21 Cents

The following is a true story:

Barbara hummed along to the radio as she made her way down the winding road to her home. She was coming from Wal-Mart. It had been particularly hot this year, and she needed a pair of shorts. She liked to walk in the mornings before the weather became too unbearable, and had decided that shorts would be a welcome relief from the long, hot, workout leggings she usually wore.

As she drove along, she noticed some of the familiar landmarks…the old Carne’s grocery store, the Macintyre house, the Burke farm, and the church she had been a member of for the past 63 years, “Bennett’s Chapel.”

She knew this church like the back of her hand. She had raised her family there, was a lay leader, and was on the board. She had attended numerous weddings, funerals, and baptisms, not to mention the countless pot-luck community dinners.

Yes, Barbara was familiar with the comings and goings of Bennett’s Chapel, so when she noticed the strange car sitting in their parking lot, she became suspicious.

The car was old, had 4 bald tires, and was a mishmash of red and white panels which made up the body. Duct tape held the bumper and side mirror in place, and on the back rear passenger side, where there should have been a window, was cardboard… and more duct tape. The license plates were from Texas, and she wondered how it could have made the nearly 1500-mile trek to Virginia.

Inside was littered with papers, some clothes, and discarded food wrappers. Not knowing what else to do, she placed a call to the local sheriff’s office.

“I’m sorry ma’am, there really isn’t anything we can do,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “If the car is still there after a couple of days, have it towed,” she was told.

“But, don’t you at least want to run the plates?” Barbara asked. After all, what if the car belonged to some sort of criminal? The sheriff’s office again declined. Annoyed, she decided to wait the couple of days and see if the car would, in fact, need to be towed. It was just one more thing she would have to add to her growing To-Do list. “Why wouldn’t the sheriff’s office do anything about it? “How lazy they must be!” she quietly complained.

Once home, Barbara tried on her new shorts but was disappointed to find they didn’t fit well. She knew she should have tried them on at the store, but at the time, hadn’t felt like going through the hassle. She put them back in the bag, with the plan to return them the following weekend.

Throughout the evening, she thought about the car. Her imagination ran wild. She conjured images of dead bodies in the trunk, child trafficking, kidnapping, or a stolen get-away car, even though she doubted this car could “get away” from anything. She told her friends, her daughter, and her neighbors. Each of them responded with stories of potential scenarios.

The next morning while having her coffee, Barbara heard a voice in her head say, “Go return your shorts.” Knowing she had 90 days to make the return, and not planning to go to town until the following weekend, she pushed the voice away, after all, what was the big rush?

“Go return your shorts,” the voice said again.

With a bit of resignation, Barbara got dressed and drove to town. As she passed the church, she noticed the car was no longer there, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Arriving at Wal-Mart, she went to the counter and promptly returned the shorts. “Here you go,” said the cashier as she handed her the money, “twenty dollars and twenty-one cents.” Barbara placed the money in her front pocket and decided to look through the sale bin over near the register, hoping to maybe find something else she’d prefer.

As she sifted through the bin, she heard a voice behind her. “Excuse me, ma’am.” said the voice. Barbara turned to find a young man who appeared to be in his 20s. “I’m new to town and just trying to get some essentials, and I’m 21 cents short. Do you happen to have 21 cents?”

“Sure,” she said, reaching into her pocket. “You say you’re new to town, where are you coming from?”

“Texas.”

Barbara stopped cold. “By any chance, do you happen to own a red and white car?” she asked. “Yes,” came his reply. As they talked, she learned about his life and the tragic fire that had so cruelly taken everything from him, including the lives of his young wife and infant son. Without a family to speak of, she understood the challenges he was facing as he tried to establish a new life in a new town. Before leaving, she reached back into her pocket and handed him the remaining $20.

“Here, please accept this.”

“Are you sure?” asked the young man in disbelief. “I insist,” she said, pressing the bill into his hand. The young man was overcome with appreciation.

As Barbara walked to her car, she could feel the sting of tears on her cheeks. She was crying, not from sadness but oddly from joy. From the depth of the love she was feeling, she knew this encounter had been divinely guided. You see, she had been asking to experience God/Source in a more tangible way. She had been searching for deeper meaning, and connection. In that moment, she realized she was experiencing the Oneness she had been seeking, and she knew how privileged she was to have been chosen to help him. He had been guided to her, and she to him. To her, this was evidence of God in action and her feeling of gratitude was hard to contain. It was also clear that If she had gotten her way, and the sheriff had agreed to run the plate or tow the car, she might have been cheated of this miracle.

When Barbara relayed this story to me, I felt my own heart open and fill with joy, and I hope you felt it too. Every day, each of us is given the opportunity to experience God in action. We are the instruments through which miracles occur. We are the channels through which the love of the Universe flows, and whether we realize it or not, we are all connected.

Now, as Barbara goes through her day, she finds herself more aware of her choices, her thoughts, her judgments, and her actions. She looks for ways to be in service to others and continues to be amazed at all of the ways God/Source shows up- in the eyes of a homeless man, in a baby’s laugh, in a man asking for 21 cents, and in her ever, expanding heart. Namaste.