Pennies from Heaven

It's the day before N's First Communion, and I'm standing in the laundry room, washing, drying, folding, sorting, dropping, picking up, folding, sorting,.

Lamenting that so much of my life is spent in this room.

I think of my aunts--the nuns-- and my Aunt Catharine in particular. She would come visit and spend hours--days--in our laundry room. And it was way worse than this one to begin with, since in between her visits, no one folded or sorted anything in that room.

I remember hearing someone describe tasks like these as monk's work. I guess it was nun's work too. And mother's work.

I'm trying to get into monk mode. What is it monks think about when they do laundry?

Do they wonder how a brand new pair of pants could get so dirty so quickly?

How a shirt that fit perfectly last month is somehow already too small?

How it's probably a bad idea to keep trying to squeeze a two yr old into a shirt that no longer fits him, just because I can't accept that he's outgrown that size?

They probably don't think about these kinds of things.

But I do.

And then I think about First Communions. And about aunts who aren't here to celebrate. And grandparents who aren't either.

Evntually, I decide to think instead about all those who are here to celebrate, and make myself focus on laundry again. I start bringing it into the family room. It's easier to put it piles there. At one point, I drop a wash cloth, and go back to pick it up.

I fold it, and carry it--that single washcloth--into the family room.

A penny falls onto the floor from the bar nearby.

I stare at it, puzzled, wondering what made it fall.

Pennies from Heaven?

I think how ridiculous this thought is, and almost ignore the penny.

But then I think Well, maybe....

Maybe, if it's from the year I was born, maybe then, I'll know it's a penny from Heaven.

I start to pick it up, and then think maybe I should just not even look at the year. After all, it is certainly not going to be from the year I was born.

But then I think of other ridiculous things.

Things that couldn't be, and yet, they were.

Things that we think are impossible.

Until we see them with our very own eyes.

So I turned the penny over. Preparing to be disappointed, and laughing at myself, just a little.

Until I saw the year.

1972.

The year I was born.

We had a fabulous day.