It was not just the sweet little lamb in front of a flowering shrub in the lower left corner, (I named her Laura Lamb) but my indignation at the bold words in the glass across the bottom of the window. "Given in loving memory of her sister by Mary Stewart White" (Not her name).
Every Sunday, I inwardly told Mary exactly what I thought of someone as conceited as she, wanting everyone to know of her generosity and not notice that she disliked her sister, for, of course, the inscription should have been ~ Given in loving memory of Lucy Stewart by her sister ~.
I imagined a wealthy (in money only) pampered, middle-aged woman. Unfortunately, Mary is typical of a great many people. Nevertheless, Mary reverse inspired me to do in-person nice acts for people without telling them my name.
An especially rewarding experience was when I drove to distant clients, or to visit family or friends, was to arrange my trips so that I could be in a rural area on a Sunday morning. I looked for and stopped at a poor, little, often one-room protestant church with people entering it. I told them that I was just passing through the area, then went in and sat in the back pew, often just a chair adjacent to a side aisle so I could leave easily if I wished. In my purse, I had several different colored, sealed envelopes, each containing a different amount of money. I did not put anything in the collection plate. Then depending on how friendly they were to me, before and after the service, and whether I liked the service, I would select an envelope and give it to the minister, leaving before he opened it. Along with the money, I had a note with just three words on it, ~ Love from Joan.
At one church, where I was the only Caucasian there, they gave me an especially warm welcome. One matronly woman appointed herself as my guide, and sat beside me to find the hymns in the hymn book, and give loud whispered instructions. There were no looks of disappointment when I failed to put anything in the collection plate.
The minister welcomed me to the church, and everyone seconded the welcome, turning to smile a personal greeting to me.
After the service, everyone spoke to me and I received three invitations to come for dinner. Although tempted, these people had little money, and I did not want to eat their hard-earned food, so I declined, saying that I was expected elsewhere.
Before I left, I shook hands with everyone and asked the minister to walk with me to my car as I explained about the envelopes. Then I got into the car, started the engine, and handed him all the envelopes and drove away. The contents of the envelopes totaled fifty dollars, which, at that time, was a lot of money for me, but I knew that for this group of people, it would be almost a fortune.
I had noted the minister's name, as well as that of the church and its address. When I returned home and told my parents of my experience, Mother went into action. Soon there was more cash in an envelope with a note "Love from Joan's Family," which my Father mailed from New York City, as well as a sizeable package with a duplicate note; neither had a return address. I, of course, used a pretty note card to thank them all for their warm welcome. Mother was always clever about the things she put into gift packages for "the less fortunate." This one contained a variety of nice things with which to decorate the church in various seasons.
~ Enjoy in-person anonymous gift giving. ~
Joan Eastman-Bennett
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