Ten Dollar Blessings And A Lesson In Circles

A friend of mine, Terri, has a mother suffering from Alzheimer’s. It’s a terrible disease, one that affects not only the mind, but the heart and the spirit as well. Overcoming it is not an option. Enduring it is.

I sat in Terri’s office yesterday. She had a story to tell me. “About the ten dollar blessing,” she said. And it was so moving, I’d like to share it with you.

Terri and her mother spent a day last weekend together in Danville, Virginia, visiting friends and relatives in nursing homes. It was a long day, she said, being around so many suffering from the ailments that accompany a long life. But it was also a joyful day, being around so many resting from the comforts that accompany a joyful life.

The two decided to treat themselves to Mary’s Diner for dinner. Mary’s Diner is the place to eat in Danville. Buffet-style Southern cooking in the truest sense. (“They even put a hunk of fat meat in the green beans,” she told me). All you can eat for ten dollars. A steal.

So they ate and enjoyed the sort of company that only a mother and her daughter can. They reminisced and laughed and talked and tried to both remember and forget.

Halfway through the meal, Terri’s mother dropped her knife and fork onto the table. Her Alzheimer’s ha affected her ability to manipulate utensils, and she couldn’t process how to use them. Before Terri knew it, her mother had a handful of fried apples in one hand and a handful of corn pudding in the other.

“It was like having a three-year-old at the table again,” she said.

Terri moved, gathered up her mother’s fork, and began feeding her. Laughter and conversation went on uninterrupted.

Terri never noticed the older man dining alone in the booth across from them. Not until he rose, made his way over, and excused himself for interrupting their dinner. “I’ve never seen a daughter so full of patience and a mother so full of love,” he said. “It’d be an honor if I paid for your meal.”

He set ten dollars on the table in front of them, smiled, and left before Terri could wipe the tears from her eyes and thank him.

“You never know who’s watching, do you?” she asked me. “You never know what little thing you’re doing that could move someone. Or hurt them, I guess.”

That was true, of course. And also something I rarely consider that I probably more often should. After all, isn’t our greatest witness our life? Not the church we attend or how many verses we have highlighted or underlined in our Bibles, but the way we go about our days?

The story could end there, but it doesn’t. Because Terri and her mother now had ten dollars that they didn’t know what to do with. Paying for the meal wouldn’t do, she said. But what would? They decided the best thing would be to donate the money to the local food bank. Ten dollars bought four canned hams. Four hams for four families who would otherwise go without. And no one should go without, especially with Thanksgiving being so close.

That’s the story of the ten dollar blessing. They say that life is all about circles, about beginning and ending and beginning again. I think there’s something to that. Good parents like Terri’s devote years to their children, giving them comfort and help and an ease from their burdens. And when the circle comes back around, good children like Terri return the favor, not out of a sense of responsibility or to repay a debt, but out of love. And love endures what cannot be overcome. Even Alzheimer’s.

But there is another circle here that is just as important—the circle of blessing. A stranger sitting in the booth of a small-town restaurant felt blessed enough by Terri and her mother to pay for their meal. Terri and her mother in turn felt blessed enough by him to give the money to those in need. We are not the keepers of our blessings. Rather than hoard them, God wants us to use them to bless others. And that’s what Terri and her mother did. They continued the circle. Around and around and around.