a happy life that we felt sorry for anyone who didn't
have our Mom and Dad for parents and a house full of brothers and sisters and
other kids visiting constantly. We thought it was fun to share silverware and
see whether we got the spoon or the fork that night.
We had
two knifes that we passed around to whoever needed them. I knew we didn't have a
lot of things that other people had, but I'd never thought we were
poor.
That
Easter day I found out we were. The minister had brought us the money for the
poor family, so we must be poor. I didn't like being poor. I looked at my dress
and worn-out shoes and felt so ashamed—I didn't even want to go back to church.
Everyone there probably already knew we were poor!
I
thought about school. I was in the ninth grade and at the top of my class of
over 100 students. I wondered if the kids at school knew that we were poor. I
decided that I could quit school since I had finished the eighth grade. That was
all the law required at that time. We sat in silence for a long time. Then it
got dark, and we went to bed. All that week, we girls went to school and came
home, and no one talked much. Finally on Saturday, Mom asked us what we wanted
to do with the money. What did poor people do with money? We didn't know. We'd
never known we were poor. We didn't want to go to church on Sunday, but Mom said
we had to. Although it was a sunny day, we didn't talk on the way.
Mom
started to sing, but no one joined in and she only sang one verse. At church we
had a missionary speaker. He talked about how churches in Africa made buildings
out of sun dried bricks, but they needed money to buy roofs. He said $100 would
put a roof on a church. The minister said, "Can't we all sacrifice to help these
poor people?" We looked at each other and smiled for the first time in a
week.
Mom
reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She passed it to Darlene.
Darlene gave it to me, and I handed it to Ocy. Ocy put it in the
offering.
When the
offering was counted, the minister announced that it was a little over $100. The
missionary was excited. He hadn't expected such a large offering from our small
church. He said, "You must have some rich people in this church."
Suddenly
it struck us! We had given $87 of that "little over $100."
We were
the rich family in the church! Hadn't the missionary said so? From that day on
I've never been poor again. I've always remembered how rich I am because I have
Jesus!
-- Author Eddie (Edie) Organ
Grateful
2 comments:
A great story!
Touching to my own heart for decades now.
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