A Mite-y Reminder

For those of you who keep track of such things, Christmas in July is right around the corner. (Just 44 shopping days!) I jest a little, but there are people who celebrate Christmas in July. One of them lives in my house, and each year, she makes frozen hot chocolate, and we watch a Christmas movie (or two).

Believe it or not, there is a history behind this little “holiday”, the majority of it is marketing, which “encourages” consumers to shop during summer sales. However, the first mention of it that I could find was from 1894 in a French Opera. In it, children are practicing Christmas songs in July, which elicits a response from one of the characters, “When you sing Christmas in July…”

The next time it drew any real attention was the 1940 movie named “Christmas in July.” Still, there are some families for whom this is a huge tradition, and they even prepare a huge feast similar to what they would do in December.

Imagine if you lived in (or visited) the southern Hemisphere during July and could celebrate a wintry style of Christmas.

Why am I writing about Christmas when we haven’t even passed the summer solstice, Independence Day, and the really hot weather? This week, I wanted to set a bit of a tone for a story that happened a few years ago during Christmas.

I was sitting in a coffee shop, having a cup of tea, and trying to focus enough to write. It was a struggle, both from a writing perspective and personally. At that time, I was wrestling with and questioning not only my identity but also my life direction. While I was sitting there, trying to think of where to take a story. An older gentleman walked up to me and introduced himself as George. I introduced myself and shook his hand. There was a little bit of small talk, and then he said, “You know last year, Santa Claus gave me several rolls of pennies. Kind of a strange gift, right?  Well, he made me promise that I would give them away, and I want to give you one of them.”

With that, he reaches into his shirt pocket and puts a single penny in my hand. I turn it over a couple of times looking at it and not thinking much about it. George asked me, “What is the year on it?”

“1928.  It’s a wheat penny,” I replied.

After staring off to the side for a moment he looks back at me and says, “I’m giving you that penny to let you know that God loves you and hasn’t forgotten you. He’s still here.” We chatted for about a minute after that, and after saying goodbye and telling me to “Have a Merry Christmas,” he left.

In the gospels, Jesus is sitting across from the treasury of the Temple in Jerusalem. After observing that while wealthy people were giving large amounts of money to the treasury, a widow put two mites into the collection box. (A mite, also known as a Lepton, was a copper or bronze coin that was the smallest and least valuable in Judea.) Jesus drew His disciple’s attention to her actions and said, “This poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others.”

I’m not going to dig into the scholarly interpretation of the passage, the social implications, or any of that. Instead, I want to point to a different perspective-

After watching the widow give what she had, Jesus commented about the value of her gift. A tiny pair of coins was, in that instance, more valuable than the larger contributions.

After George left, I stopped what I was working on, looked at the penny, and began to cry, because at that moment, out of the blue, it was what I needed to hear. It was a small thing but a mite (read Mighty) statement that even in the darkest of moments, even on the most difficult parts of the journey you may be on, remember: “God loves you and is still there.”

I still have the penny, and I carry it every day in my pocket. I am careful not to spend it because it means more than one cent to me. As I have said before, we live in a very negative world. It’s designed to wear you down, and many of the people we encounter every day are worn out, weary, depressed, discouraged, or some combination of all of these. I encourage you to dig out a couple of pennies from your pocket. Go give one to someone with a similar message that George gave me. It may become more valuable to them than you think. That’s my two cents for today.

We’ll talk again. Don’t die.