The community where I live once held a rally during which everyone was asked to pledge varying amounts to beautify the “downtown” area, as we called it. They were asked to donate to specific projects: $100 for a tree, $25 for flowers for a flower-bed, and so on. One of the donations requested was $2,000 to improve the road. Looking at that sum, I thought, “No one will pledge such a large sum.” As it happened, I myself didn’t have any money for such a project. But I thought, “The roads do need improvement. So let me pledge that amount.” I had no idea where the money would come from.

Beyond putting my pledge in an envelope, I said nothing about it to anyone. The payment on it was due in two weeks. A week later — I still had no idea where the money would come from — I awoke one morning to find an envelope under my door. It contained a letter from a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time, who wrote, “I was just visiting here. My mother died a few months ago, and I’ve been wanting to give you something in her name, and in gratitude for help that you’ve given me through the years.” Along with his letter was a check for $2,000.