哈蒂·梅·拉特里夫 /HattieMaeRatliff
Onemorningmyoldestdaughter, Rhonda, rushedinmyfrontdoor.“Mom, themostwonderfulthingjusthappened.”
Ismiled, rememberingRhonda'senthusiasmasayounggirl, , asawifeandmotheroftwo, shecouldstillenergizearoom.
“Goodmorning, Rhonda, andagoodmorningtoyoutoo, sweetpea,” Isaid, pickingupmytwo-year-oldgranddaughter.“Let'.” Turningaround, Ilookedatmydaughter.“Areyoupregnant?”
“No, Mom, ”, shesighedwithexcitement.“, thedirectorofSaintFrancisSchool, toldmethismorningthatananonymouspersonispayingGreg', they'repayinghistuitionforthewholeyear.”
Rhonda'seyesfilledwithtearsasshegrabbedmyhand.“Wasityou, Mom? Youanddad?”
“No, Iwishwecould, butitwasn'tus.” Isaid.
Rhondaandherhusband, , asnewlyweds, theysetofffortheirfirstteachingjobs, readytochangetheworld, onechildatatime, ifnecessary.
AfterRebekahwasborn, -time, stay-at-homemom, reservingherteachingforherownlittleone.
, , 'stuition.
Rhonda, stillholdingthenotefromtheschoolinherhand, said.“IjustwishIknewwhowassogenerous.”
“Rhonda, Ithinkthat, whoeverthebenefactoris, itmustbeimportanttothemtokeeptheiridentityprivate.“Givingherahug, Icontinued, “.”
“Mom, you'resuchaPollyanna! '.”
Severalmonthslater, neartheendoftheschoolyear, -byesasRhondahuntedthroughherpurseforhermisplacedkeys.
“Shoot, Iforgottosignandreturnthis,” shesaid, , asmallpieceofpinkpaperfelltothefloor.
“What'sthis?” Iasked, pickingupthepaperandhandingittoRhonda.
