[Granville-Hough] 20 Jan 2009 - Widow's Mite

[Trustees for Granville W. Hough]

Date: Tue, 20 Jan 2009 16:46:00 -0800
From: Granville W Hough <gwhough at oakapple.net>
Subject: 20 Jan 2009 - Widow's Mite

  Bonny and I watched most of the Inaugural events; and it was indeed an 
impressive sight. All one can say now is: "May the Lord bless the new 
administration and guide it on the most fruitful way to accomplish the 
goals outlined by the new president."


Widow’s Mite. (From Mark 12:41-44). Jesus sat down opposite the place 
where the offerings were put (at the Temple in Jerusalem) and watched 
the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people 
threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small 
copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny. Calling his disciples to 
him, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more 
into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their 
wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything – all she had to 
live on.”

Once in the spring of 1936, in my home in Smith County, MS, I became 
part of a funding drive to help people in some local disaster, perhaps a 
tornado, a Leaf River flood, or a big fire. I do not recall what it was. 
We may have been asked to bring something to school from home to help 
out. Anyway, it was organized by the Mize churches into a funding drive 
to pick up goods which would help the distressed people. I was in the 
Seventh Grade. When we arrived at school, several of us with good grades 
who would not miss being in class were asked if we were willing to help 
out with this funding drive. I did not know how to refuse and joined up.
We were each paired up with someone with a car for gathering whatever 
was offered. It was my good fortune to be paired up with a most charming 
lady I had never seen before. She was Mrs. Virgil Sullivan. I did know 
her husband, as he was our mail carrier for Route 3. Either she or 
someone else carefully instructed us on what we were to say as we went 
from house to house. It was a simple statement of the facts of the 
tragedy and a plea for anything they could offer to help. We were to 
address each person by name after we knocked on the door. I knew none of 
the housewives in Mize, but Mrs. Sullivan assured me she would give me 
the names at each house.

I was 13 years old in 1935, and I had already begun to develop the 
cynicism of teen-agers. I thought, “How will the poor folks of Mize 
respond to such a plea? They will laugh at us.” But it was a day away 
from the monotony of school, so I did as well as I could. To my great 
surprise, every person listened to my plea; and everyone gave something. 
One looked around and said, “All I have extra is a spool of thread and a 
needle. Would you take that?” Almost every weekend, I watched my mother 
repair the school shirts and overalls for me and my three younger 
brothers. So I said, “Yes, M’am, it will help someone repair their 
clothes.” So that was the smallest gift.

The last call we made was to the street behind the school house where 
Bill Hardy McAlpin’s family lived. We stopped there successfully, and 
there was one more house on that street before it ended at the edge of 
the overflow plain for Clear Creek. It was to be our last stop. I felt 
like telling Mrs. Sullivan we should not stop there because a poor widow 
lived there who was supporting her daughter or granddaughter. I saw the 
little girl every day in the same clean dress, bare-footed, but with a 
shiny face and freshly combed hair. She was probably a grade or two 
behind me. I went into the house, which was almost bare of furniture, 
but clean as a whistle. I explained my mission, and she exclaimed, “Oh, 
those poor people, let me see what I have that they could use.” She went 
back into her kitchen and came back with three jars of canned goods in 
Mason jars, and I was astounded. She gave more than any other family we 
visited in Mize. I was so impressed I looked for the little girl when we 
came back to school in the Fall of 1936. She was not there, and I was 
told they had moved away.

Through my life, I have heard many preachers talk about the widow’s 
mite, with many interpretations. I always wondered, “Have they ever met 
the poor widow, have they ever been in her house, do they know what her 
children or grandchildren are like, would they recognize the human 
spirit which impels people to help others they don’t even know, even to 
the extent of sharing what they desperately need themselves?” Though it 
is probably an idealization, I have always felt I met the poor widow 
when I was 13 years old, and it was on the backest of the back streets 
of Mize, MS.

Mrs. Virgil Sullivan and I delivered our collection to the central 
point, probably the Mize Methodist Church, and we parted company. If 
other people wanted to get near Mrs. Sullivan, as it was rumored, I can 
understand why. She was a delightful person. So far as I know, she 
remained faithful to her husband, Virgil, for 68 years.