Kirkepiscatoid

Here's something that many of you might never have fooled with in your entire life, but they are as ingrained in my soul as car keys--manual coin wrappers.

You have to remember my grandpa, for most of his adult life, ran a route of coin-operated jukeboxes, pinball machines, pool tables, and video games in rural NE Missouri. Everyone knew him as "the jukebox man." He often gave away used records as he swapped them out on the jukebox to the waitresses and bartenders. Little kids were frequently the recipient of free nickels, dimes, and quarters to "play the machines." (He was no fool; he knew they'd spend more money primed with that free coin!)

So growing up, these wrappers were everywhere--out in his shop/office, in the den, and wrapped in rubber bands in bundles in the floor of his station wagon. I didn't realize for a long time EVERYONE didn't have coin wrappers around the house. To add to it, he also collected coins as a hobby...so he was always sorting coins at coin auctions he had bought in bulk, culling out "good" ones, and re-wrapping the rest.

One of my more precious childhood memories of my grandfather (which, at the time was just "how things were" and I never thought much about it until he passed away) was sitting in his shop helping him wrap coins, and riding with him on his route to his various stops and helping him wrap coins. Also, off and on in my young adulthood, I worked for him, and learned to do these things solo.

I had probably started learning to wrap coins at about age six. It was hard for my little hands to get much in them, but I started learning how to catch them off the counter, squeeze my hand to make them all line up in a roll, set the rolls on the table, stuff the wrappers, and fold the ends. In reality, it was probably a really good manual dexterity tutor that has served my hands well.

I can't totally explain "why", but there was something tremendously satisfying about sorting and wrapping coins. First you dumped the bank bag out on the table. Then you made piles for each denomination. To this day, I can still tell you that pennies come in 50 cent rolls, nickels in $2 rolls, dimes in $5 rolls, quarters in $10 rolls, and halves in $10 rolls.

Next was to take a pile of one denomination and count off "half a roll" (well, less than half a roll when my hands were smaller) and line up the half-roll stacks on the table. Finally, you stuffed two stacks in a roll, and folded the ends with three folds. If you had an "odd roll" you folded the bottom with three folds and twisted the opposite end shut, then wrote the amount on the roll.

Sunday was our day at church to collect our money for the Waters of Hope campaign. (Be sure and click on the link in the previous sentence to see what that's all about, and please donate, if you feel inclined.) A few weeks ago, we were given little paper boxes (thanks to the efforts of our Sr. Warden and her husband) to fill with change every time we got a drink of water from the sink or the fridge or whatnot. We got several of these boxes back filled with change. I offered to roll up all the change. A couple of folks looked at me rather strangely; why didn't I just take it all to the bank? I kept going, "NO! (Dammit!) Let me do this! I WANT to do this!" I'm sure it seemed like a lot of work to them, but I could not possibly explain it in a way people could "get it" in a social conversation. Besides, I thought it would be nice to know the tally beforehand so we could have an idea what we've already raised when the bike riders raising money for this project arrived in Kirksville on Tuesday.

So I took the change home, sat at my kitchen table, and took a deep breath, as old memories started flooding back and I started happily making my little piles, then dragging off the flow of change into my hand. "Five, ten, fifteen, twenty," I thought to myself as I raked off the nickels five at a time. (Everything is five at a time except quarters, and those are four at a time and I count them off as dollars: "One, two, three, four, five.")

I thought about how quickly I got into an “old habit.” I like to brag that I am one of the fastest humans going when it comes to rolling up money and putting it in tube wrappers. There are so many simple joys for me in this action. I can still “feel” what $5 of quarters is in my hand, right down to THE quarter! I can still pull off the exact number of wrappers from a wad of them wrapped in a rubber band down to like one or two wrappers! I still rake off money fast, shuffle them into a roll in my hand fast, and stack them and put them in the tubes fast...and I only do this like once a year now.

Had there been a silver quarter or dime in that bunch, I would have "heard" it. You have to remember clad coinage came out in 1965. There were still a lot of silver coins floating around in circulation when I was a child. My grandpa taught me to hear the plaintive ring of a silver coin as it raked into your hand as opposed to the dull one of a clad coin. He taught me to look for "wheat pennies" vs. "Lincoln memorial" pennies. He taught me to find the tiny treasures in the pile of "ordinary." Once in a while, I still find a silver coin in change, and it's usually as I hear the jingle from putting it in my pocket. The ring of that silver coin is like angels singing to me, that I can still find this gentle little treasure without even looking for it.

The other thing that always gives me a mild grin is how dirty one's hands get rolling coins. You don't really think about that in a shiny pile of coins until you're finished rolling them. You have to get a little dirty to put things in order, you know? So I washed my hands and the table top, and enjoyed the new cleanliness of my hands.

My hour of rolling coins me realize something...this is no different than the habits I’m getting from my disciplines of my faith, is it? I am learning to spend time in prayer and not see it as “an intrusion in my day” or “something I have to work in my day.” Simply BEING a person of prayer is becoming a habit! Prayer sorts things. Prayer puts things in order in my life. The wear and tear of life leaves a little dirt on me and I can enjoy the process of washing it off.

I thought about how much I owe my grandpa for my money rolling habits, but it’s also “time I remember spending with my grandpa.” He didn’t do a single thing “deliberate” or “important” and yet it’s precious time in my mind now. He didn't say, "Hmmm. I think this is a good way for her to learn manual dexterity. I think this will be a fine bonding activity for my grandchild." He just did it b/c that was what HE was doing at the time, and frankly, it kept me occupied and out of his hair! Yet I am so incredibly grateful, now that he has passed on, to have just had that time, hanging out and "just being" with the task of his work.

I thought about how maybe I am starting to feel that way about God a little bit! Just a gratitude for being able to hang out with him, and a recognition this is “precious time.” Just "being." Just "hangin' out while he does his work." Just trying to "do what he's doin'." I thought about that six year old me, trying to roll coins in my little short hands, and not doing a terribly good job at it, and how probably to God, the things I do to "try to do what he's doing" are just as feeble, but with just as much intention, and at the very least, God must smile now and then at it, even if my attempts seem kind of puny compared to his.

To think folks wanted me to take those coins to the bank--look what I would have missed!