Her home reminded me of places and people that I have loved all my life. Her hair was snow white, and her face showed a life that had known years of hard work mixed with joy and sorrows. There was always a cup of coffee and plenty of talk and laughter, and sometimes tears. “Let me read from your Bible,” I would ask. She would hand me her large print KJV, then pull the chain on the single light bulb that illuminated the room. Her favorite passage was Psalm 90, “Teach us Lord to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.”

As I would leave she would hand me a jar of pennies, dimes and nickels. “Take this to the church,” she would say. “I wish that I could be there again.” She gave out of her poverty, and God knows that she gave a great treasure. I would leave, and she would set another empty jar beside the Bible.

On Sunday there would be a mason jar with money sitting on the church altar beneath burning candles and beside the cross. No one ever complained that it was inappropriate; in fact it was a perfect symbol of giving your best to the Savior.

“The heart of the giver makes the gift dear and precious.” Once when Jesus was watching the people as they were putting their gifts into the temple treasury, He saw a poor widow put in two small coins. Her gift, that was insignificant to others, blessed the Lord because “she gave out of her poverty.”

Our Gracious Father, You have given us the gift of a new day. It has come to us clean, and may we keep it so. When the shadows of the evening come may our hearts be glad that we walked in your presence all the day, and that from your unending supply, we have given to others treasures from Heaven; and we have given back to you from the rewards of our life.