Change...
It's what you get back when you give more than is required. It rattles around between the couches of everyday life where we sit or stand or read or relax or just do the daily.
The debit card generation may not understand this. We slide the card for the exact worth of the thing and get nothing back. There's no counting money... no interaction necessary in the average transaction. Slip, slide, and away.
But we used to get change. We'd place a dollar on the counter for a 53 cent candy bar. The other person would take our dollar, count out the value of the product, then give us back our 47 cents: a quarter, two dimes and two pennies. We'd drop it in our pocket, walk away with a jingle, and eventually sit down somewhere, allowing the change to tumble from our pockets and find a home in the cushions of the family couch. Later, it would be found by the fumbling fingers of children, desperate for candy money (but not yet desperate enough to risk being offered funds in exchange for chores).
So the change would continue its journey, jingling in someone else's pockets, or rattling around in someone else's cars and couch cushions.
Change...
As a kid, I made my living off my father's change. "Here's ten dollars. Go to the store and get some _____________." And usually, the price of the item was far below 10 dollars.
At first, I wondered if my dad every really knew about change. I mean, if he had gone to the store instead of sending me, I'm sure he would have been shocked to find out how much he unknowingly invested in my comic book and candy bar addiction. Eventually, I figured out that he knew he had change. He was probably letting me keep it for reasons of his own. He didn't ask for his change back, and honestly, I never offered. We had an understanding. Even when he did go to the store, dad tended to leave his change all around the cab of his big brown dualie. It was like leaving bread crumbs for scavengers as I constantly raided the silver in his truck's ashtray.
However, when I look back, I see that leaving change behind was a way of life for him.
In a day where fathers are absent and children are second thoughts, I think about how my father tried to make sure that his traveling and work didn't keep him from being a part of our lives. Sometimes I wonder how I can have so many memories of my dad when I know he was often gone for long periods of time. I realize that, when he was home, he often gave more than necessary to us. So when he left, there was change around the house. Echoes of his laughter, wisdom, discipline and love hung in the air. He knew that, even though the situation may only need 50 percent, he should give 100. And after he left, there would still be change to live on until we saw him again.
Change...
My father passed away a few years ago. When he did, I wrote this about him...
"My earthly father has gone home to hang with my heavenly Father. And I can't think of two people in better company."
I miss him everyday. There is no man on earth that I have ever respected more. My dad was not perfect. He was a man with a third grade education, who overcame many of his own personal hangups and shortcomings to eventually build a business and help mom raise 14 kids, tons of grand kids and even great grand kids. He was a man who loved God and loved us; who took very little and made a lot. He spoke to paupers and princes with the same voice. He had one face, not two. Even if that was all there was to him, he would be a man worthy of respect.
But when I think of my father, I see a man dedicated to leaving change around... pieces of himself, valuable pieces that fell out of his pocket as he sat with us on the couch watching Bonanza or Gunsmoke. Or that rolled into the grass as we sat on the front porch talking about nothing and everything at the same time. It was everywhere. And we collected it and were able to use it in our own lives. Sometimes, we kids even shared the change with each other when we needed to get through tough situations. His words of wisdom were there for us to find if we were willing to get off the couch and do a little digging beneath the surface of our places of personal comfort.
So dad, thank you for giving us more than we deserved and letting us keep the change.As I live my life I will try to do the same. I will try to be a good husband, a good father, a good friend. When I leave, I want there to be change. So I'll take what you've given me, try to invest and spend it wisely. I want to give so much to those I love, that it is more than enough. And when they wonder what to do with what's leftover, I can say, keep the change. Use it on those you love.
Brad