My grandmother was a pragmatist. She grew up poor and worked hard all her life. The only time I ever saw her pause from her sweeping, cooking, cleaning, scrubbing or sewing was when Live Atlanta Wrestling came on TV. She had no patience with anyone, mostly me, who tried to tell her those monumental battles of good vs. evil were staged. It was, as she put it, “just as real as roller derby.”

She was the archetype of a mountain woman. No one ever left her house hungry. Any ailment could be cured with either Anacin or Tums. The only make-up she ever wore was a touch of lipstick on special occasions. So I was curious when, one day, her bedroom vanity was suddenly covered in Avon products — talcum power, bath salts, lotions, perfumes and a half-dozen tubes of sticky red lipstick.

She explained that the Avon lady was going through a hard time. She was a widow with a little girl about my age. My grandmother knew she would never accept a hand-out, desperate though her circumstances were. She would, however, gladly sell my grandmother all the Avon products she cared to order.

And order them she did. I came to expect a bottle of Skin So Soft lotion or perfume in a decanter shaped like a teacup, basset hound, pineapple or some other unlikely design at every special occasion for years to come.

This was just one of the many times my grandmother acted on her core belief. The way she put it to me was, “You can’t do everything. You can’t fix everybody. But you have to do what you can.”

The other day I stopped in the Just $2.00 store on Washington Street to check out the bargains and pick up a few things. I started chatting with Kelly Withrow, the owner. As small business people are wont to do, we compared notes on how the season’s sales were going and we were both pleased to have positive reports.

I spoke of the Secret Santa and Angel Tree shoppers who have been coming to my resale boutique with lists of children’s clothing sizes and preferences. They seem to take such pleasure in making their selections. Bless their hearts, they’re doing what they can.

Then Kelly told of an incident she witnessed earlier in the day. A teenaged girl had been checking out when an older woman came in the store. The woman was the sort of person we see more and more these days. She had that beaten-down, defeated look that comes from the daily, unending struggle to simply get by. She moved slowly through the aisles, picking up items, putting some back, silently performing calculations in her head. Adding, subtracting, desperately trying to stretch an already over-taxed budget.

The young woman at the counter watched her for a moment and then approached her. “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said softly, “Would you please allow me to pay for your purchase? I’d love to do it.” The woman looked at her blankly, at first not comprehending. Then she burst into tears.

The young woman paid for the items and walked the lady to her car. Did she change that person’s life? No. But she gave her a small respite, a touch of hope. She did what she could.

Last year at this time, one of Gainesville High School’s brightest lights was extinguished when Patrick Kelley, a scholar, musician and friend to all he met, was killed in a car wreck on his 18th birthday. For the past year, everyone at GHS has struggled to come to terms with this unbearable loss.

Phalan Henry, one of his friends since childhood, has organized a blood drive in Patrick’s memory. It’s to take place Saturday at Grace Episcopal Church. That’s where scores of people, I heard estimates as high as 1000, gathered on the eve of Christmas Eve last year for Patrick’s funeral. I hope that many and more show up Saturday to honor his life and save the lives of others as a result. Thank you, Phalan, for doing what you can.

So, this season and throughout the year, let’s try to follow the lead of my mountain grandmother, the Angel Tree shoppers, that dear sweet girl at Just $2.00 and GHS’s Plalan Henry. Do what you can. If everyone does that, it’ll be more than enough.

Teressa Glazer is a Gainesville businesswoman. Her column appears biweekly on Fridays and at gainesvilletimes.com/viewpoint.