When the Lottie Moon Offering was taken each year at our church, my father stood behind the back pew in the sanctuary, which accommodated more than 200 people, as various women’s circles and youth organizations voiced their individual totals in an orderly process. At the end of all the chalkboard notations, the chairman of the deacons would shade his eyes, look toward the back of the church toward my father and say, “Ed?”
