It is 1957, and I am sitting in a Ford station wagon with my four siblings. We are smashed together in the back seat waiting for the money that Daddy would put into our outstretched hands. This is a really big deal. Daddy never gave us money, but he put a dime into each waiting hand. He didn't have to say anything. We knew this was for the Sunday school offering.
Alice (left), Phyllis, Steve, Jane and Pam learned stewardship lessons in their parents' station wagon.
This was my first stewardship lesson: No words, just a gift from Daddy to Jesus via our little hands. When we got to church, we put the money into a small white church with a lantern in the steeple that would light with each dime. This was also a big deal.
My second lesson was during confirmation. We received envelopes to put our offering into for the year. I can't remember the conversation, but I'm sure my mother told me that the money I would put into these envelopes would be my own, not Daddy's. This was my offering. She must have taught me about the tithe because I've known forever that I should put 10 percent into the envelope.
These are just two of the lessons that my parents taught me about how to love Jesus.
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