Recently my son wanted to buy something that he had saved up his money for. A lava lamp. And he had the cash for it. The only problem was that most of it was in change. So he filled his pockets with about ten pounds of coinage and we headed to the store.
Now, the easiest thing would be for me to put it on my debit card. With the few other items I of course needed. But I wanted him to own every bit of the process (and learn a thing or two about sales tax). So I glared at the people behind us who were muttering as my sweet guy counted out his change.All 14.99 + tax of it.
And he proudly took home his new lava lamp carrying it oh so carefully to the car.
Because it was his. He had bought it with his own hard earned cash.
One quarter, dime and nickel at a time.
I haven’t bought anything more than a cup of coffee with change in years. But in high school and college I used to do it all the time. I’d raid my dad’s change box and buy pizza. I’d gather up all the change in my cup holder for a new cd in college. But these days I just swipe my card and hope it goes through.
When I run into someone I haven’t seen in a while and they ask me what is new. I struggle.Because. Thankfully. The answer is not much. I have been married to the same guy, had the same career, lived in the same house, been the same size and had mostly the same color hair for a decade. Give or take a few. My age creeps up every year. And my kids change overnight. They wake up smarter and taller and with less teeth everyday. While I wake up and realize that the jeans I am pulling on are older than both my kids combined.
And there are changes that I really want to avoid. Like the ones other people make for me. Middle of the night phone calls. Test results. Cut backs. But other changes are necessary and good. And we should all be growing and changing, even if we are the same size and in the same place doing the same things with the same people. And I often feel that I am stagnant and stuck and that I am still struggling with the exact same things I was a dozen years ago. Which is sometimes why I do ridiculous teenager-y things like pierce my nose, or get a tattoo, or dye my hair some crazy color. The outside is so much easier to change than the inside.
But I am selling myself short, just like I would have done if I hadn’t let my son pay for his prize himself. All that little changed added up as long as someone was willing to take the time to count it.
Because sometimes progress, and growth and change comes in pennies and dimes and quarters. Like remembering to bring my re-useable grocery bags for a change. Not telling a secret. Not buying another shirt I don’t need. Waiting. Listening. Rinsing out my bowl.
And, next time someone asks me what’s new….I just hope they can wait while I count out my change.
and it has been a while but I am participating in this....