Cleora’s Purse

I sat busily writing one Monday morning. My little daughter, a child of seven, came into the room prepared for school. Evidently she had something on her mind, some very important request. That was made plain by the twist of her small body, and the very persuasive smile on her sweet, young face.

“Mother, did you notice that beautiful purse that Marguerite had at church yesterday?” she asked. I had noticed it, for Cleora had held it really all through the service. “I think it is the most beautiful purse I ever saw. It is just the right size for a little girl. Mother, I want a purse like that,” she said eagerly.

“That was a nice little purse, and I suspect it cost a dollar,” I said with a little warning in my voice.

“Mother, you always like to get me things that make me happy, and a purse like that will make me happier than anything I could have. A dollar isn’t much, Mother, and I want it so much,” she pleaded.

“La, la,” I said to myself, “a dollar isn’t much! You shall learn, my little girl, how much a dollar is.”

“I cannot buy you a purse at once,” I said thoughtfully, “but I’ll tell you what I will do: I will make a plan that gives you certain things to do each day, and every day you do them without being told I will give you a penny, not for pay, but as a reward for being thoughtful. And, on Saturday, if you have got a penny every day since the Saturday before, I will give you a dime as a reward for being thoughtful for a whole week. But each day that you forget to do your work, you must give me a penny, and on Saturday you will not get your dime.”

“Oh, you dear, dear Mother! I knew you would let me have my purse. I have three pennies already, and I shall soon have a dollar. I want my new purse to wear with my new dress next Sunday,” said the happy child.

“No, child, do not expect to have your purse by Sunday. But on Saturday we shall go down and find the purse you want and price it, so that you will know just what you are working for,” I said encouragingly.

That was in April. In August she came to me saying, “Mother, I have decided not to buy a purse. A dollar seems to be such a lot of money. If I may have my money I can buy something else with it.”

“No, dear,” I said quietly, “I am sure you want a purse as much as you ever did, only you are tired of working for it. Let us go on and finish what we have begun. That purse will seem all the nicer when you get it.”

It was a sunny day in October when there were one hundred little brown pennies in the little box she kept them in, and we could go down and buy the purse. “What a lot of money a dollar is!” she said wonderingly as she looked at her treasured store. Oh, the toil of earning that money! Many the day that something was forgotten, and she had grudgingly gone to her little savings and brought me a penny forfeit, and too few the Saturdays when a bright silver dime went into the box. But the dollar was at last all there.

I shall never forget the look of triumph with which she carried off her precious purse, nor the pride with which she exhibited it to her friends with the boast, “It cost a whole dollar, and I earned it myself,” and perhaps the added remark, “A whole dollar is a lot of money.”

Never did I hear her say again that a dollar was not much, and from that time forward we could talk sensibly together about the prices of things we wished to buy. She learned early how much a dollar is.

[Mabel Hale; Stories of Home Folks]

This story may not seem to apply to many young girls without families and children of their own. In our age-segregated society, we often read only things that seem to meet the present need. Young people are making decisions about college, jobs, ministries, courtships/companions for life. Naturally that’s what they want to hear about. But in a few years, these decisions will be behind them. Others will take their place: how do you ever get enough money to put a down payment on a home while raising a family? How do you make the grocery bill stretch? How can you get quality clothing on an already tight budget? (Even if you can sew dress reasonably, little boys’ overalls are so expensive!) How do you satisfy your children’s “wants,” and subdue the natural greediness mentality? These questions and hundreds more will come flooding in just a few years. There is so much we don’t know. Surely it would be wise to learn as much as possible in the time of youth!

As a child, I was naturally a very greedy “wanter”—especially for dolls. Every baby was beautiful—and needed me for a mother. My parents had quite a time subduing my spendthrift desires. My wants were usually quite expensive (well over a dollar!), and I had no idea of the value of money. Setting about to teach me, they had me work to earn whatever I wanted. At five years old, I wanted a baby doll that cost $45. It took me two years to earn it, by washing dishes at 20 cents a stack, and other odd jobs, but I did it, and am here to say, that “Roseanna” was one of my most treasured and valued childhood possessions. I loved my other dolls, but somehow Roseanna was special. Other dolls and toys got a head full of scratches and became worn out from carelessness, but Roseanna is still in good shape today.

We don’t do our children any favor by giving in to their every want. I did not get every doll I saw. (My bedroom would have been nothing else!) Too many times, I see parents, busy with work and laden with guilt, shove materialistic things at their children to compensate. Aside from the fact that children want Mamma and Daddy, not toys, this wrecks their ability to appreciate toys because of the abundance of gifts. It gives them absolutely no sense of value; it also creates the selfish view that the world owes them a living. I often see children, aged eight, nine, or ten, who are so greedy, it is incredible. I think, “My, how in world did they ever get to be so thoughtless?” But when I remember their parents, it all makes sense—their parents foster the natural greed, thinking that was love, and it just took off from there.

A couple years ago, we purchased our eight-year-old an American Girl doll: Felicity. We hoped the historical aspect would encourage her to become more interested in history and reading. Her mother had let the television raise her until age five (when we found her), and she had been struggling to have enough imagination to play normally. We hoped this would help. Along with that we purchased a few other accessories, knowing that she needed all the props she could get. We prepared her over a number of months after first introducing the idea, hoping the value would increase in her as the wait lengthened. And we were delighted with how she responded when the coveted doll came at last. She played with her as I encouraged, and began to act more like a little girl than a television mimic. And then came the day I found Felicity outside on a swing, right where she had been left the night before. I marched inside where I met a horrified little girl. For yes, it had rained last night. Felicity, the $89 dollar doll, had spent a soaking night. We managed to restore the doll to her almost new condition, except for one thing. The almost life-like hair was much rougher, very coarse, though still manageable. Was it possible to teach children to value their things?

Months later, she approached me with the American Girl catalog in hand and desired to have an item to go with Felicity. I examined it. Did she need it? It would probably enhance her play (which she needed). Was it within a reasonable price? It wasn’t that bad, for the quality of the item. I considered the pros and cons.

We pay the children for odd jobs they do—not their own responsibilities, such as feeding their rabbits, but for extra help in the garden, or washing dishes other than their own. I knew she had some money. So we counted and found she had about $1 in change. It was agreed she could buy the item desired when she had earned the amount. We roughly set a goal for $20, since most things in that catalog were about that price. Months went by. She saved and saved. Many times she wanted to buy this or that small item. We reinforced over and over that she could spend all her money on little things or save it all for one nice item. At the beginning of this December, she came to me with shining eyes and her little box full with $20 of green bills and change. We looked through the catalog with her, discussing each item together. The thing she most desired was a horse for Felicity. It stood almost two feet high, was in right proportion to her doll, and had beautiful, quality hair and features. I knew it was the thing she would probably use the most with her doll. However, the price was three times the price she had saved.

It was almost Christmas. The children looked forward to giving to and receiving gifts from each other at that time. I hadn’t really had something in mind for her, so we asked her if she wanted the horse enough for it to be all her Christmas present as well as the thing she earned. She had to think about that one for awhile. I knew she looked forward to opening presents with the rest, but she was old enough (almost ten) to make her decision. Finally she decided, and together we ordered her horse! A week went by and the package came while she was at school. I put it away and had to become quite clever at answering her questions as to when the horse would arrive. Finally the day came when we celebrated Christmas. When Richelle opened the large package, her eyes nearly popped out of her head! The horse was so lifelike in every feature; it was quite incredible. Delicate, long hair blended beautifully with a penny-colored coat. She was quite fascinated, to be sure!

I watched carefully to see how she would treat her new possession. Would this be like her Felicity doll—loved, but not entirely valued? It was not. With utmost care she placed her horse back into the Styrofoam packing and box when she finished playing, and does so each time. She is careful to keep the box away from the little ones’ play areas. This done, and no coaching from me! A few days ago, I allowed her to have a couple of girls over to play for an hour or so. When she brought out her horse, I heard her say, “We have to be careful with Penny, because she is very valuable.”

Training pays off! Maybe we don’t see the results right away, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.

—The Editress