tion Army corps (church) we at-
tended. Every week we would drive
across town to Mers' tenement
apartment, pick up the basket of
ironing and pay her for her work.
Once home, Mom took out the
clothing piece by piece, and ironed
it again.
if you're just going to do it over?"
needs the money."
living on a limited income, Mrs.
Grubb came to our house every
week. She was a cheerless woman
who seemed to approach every
cleaning task as though we children
had created it solely to make her
life miserable. Mrs. Grubb left be-
hind a wake of streaked windows,
sticky linoleum floors and half�dust-
ed surfaces every Thursday. Every
Saturday, my mother would put
my brothers and me to work cor-
recting Mrs. Grubb's cleaning job.
lady," we would say. "Why do you
pay her to clean if you're just going
to make us do it over a few days
later?"
and my family was the
poorest on the block
in a solidly middle�
class neighborhood. My
friends sported the lat-
est fashions; I wore my
homes on the block boasted fine
furnishings and color televisions;
our carpets were threadbare and
I was convinced our
black�and�white television was
old enough to have broadcast
John Cameron Swayze reporting
the invention of the wheel. Other
families parked two cars in their
garages; my father worked long
hours to keep our 1957 Ford
Fairlane running, and my moth-
er rode the bus an hour each way
to her job every day.
that employed an ironing lady and
a cleaning woman. In the days be-
fore permanent press, my father
would take a basket of clothes
(which Mom had pre�dampened
and rolled up) to a woman named
Mers every week. Everyone called
her "Mers." She was a widow, and
the money."
her relationship with Mers and
Mrs. Grubb mystified me for years.
I always suspected that there might
have been more to her arrange-
ments with Mers and Mrs. Grubb
than I could understand at the
time, but I never quite got it. Then
one day, my son arrived home from
school and saw Tim, a friend of
mine, painting my home office.
earshot.
money," I said.
membered how often she had used
such words in reference to Mers
and Mrs. Grubb, and the light sud-
denly dawned. I realized then that,
without me even suspecting it, my
mother had taught me how re-
warding it can be to secretly give
to the needy. She could have told
me and my brothers that Jesus
commanded us to "give to the needy
without letting your left hand know
what your right hand is doing, so
that your giving may be in secret"
(Matt. 6:3,4). But she showed us
instead.
it from my mother.