[Granville-Hough] 23 Oct 2009 - Widow's Mite

[Trustees for Granville W. Hough]

Date: Fri, 23 Oct 2009 10:56:12 -0700
From: Granville W Hough <gwhough at oakapple.net>
Subject: 20 Jan 2009 - Widow's Mite

WidowÆs 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, ôI 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 û all she had to
live on.ö

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, ôHow will the poor folks of Mize
respond to such a plea? They will laugh at us.ö 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, ôAll I have extra is a spool of thread and a
needle. Would you take that?ö Almost every weekend, I watched my mother
repair the school shirts and overalls for me and my three younger
brothers. So I said, ôYes, MÆam, it will help someone repair their
clothes.ö So that was the smallest gift.
The last call we made was to the street behind the school house where
Bill Hardy McAlpinÆs 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, ôOh,
those poor people, let me see what I have that they could use.ö 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 widowÆs
mite, with many interpretations. I always wondered, ôHave 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 donÆt even know, even to
the extent of sharing what they desperately need themselves?ö 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.

Granville.

The house you refer to was in my neighborhood -- the one past Albert
McAlpin's house and on the street to the left down toward Clear Creek.
It was the only house on that short street and was the residence of an
elderly man named Ben Williams, who was also crippled  as I remember.
Ben was the janitor or caretaker for the Mize grammar (elementary)
school.  I don't remember just when he died or moved away, but others
whose names I can't remember lived in that house after  he left.  I
remember -- and I think it was when Ben still occupied that house -- a
girl named Lucille (Lancaster?) -- a very pretty girl --- lived in that
house a short time, but I think she was visiting kin.

Ben was well loved at the school because he was always doing his work
during the school day.  I remember that at Christmas time for some few
years Ben got into a Santa Claus outfit and entertained the younger
children.  Hope it was paid for in his salary. I started to Mize High
School when I was 14 and went there for four years, joining the Army Air
Corps in 1940.  We had moved to the Gulf Coast in 1936 -- the year the
WWI veterans got their bonuses --  but we stayed only a few months and
moved back to Mize in the fall.  I was  two or three weeks late
enrolling at high school, but did okay except that I got a late start in
the algebra class and never really learned it very well.  I had started
to learn Latin at Gulfport High School, but they had no Latin classes at
Mize.

Harold