IT'S JUST A JAR OF PEACHES
Mother had a lot of faith in God. It was about 1933 because my sister was a baby and I was not yet old enough to go to school. Dad had left us for a waitress he had met at a local diner, where he was employed as the cook. Over the next few years until they were divorced, he would come and go. Mom always welcomed him back, hoping each time he would stay.
The Great Depression was at its worst and with Dad gone, Mom had to take in washings to make a living for us. That's when several Missions for the poor sprang up in Charleston. I think everyone of them helped us out at some time or another. One of the Missions in town was run by Earl Hissom; everybody called him, Earl. On our small table radio, we listened to him regularly.
A few days before Thanksgiving, he asked for donations of food people might have for his truck to pick up to give out to the poor. Volunteers, he said, would sort it all out and deliver baskets to the poorer sections of town the night before the holiday. Mom went to the kitchen where she kept food she had canned, took a jar of peaches from the top shelf, and set it on the porch bannister for the truck to pick up. The neighbors who saw it told her she was too poor to give away that jar of peaches. One, a particularly cynical woman, actually called Mom a fool for giving Earl Hissom anything. She said he was a crook and would either keep the peaches himself or sell them to someone else. I was listening to all this with big ears for a 4 year old and wondered, myself, if Mom was making a mistake.
But, Mom held her ground and the peaches stayed on the bannister. She told everyone who advised her not to do it, that she would give the peaches in good faith and it was up to Earl what he did with them. "For heaven's sake," she said, "It's just a jar of peaches!" They were picked up a few days before Thanksgiving.
On Thanksgiving Eve, just as we were getting ready for bed, there was a knock on our door and we heard footsteps quickly leaving. We waited until they were gone and then Mom opened the door. On our porch was a box of food. We were overwhelmed because Mom never really thought of us as being poor. She always stressed how much we had, not what we lacked, and taught us to thank the Lord for His blessings. Therefore we didn't expect that anyone would bring US a Thanksgiving basket! Excited, we brought it in and began to unpack it.
There was a freshly dressed chicken, some potatoes, dried beans, rice, flour, canned pumpkin, and - you guessed it - the jar of peaches Mom had canned herself and given to Earl. She sat on the floor and cried. I walked with her to the kitchen where she carefully placed the jar of peaches right back in the empty spot on the top shelf it had left just a few days before. It had come home, bringing with it all the other good things, and we had a scrumptious Thanksgiving dinner the next day.
You cant out-give God, Mom said as she prepared our meal. You reap what you sow. My young, impressionable mind saw the fruit of Mom's faith and it made an indelible impression on me. Mother made sure the whole neighborhood knew about the goodness of the Lord, and I never heard anyone call Mom a fool after that.
"But this I say: He who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully." 2Cor. 9:6
Evelyn R. Smith
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