I had a birthday last week. It was a very rough week, but not because it was my birthday.
I am about to start all over again. I'm already exhausted and haven't even begun. I'm tired of starting over. This is my second round at this and I still haven't learned my lesson.
When I was a kid, I collected money. You could say I was a hoarder. Every nickel, dime and penny was coveted and saved for the future. I would stay at home rather than go to an event with the family if it meant saving my money. I would count my money every night. And then recount it and dream of my future.
Somewhere along the way I started giving my money to other people. It felt so good to help people and see the smiles on their faces. They needed it more than me or so it seemed. Sometimes I gave it away even when they didn't want it, like buying a friend lunch or sending money to a troubled relative.
Only now, I don't have any pennies.
Awhile back, my young son heard me talking about not have any pennies and needing to pay bills. He walked up to me, his tiny little fist holding a handful of pennies. "This is for you Mommy," he said, "I'll help you. This is yours."
Even though I'm starting over again, I covet other things now. The health of my family, the love of family and friends and my sweet, sweet boy.
And those pennies.