January 7, 2010

We spent the holidays in Elma.

While we were there, I ran into the nearby Wal-Mart for a few necessities. I grabbed my purchases and, due to the long pre-New Year’s wait, found a self-check line to speed up the process.

The kids were in the car with their father, so I stood around relishing the tabloids, completely engrossed and oblivious to everything around me. This is a luxury most young mothers rarely get — peace at the grocery store.

After a few moments, the people in front of me caught my attention. They were trying to finish up their purchase, but seemed to be having some trouble.

“You need fifty cents!” I hear the man say to his wife.

“Well, all I have is a $50 bill, and I don’t want to break it!” his wife says back.

“Just break it and let’s get out of here,” he says, looking like a man who’s stuck with his wife at the grocery store.

Now, we’ve all been here. As president and active member of the Cash Only Club, I know exactly what happens when you break a 50-dollar bill. It’s like blowing the top off a dandelion. In no time at all, all those little bills get scattered to the four corners of your life, spent on less important and sometimes worthless paraphernalia that do not deserve to be associated with that original crisp, happy $50 bill.

No one should have to sacrifice a 50 for 50 measly cents.

“Wait!” I yell, reaching into the depths of my ridiculously large purse in an attempt to retrieve some of the coins my daughter so lovingly dumps out of my wallet on a regular basis to save the day.

The people stared at me, slightly confused and probably alarmed (because seriously, it took me way too long to cough up any coinage), until I finally pulled my winning, lint-covered fist from the debris. With all the ceremony I could muster (plus a little prayer that I wasn’t going to end up with all pennies) I held out for them … 35 cents.

Now, 35 cents is great, really. There are moments when 35 cents has saved my own little self from breaking a bill of greater proportions. But this time it wasn’t going to cut it.

“Wait!” I hear. I turn around just in time to see the older gentleman behind me digging around in his pocket, on a mission to supply the missing change. He pulled his hand out and there, on his palm, was a quarter.

“Hey, I’ll trade you one of my dimes for your quarter.” I reach into his hand, make him change and hand over the money.

The people thanked us, finished their purchase and went on their way.

But as I left the store, the lady was waiting for me at the door.

“Here,” she says, trying to hand me some change, “I found it in my car …”

“Stop!” I said, putting my arm around her as we headed back out to the parking lot, “It’s what friends do, and it was only 35 cents! Besides, I know exactly how it feels to break a 50. Once it’s broken there’s no putting it back together.”

“Well,” she says, “It’s been a really hard year for us, so thank you. That just … it just made me feel so good.”

Sometimes it isn’t about how much we give, but how we give it. People who are down on their luck need more than financial help, they need an arm of friendship, an empathetic shoulder. They need to feel like the people around them care.

And for me, that 35 cents was the best money I spent all season.

See more at Annie's blog at regardingannie.com