Twice a week for more than 30 years, Albert Lexie rose before dawn and rode buses for an hour and a half from Monessen to Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh. There he pushed his purple cart through the halls and shined the shoes of doctors, executives, and staff for two to five dollars a pair. From 1982 to 2013 he quietly gave his tips to the hospital’s Free Care Fund, which helps families who cannot afford their children’s care. By the time he retired, his gifts had added up to $202,000. He called the patients Albert’s kids. He died in 2018 at 76. Small, faithful gifts given over many years can add up to something extraordinary.
When James Harrison was 14, he had lung surgery in Australia and needed many blood transfusions. He woke up in intensive care determined to give back. Encouraged by his father, who was a donor, he started giving blood in 1954 at age 18. His plasma turned out to contain a rare antibody called Anti-D, used to make medicine that protects unborn babies whose mothers’ blood might attack them. Harrison never missed a single appointment. He donated every two weeks until he retired in 2018 at age 81, giving 1,173 times in all. Lifeblood credits him with saving more than 2.4 million Australian babies. He liked to say that it does not hurt, and the life you save could be your own.
When Handel’s Messiah first played in London, it was not a hit. Some people thought a sacred work did not belong in a theater. Then the Foundling Hospital, a new home for abandoned children, needed help. Handel gave a benefit concert there in 1749, then in 1750 performed Messiah for the charity. It was so oversubscribed that wealthy supporters were turned away, and he had to repeat it two weeks later. From then on Messiah was performed every year for the children’s benefit, raising about 7,000 pounds. Handel even left a copy of the score to the hospital in his will. Some say without those orphans, Messiah might have faded. Generosity can give your gift a life you never imagined.
Dwight L. Moody came to Chicago selling shoes, dreaming of making a fortune of $100,000. But after he came to faith, it slowly dawned on him that his life should be spent helping people instead of piling up wealth. In 1858 he started a mission Sunday school in a Chicago slum. He drew poor immigrant children with candy and pony rides, and reached their parents through prayer meetings and English classes. By 1861 he had left business behind to focus on the work. Moody was convinced, “If you can really make a man believe you love him, you have won him.” People rarely care how much you know until they see how much you care.
Norman Borlaug grew up on a farm near Cresco, Iowa. In 1944 he took a job in Mexico directing a wheat research program, and he spent years in the fields crossing and testing wheat varieties. In time he developed high-yielding, short-strawed, disease-resistant wheat. Then he worked to get the new wheat planted in Mexico, India, Pakistan, and many other countries, and the harvests were huge. His work became the heart of what people call the Green Revolution. In 1970 he received the Nobel Peace Prize. He called his success only a temporary win in the war against hunger, and he kept training young scientists from around the world.
