One evening the door bell rang.I was tired and trodded downstairs feeling like a martyr. I opened the door to find an elderly parishioner. She said, "I just wanted you to have this." I said thank you. It was an envelope of money, nearly a month’s pay for me. I left it on my bedroom bureau.
Next day a parishioner came by for an appointment. She was a cheerful woman who always sat in the front pew in church, always joined us for hospitality after services. I had no idea what the reason was for her visit. She began by telling me that before she returned to the church, she had earned her living as a prostitute. She still had friends in that line of work. Whenever her finances collapsed to the point where she could not survive, she returned to her former work. She told me her car had broken down. Thwe repairs needed were extensive and she didn’t have that kind of money. She had spent three nights earning a lot of what she needed. She decided to come in to talk because she was disgusted with what she was doing. We talked and I asked her how much she still needed. It was the amount of money sitting in the envelope in my room. I gladly
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