As I sat upon the bathroom sink while my mother was curling my hair, I cried as I usually did. I hated that painful situation caused by the “hot” being so close to my tender scalp. My father, troubled by the sound of my sobs as he was during this ritual, came into the room and handed me a shiny new penny.
My tears stopped instantly as I turned the shiny coin over in my hand, marveling at the way the light reflected from the contours of the surface. I looked at my father and smiled at him with my six lonely teeth, two of which had barely started to break the through the surface of my gums. “Thank you, Daddy!” I cooed at him in my baby voice, which was unusually articulate for a child of sixteen months.
I lovingly rubbed the penny between my thumb and forefinger thrilling in the sensation the texture brought to my fingertips. “Monies” were my favorite toys. They were far more exciting than even keys! Keys made that satisfying jingly sound when you shook them in your hands, but the shape of them was so awkward that they were far too easy to drop. “Monies” were light and easy to carry.
My mother gently sat me on the floor when my hair was done, and I took off running full speed towards my room looking for my tiny 4-inch toy purse to keep my penny safely in so that I could bring it to church with me. I had a brilliant idea of something new and exciting to do with my penny. I had seen the grown-ups in church every week putting “monies” into the shiny plate they passed around. I loved staring at the glow on the ceiling as the plate moved up and down the aisles. The idea, to me, sounded like a fun new game! I was always so creative with coming up with new ways to play with my toys, and in this game, I got to act like a grown-up!
When my parents said it was time to go, I came running out of my room and leaped into my father's waiting arms. As he carried me to the car, I was rubbing the shiny penny nestled inside my tiny purse and thinking longingly about the pretty glowing circles on the ceiling at church. After my mother got into the passenger’s seat of the yellow Volkswagen, my father handed me into her waiting lap.
As I rode to church, I heard my parents talking about some grown-up stuffs. Grown-ups have boring ideas of what's good conversation, so I don't remember what they said. I know I heard my name a few times, and something about a new brother, whatever that is. I must be getting a present, soon! Maybe it's almost Christmas!
I must have fallen asleep staring out the window trying to find kitties and puppies on the way to church, because the next thing I knew, I heard people singing. I opened up my eyes and saw the guy at the front of the church flailing his arms while people were singing. I loved that guy! He was so funny! I started flailing my arms like him and laughing while singing my ABCs, since that was a song I knew. I forgot some of the letters, but that was okay. I was having a blast!
Next thing I knew they started praying, and my parents shushed me gently. I bowed my head, closed my eyes, and folded my hands. I had that praying thing down pat!
When I opened my eyes again, it was snack time! Only the grown-ups get the snacks, though. What's fair about that? I can't wait to be a grown-up so I can have grape juice and crackers, too! My father gave me his grape juice cup to keep me quiet, and I licked up the droplets of juice that were left in the bottom before I began having a mini impromptu tea party with myself. There were prayers between the juice and crackers, but I wasn't paying attention. Since I was quiet enough, my parents let me have my fun.
When the third prayer started, though, I knew it was almost time for the game I was planning to start! I got quiet and bowed my head, closed my eyes, and folded my hands. I was saying quiet “thanks” to God that it was almost time for my new game. When the grown-ups said, “Amen,” I saw the shiny circles start to dance across the ceiling. I loved this part of church! I would imagine the circles were in a race, and I always wanted to see which circle was coming towards me!
At last, the moment of triumph. A man handed the plate to my father, and when he did, I reached into my purse, pulled out my precious penny, and placed it lovingly in the plate. I grinned with joy, and my father smiled back down at me.
Then, something happened that I had not anticipated. The plate moved away from me. With the plate went my cherished toy! “No!” I started wailing. “Monies!”
I repeated, “Monies,” over and over through my sobs. Everyone in the church turned to glare disapprovingly at my parents. My parents faces turned red under the stares of the congregation, and they ushered my bawling person out to the nursing room, as quietly as they could, as the bewildered populous looked on.
When my father calmed me down by giving me a new penny, he carefully explained to me what the offering plate was for. My parents lovingly and patiently explained to me the “monies” in the plate went to help people who don't have any “monies” so that they could learn about Jesus.
I felt puzzled at the concept, but understood that other babies needed monies to play with, too. Jesus is important, but the idea that someone didn't know about Jesus was foreign to me. I felt happy again as I realized that another baby would have a toy penny to play with because I put mine in the plate. After all, my father gave me a new money to play with. Maybe next Sunday, I will ask my father for another “monies” to put in the plate for other babies so that I can do it right next time.
This story was part of another school assignment. The students were supposed to write about a childhood experience where we struggled with misunderstanding a religious principle. We were supposed to blend humor and reality as we wrote a dramatized version of these childhood experiences, exploring the source of our misunderstandings and the feelings and fears our misunderstandings caused for us.
This was my favorite of all the mini creative writing exercises I ever had in school. The story blends a few different real events into the story about the time I freaked out about the monies in the collection plate as they moved towards and then away from me one Sunday morning at church. I don't know whether or not I had put something into the collection plate that day, but I chose to use a penny as my focal point in this story as a vehicle to explore my feelings.
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