Who is rich?

Eddie Ogan lives in rural Washington and wrote a story about her childhood that I’ll never forget.  Given the season, I thought you might enjoy it, too:

I'll never forget Easter 1946. I was 14, my little sister Ocy was 12, and my older sister Darlene 16. My dad had died five years before.

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 to save on the grocery bill.  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.

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 could hardly wait to get to church! When the offering was taken, 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. 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. She opened the envelope and out fell 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.  I knew we didn't have a lot of things that other people had, but I'd never thought we were poor. I looked at my dress and worn-out shoes and felt so ashamed.

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.

At church we had a missionary speaker. He talked about how churches in Africa 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!"

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Eddie said she never felt poor again.  Being rich is measured more by what we share than by what we have.