Canada’s
decision to do away with the penny reminds me of some pennies I once purloined.
From God.
I
was still a preschooler when, each Sunday morning, my dad would give me two
pennies to drop in the offering plate. It made me feel like part of the church
family to make my own contribution, even though I’d done nothing to earn the
money.
One
Sunday I watched as the plate passed down the rows of adults. I noticed the
occasional person simply passing the plate without contributing, or gently
shaking their head at the usher to indicate empty hands. It occurred to me the
offering was optional.
It
also occurred to me that if I were to hold back my pennies and save them, I
could buy myself a treat. Five cents was enough to buy a chocolate bar; ten
cents would procure a bag of chips. Yes, I’m that old.
As
much as I would love to blame one of my big brothers for planting this sinister
idea in my impressionable little mind, I suspect it got there all by itself. I
began to implement my plan. When the usher came by, I shook my head “no” like
I’d seen the grown-ups do and kept the pennies in my little red purse. Each
week, I stacked them higher on a shelf in my bedroom, no doubt rubbing my
greedy little hands together like Dr. Evil and congratulating myself on my
cleverness.
One
night when Dad came to tuck me in, he noticed the growing stack of pennies, now
up to six or eight. I must have been holding out for the bigger prize of chips.
Delayed gratification began early in my family.
Photo by my friend and photographer extraordinaire, Gayle Loewen |
“Where
did you get the pennies?” Dad asked.
“Um.
I don’t remember.”
“Sounds
like you’re having a little memory trouble. Did you forget to put them in the
offering?” Like he didn’t already know.
I
might not have slept much that night had I known the story from the New
Testament about the married couple who sold some property, gave a portion to
the church, and agreed to tell others they’d donated the entire amount. Their
story does not end well. (You can read it in Acts chapter 5.) Though they had
every right to keep some of the money, their lying and conspiracy got them in
deep enough trouble to be made a disturbing example of.
Dad
was far gentler. Eventually, I fessed up. We talked about the plans I’d made
for the money and Dad explained how it belonged to God and had come my way only
by grace in the first place. I’m certain Dad didn’t realize he was giving me an
accurate picture of my heavenly Father. Like Jesus did with the woman caught in
adultery, Dad did not punish or condemn. His “go and sin no more” message got
through, and I knew I was loved.
I
wish I could say I never dreamed up another naughty scheme in my life. My
schemes only grew more sophisticated with age. But each time I fail, I know
where to turn for forgiveness.
Just
think. If I’d kept up my deceptive hoarding, I’d have over fifty bucks stashed by
now. That’s a lot of pennies! Before they’re gone for good, I think I’ll stack
a few pennies on a shelf as a gentle reminder. For even if it were a million
dollars, it could never begin to replace the lesson Dad taught me that day: genuine
treasure comes in the form of mercy, love, and grace.
Gorgeous, witty, and so so human.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Michael!
DeleteYour dad was a very wise Father. What a great story to send our pennies out with :)
ReplyDeleteHe was, and I miss him. Thanks,Sue.
Delete... best one yet Terrie.
ReplyDeleteAww. Thanks, Doug.
Deletetime well spent writing this one Terrie. And we didn't have to pay you a penny for your thoughts!
ReplyDeleteNettie