Last week, I found myself thinking of things that still are bothering me. I just had finished hauling in a second load of firewood that was given to me by a fellow I met only twice. The wood was already cut, dried and stacked and ready to burn. I had been worried about having enough dry wood to burn along with the fresh cut wood, but needlessly. I like it when problems are handled for me.

After that, I decided to tackle the job of preparing the house for a family member’s visit. I started by cleaning up the yard. It isn’t easy to clean up your yard when you just finished hauling in several truckloads of stuff, so I decided to get started by hauling a few things back out — some to the dump, a few things to storage and a few things elsewhere.

One item that ended up headed for the dump was a very old heater. But before tossing it in the trash, I decided to first plug it in. I was surprised when it worked. I didn’t need it and I didn’t even know where it came from, but I couldn’t justify throwing it away. Earlier in the week, I had considered tossing out an adult-sized potty chair that was discarded at a friend’s house. The chair was new, complete and hadn’t even been used for its intended purpose, but had been included in a load of trash heading for the landfill. My friend had used it as a shower seat after having surgery. On a whim I took it to the house and decided to try and find it a home.

I also gathered a few unwanted toys, a mattress and a few other items. I opted to take it all to Cora’s Charities.

When I arrived, I searched for Cora for several minutes before locating her in her tiny office — one of the few rooms in her compound in the Glade Valley flats with heat.

We talked for a few minutes as she went on working, until she asked my reason for stopping in. I told her about the things I had on the truck. That’s when she told me that someone had just called needing the chair. The benevolent Mrs. Neville already had one on hand, but some of the pieces were missing. She told me that a person who just had surgery needed it desperately.

As usual, she was the calm within the storm, working in her crowded location as vehicle after vehicle pulled in to donate items that she had to find room for. There was a pattern to the chaos, I soon saw, as she directed people from place to place. “Put it over there with the things I am going to go through,” she said. That pile was nearly to the ceiling, but a pathway remained to the door. The door is on the narrow path, I thought to myself.

As I unloaded the truck, she told me that she had need of the heater and 13 people were sleeping on the floor needing mattresses. She directed me to place the items here and there, just like she had the others.

It’s always hard for me to believe how many people she helps and how she remembers the needs of each person. She has helped me to see how much difference one person can make. Why don’t we all make a difference for someone else? Don’t we all have the same ability she has?

As usual, I felt pretty small in delivering my few meager items to her and, as usual, she told me that the items I took her were an answer to prayers and how kind I was to bring them. People who bless others seldom keep any praise for themselves.

I wonder what would happen if just half the people she helped came back and worked for one hour. Sadly, that doesn’t seem to happen. Of course, I’m not there working, either.

She has a loyal few who toil countless hours to help sort and organize. Hers is a place without much polish. She works on in the trenches where those who are deeply in need are found, where not even a few dollars can be spared to meet such a simple need. She seems to love everyone, regardless of race, religion or language. Our very own Mother Teresa of the mountains, working countless hours in harsh conditions and often spending her own money — at least some of which was once earned working part-time as a cleaning lady — to pay rent for storage.

Some people complain about the way things look sometimes around her shop, but they wouldn’t be complaining if they needed help. There would be less reason to complain if those who speak negatively spent some of their own time giving a hand. My daddy always told me, “Son, don’t complain about something unless you’re willing to work to make it better.” Good lessons always hit home.

As I headed back home to prepare to head off for a shopping excursion with my family, I thought for just a minute about the fate of others who aren’t as fortunate and how sometimes only one feisty little white-haired woman is between them and not having their basic needs met. It made my shopping trip seem wrong.

Most working people are just a few paychecks away from being homeless, statistics show. How long could my family make it without steady income? Where would I turn for help?

I’ve been fortunate, blessed, to have steady work in failing economic times. I have a warm home, a comfortable bed, more food than I can eat and more clothes than I can wear. And the best I could do was a discarded heater and a potty chair? Even that pitiful effort was called a blessing.

There are also other charities in need, including the food closet, Alleghany CARES, a Partnership coat drive, other food drives, Christmas toy drives and countless others. I was so busy focusing on myself and my own needs, I somehow let helping others elude me.

I need to rethink my priorities, I thought. Maybe it’s time we all did.

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