We were depression children. Today we would be called “poor,” but the idea never occurred to us. No one dared call us poor. Many others were worse off than we were.
The year was 1932, in the worst of the Great Depression. Hoover was president. When my father could find work, he was paid about $1.00 per day. Mother was an excellent seamstress, and made more money sewing and washing clothes for others than my father could make, so my father helped with the washing. When she had the time, Mother sewed clothes for me, my two younger brothers, and my little sister, usually out of hand-me-downs. And as we wore holes in them, she sewed on neat patches. We were always clean, particularly when we went to school and church.
My sixth-grade home room teacher was Miss Davie. One day in the early spring, Miss Davie asked me to stay after school. We went into her office where she closed the door. I wondered what I had done wrong. Then she turned to me and smiled and said, “Dwane, I tithe. But I do not give all of my tithe to the church. I believe the Lord wants me to use some of it to help those who are deserving. You go with your family to church twice every Sunday and once every Wednesday. I think the Lord would be pleased if you had a good pair of Sunday pants to wear to church. I have prayed about it, and I think he would like it. Would you ask your parents, would they be offended if the Lord let me use some of his money to buy you a new pair of pants?”
Although I was approaching my 12th birthday, I could not remember ever owning a new pair of store-bought pants. The prospect was very exciting as I ran home to ask my parents. I really did not understand why a tear ran down my mother’s cheek as she said she guessed it would be alright, but I should accept nothing other than the pants.
The next Saturday Miss Davie met me in front of the local dry goods store. We spent the next hour shopping for just the right pair of pants. The store owner was very helpful. I selected a magnificent pair of long pants, by no means the cheapest. They cost $3.98.
As I entered Miss Davie’s car to be driven home, she paused and looked at me and said, “Dwane, I did not spend my money on those pants. I spent the Lord’s money. There may come a time when you will wish to repay the money spent on you today. If so, don’t bring it to me. You must return it to the Lord.” I thought for a moment and then said, “Do you mean I should put it in the collection plate?” Miss Davie smiled and said, “I doubt if the Lord will let you get by that easy. I think that the only way you can pay back God’s money which is spent on you is by finding someone else who is worthy and needs help and spending part of your own tithe on them.“ I really did not understand it, but I remembered it.
My father thought the pants were too expensive, as they cost the equivalent of four days’ work. However, they were excellent! Mother turned under several inches of cloth when she hemmed the legs, and let them out inch by inch as I grew. When my waist became too large for the pants, she shortened the legs so they would fit my next younger brother. The pants not only served me long and faithfully, but also served each of my younger brothers Sunday after Sunday, as we grew through the range of their sizes. I often wonder what became of them.
Upon beginning to reach manhood, I understood what Miss Davie meant. Every time I saw a deserving needy person, there arose a compelling desire to repay the Lord for those pants. The fact that the need was for Something other than pants made no difference. The Lord does not insist on repayment in kind. Over the next few years, I am sure the debt was repaid more than seven times over, even at inflated prices. I didn’t keep score.
Later, I returned to my hometown (Denton, Texas) for a visit, and I decided to go by and tell Miss Davie that I had repaid the Lord for those pants. When I knocked on the door of her family home, I was told that she had passed away the year before. I went back to the car thinking, “Miss Davie now knows that I have repaid the Lord for those pants.” As I got in the car, in my mind’s eye I could see Miss Davie in the front seat smiling, wagging her finger at me, and saying, “No, you haven’t!” The vision is correct.
Even to this day, when the situation presents itself, there arises in me a strong impulse to repay the Lord for those pants. I am not always responsive to this call, but I have been responsive a sufficient number of times to know that when Miss Davie invested $3.98 of the Lord’s money in me, she made a darn good investment.
