From the Editor

Where your treasure is, your heart will be

Some years ago, I happened to be passing through the church late one evening. As I was walking through the gathering space, I crossed paths with someone who was bringing a donation of food for the parish food pantry. As I greeted her, she said, “Oh, I wish you hadn’t seen me here.”  Puzzled by her reaction, I asked, “Why is that?”  She said, “I don’t like anyone to see me when I drop off my gift to the food pantry. I love knowing that I make a difference–I just don’t like the spotlight on me. I’d much rather work behind the scenes.”

My grandfather, the good steward

My grandpa Leo, my dad’s father, lived most of his life in what is now the tough part of the city of Saginaw. The neighborhood wasn’t always that way, though. I remember seeing photos of how it was when my dad was a child. It was the picture of middle America, with neatly mown lawns and well-tended hedges. Front porches were tidy and flower gardens adorned the side lawns. Grandpa’s house was no exception.


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