While I was moved to share with you the secret of Br. B.F. Martin's generosity, I am moved to share with you another act of kindness. This act was also a secret. Not because I was instructed to do so but because it was experienced only by me and the donor (whose name I don't know). While I spoke of it privately to friends and family, it was an experience that moves me to tears every time I tell it.
It was the opening day of the Hurricane Relief Center. We had circulated fliers to all the churches requesting donated items for our Monday morning opening. The first person to walk into the Relief Center that Monday morning was an elderly black man. He was carrying three hangers with clean and meticulously pressed jeans. Used jeans. I approached him and asked him how I could help. He handed me the jeans on the hangers and then went on to explain how he had stayed up all night washing and pressing them. "They're old jeans," He said. "But they're clean. I figured someone could use them. These folks got nothing."
I took the jeans on the hangers from him. While he also apologized for not having anything else to give. He said that he only had four pair of jeans to his name. Three of which hung starched and ironed on the hangers. The forth pair he was wearing.
I could hardly speak. Tears were rolling down my cheek as I accepted his sweet offer.
There were many acts of kindness to follow including that of Br. Martin, but it was this single act of generosity that spoke to my soul. While I figure that the old gentleman was limited in his means, he was certainly not limited in his selflessness.
It was this gesture of love at the beginning of our efforts that shaped the way we would close the relief center at the end. Once the holidays were over and we went about our business closing the relief center down. We opened the doors to area churches, smaller relief efforts and we even shipped clothes to Texas. We still had racks and racks of clothes. We called around to see what other relief efforts were doing with the mounds of clothes they had left over. Many told us they just carried them to the dump.
I remembered the jeans. I remembered the little black man who stayed up all night and pressed those jeans. I remembered his sweet face as he apologized because he had nothing else worth giving, so he thought. I felt the love. And I felt that it would be disrespectful and unchristian to throw any piece of clothing away.
So, we made the decision to keep the clothes. Not for ourselves. But to use as future quilts. The Quilting Queens, made up of Relief Center volunteers, was formed. And the clothes were rendered into scraps and quilt after quilt were crafted by these sweet amazing women. Many of whom had never quilted before.
The love shown during this tragic time in our State's history was sewn into every quilt and either donated or raffled to raise more money for the continued relief efforts.
Three pair of used jeans and $30,000 in cash were the smallest and largest contribution to the Relief Center. Both were equally astounding. And both spoke to my soul?
It was the opening day of the Hurricane Relief Center. We had circulated fliers to all the churches requesting donated items for our Monday morning opening. The first person to walk into the Relief Center that Monday morning was an elderly black man. He was carrying three hangers with clean and meticulously pressed jeans. Used jeans. I approached him and asked him how I could help. He handed me the jeans on the hangers and then went on to explain how he had stayed up all night washing and pressing them. "They're old jeans," He said. "But they're clean. I figured someone could use them. These folks got nothing."
I took the jeans on the hangers from him. While he also apologized for not having anything else to give. He said that he only had four pair of jeans to his name. Three of which hung starched and ironed on the hangers. The forth pair he was wearing.
I could hardly speak. Tears were rolling down my cheek as I accepted his sweet offer.
There were many acts of kindness to follow including that of Br. Martin, but it was this single act of generosity that spoke to my soul. While I figure that the old gentleman was limited in his means, he was certainly not limited in his selflessness.
It was this gesture of love at the beginning of our efforts that shaped the way we would close the relief center at the end. Once the holidays were over and we went about our business closing the relief center down. We opened the doors to area churches, smaller relief efforts and we even shipped clothes to Texas. We still had racks and racks of clothes. We called around to see what other relief efforts were doing with the mounds of clothes they had left over. Many told us they just carried them to the dump.
I remembered the jeans. I remembered the little black man who stayed up all night and pressed those jeans. I remembered his sweet face as he apologized because he had nothing else worth giving, so he thought. I felt the love. And I felt that it would be disrespectful and unchristian to throw any piece of clothing away.
So, we made the decision to keep the clothes. Not for ourselves. But to use as future quilts. The Quilting Queens, made up of Relief Center volunteers, was formed. And the clothes were rendered into scraps and quilt after quilt were crafted by these sweet amazing women. Many of whom had never quilted before.
The love shown during this tragic time in our State's history was sewn into every quilt and either donated or raffled to raise more money for the continued relief efforts.
Three pair of used jeans and $30,000 in cash were the smallest and largest contribution to the Relief Center. Both were equally astounding. And both spoke to my soul?
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