A while ago, I wrote about. . . wait, I should acknowledge that it’s been awhile—I’ve been distracted with some writing projects and things like summer and the Real Housewives— but anyway, I wrote once before about finding pennies and coins in my path. It happens to everyone, the “lucky penny” found heads-up on the pavement, the random coin on the floor mat of the car. At first, I picked them up, pocketing them, not taking much note. But when I would turn my head for a moment, and turn back to spot a penny on the table, or find a shiny copper penny in my sheets, I started to think twice.
I would find dimes, too, and the occasional quarter, but mostly pennies and dimes. I didn’t think my children really thought much of my personal phenomenon, until they started saying things like, “Hey Mom, here’s your penny for the day!” We’d be walking in a college town, and they’d spy it first, the penny in front of the bookstore or the dorm. The Target parking lot, the baseball field. They all know better than to walk past “Mom’s daily penny,” because that’s what it sometimes is… daily.
I know that pennies drop from change purses and dimes fall from pockets. But when I lean on the ledge of the Village Inn for a photo with Jono in Gambier, OH, and there’s a penny by my arm, I smile, and drop it in my pocket. When I am cleaning Abby’s room, and I find a penny balanced on the edge of a drawer, I shake my head, and add it to my collection. I don’t want to admit that I found one, yesterday, on Sam’s bathroom floor in a pile of dirty laundry, not a pocket in sight, but I did.
What I am trying to say is. . . it hasn’t stopped. The only problem is, sometimes I don’t know how to determine which coins are MY lucky pennies and which were just, you know, left in the dryer for anyone to find.
I fully claimed the dime that washed up on the beach by my feet in the Bahamas, because I was looking for shells and found a coin. I have no doubt about the penny that I saw (but could not grab) as I was boarding a plane, because it was shining right under my feet as I was walking onto the aircraft. I know, it’s like the easiest place for a coin to drop out of a pocket, but I’m telling you, even though I just knew it was a “good luck, safe trip” coin, if I had grabbed it, I’d have been trampled by businessmen and wheeled carry-ons.
I wanted to dig a little deeper, and did some research (hello, Google) through some spiritual blogs and articles. While I would never try to convince any non-believers, I found myself comforted and validated by the following opinions that were shared more than once on the World Wide Web. . . .
On an occasion when an angel misses you, he/she tosses down a penny from heaven that you receive.
Typically, coins are contained (in wallets, pockets, purses) so when you see one in your path, it grabs your attention; coins also catch the sunlight so you spot them. A spirit can easily realign a few coins in your path without causing fear or harm.
Coins have value; they are put in your path to remind you of yours.
When I was mentioning this occurrence to my parents, my mom was intrigued. In fact, she has since sent me several articles about lucky pennies and “pennies from Heaven.” (Side note: for those of you who know my mom, the fact that she is sending articles is not a spiritual phenomenon, it is an everyday happening.) We talked a lot about who might be watching over me, sending me little messages. I have thought of my grandmothers, and I have two aunts who have passed, all of whom would be apt to check on me.
My dad was listening, and then very offhandedly remarked, “Your grandfather used to collect dimes.” He went on to talk about my grandfather’s way of rolling coins in the paper wrappers, but I was dumbstruck. Did he not know that he had just solved the riddle? That it was PopPop who had been dropping coins in my path?
It wouldn’t have been my first guess. My grandfather was a quiet man. So, so smart and very funny. Perhaps this is his way, now, of keeping our quiet, smart, funny conversation alive.
“Christa,” he is saying, “I’m not sure of the grammar you used in that last sentence.” He would be correct, no doubt.
74 pennies, 8 dimes, three quarters and one silver washer. And a $50 dollar bill.
The paper money was lying in the grass; I spotted it while I was walking the dog on vacation in South Carolina. I thought I was picking up a dollar, and was, of course, shocked. I did report it to the main office at the beach club; what if a kiddo lost his vacation money, or someone who worked on the island lost a big tip? But no one claimed it, so it was mine. I didn’t connect it to my heavenly messages at first, and maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m going to. Because things of value seem to be placed in my path, and perhaps my grandfather just REALLY WANTED TO SAY HELLO.
As it stands, I have collected 87 items. The current value I have been given (read as you like) is $52.29+ one washer. It’s difficult, though, to put a value on finding nuggets of gold, revealing a hidden treasure, unlocking a secret code. Mine all mine, screams my inner toddler, but not in a greedy way. It’s a joyful cry of, “Hey, do you really not see that penny? No? Oh, that’s because it’s meant for me.”
Be on the lookout for “yours all yours.” Whatever your signs and symbols may be. Your messages or tokens, your comfort givers, your peace beacons, because heaven is dropping pennies just for you. That sparkle in the path, that moment taken to reach for the luck, let it remind you that you are thought of, you are seen, you are valued.
“Don't pass by that penny when you're feeling blue. It may be a penny from heaven that an Angel's tossed to you.”
“In God we Trust” - the Penny
|The washer, and the Bahama dime|
|A couple cool pennies|