Every now and then, something happens that makes me think I’ve just been yanked up by the nape of my neck and given a good shaking.

It’s the same kind of feeling I used to get whenever my grandmother would say she was going to have to jerk a knot in me.

If there’s a simple explanation, it can probably be summed up in another of her profound sayings: that someone needed to have some sense knocked into them so they would realize how lucky they were.

A couple of years ago, I wrote an article about a man I consider the best handyman in the world — Mike Everett. But, the one thing that Mike doesn’t do is yard work. Although I had given it a number of tries, I had not been doubly fortunate when it came to finding someone who did.

My back door neighbor, Becky, was having the same problem. She had, however, found someone who had brought her a load of fresh, clean pine straw. When she was ready to get in touch with him again, she called to ask if I could use a load.

Greg Harris’ card reads simply, “GREG.” A cell phone number underlines the name while a colorfully dressed figure of a man is in the left-hand corner. He is holding a rake in one hand and a bucket in the other. A hose hangs over his left shoulder.

He has proven to be a match to Mike and has helped me and Becky on a number of occasions. On each of them, I have known that he packs up his truck and heads off to another job before calling it a day.

That’s why, several weeks ago, I was surprised when he rang my doorbell on a Saturday afternoon. He was wearing a hat, a long-sleeved white dress shirt, striped tie and clean, crisp jeans, which were obviously new.

He held in his hand a large brown manila envelope and a church bulletin from Poplar Springs Missionary Baptist Church, which is located at 1049 Addor Road and has a Pinebluff mailing address. The church was founded June 21, 1884. This year, it will be 127 years old and, as such, is in serious need of repair.

I was suddenly and deeply moved when he told me that, as one of its trustees, he was trying to raise $200 for the overall effort. He left with a modest check carefully placed in the envelope.

I’ve no idea how this subject came up when I was at Oak Island recently. My son, Mark, along with two of his friends, was down for a long weekend. I used the occasion to invite myself for a visit and overnight stay with my brother, Mike, and his wife, Jean.

We were all together for a late lunch on the last day. Mike said the “Riley Blessing” and concluded by giving thanks for some not already mentioned. The next thing I knew, I was talking about “The House of Prayer Where Everybody is Somebody and GOD is The Father of Us All.”

I was sadly and reluctantly back at home when, three days later, I received a note reading, “Thanks for telling us about your yard man’s church. What an inspiration! Love you, Mark.” A generous check was enclosed.

I had not told Mr. Harris how much the check was for when he came to pick it up, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he had started to put it in his envelope when I suggested that he take a look at it. I will never forget his response. “Praise the Lord” was all he could say.

At a time when virtually every solicitation I receive starts at a ­benefactor’s level, it’s heartening to know that someone has a humble cause that is truly deserving of “the widow’s mite.”

They are blessed as I am, doubly so.

Contact Southern Pines writer Lois Holt at lholt79@nc.rr.com.