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By Steve Wessels
For Sara on her birthday
© November 1, 1997


I found a penny late last week,
and stooped to get that coin so meek,
then put it into Sara’s palm
with a touch of gentle calm.

I then recalled when as a child,
of coins so found and thoughts run wild,
wondering where, with whom they’d been,
wondering where they’d go again.

And as I grew my values ranged,
they became mere pocket change,
tossed in to a jar in the hall,
insignificant then to all.

All those coins we’d save and pray
for a special rainy day,
or we’d toss them in a bunch
for a special family lunch.

Most for a cent don’t give a hoot,
won’t pick it up to build their loot.
In kids’ hands, they’re gifts so cheap
o’er those mem’ries we now weep.

I found a penny again today,
gray with dirt and mixed with clay,
a glint of red in the summer sun,
so despised, by cars o’errun.

But this time as for it I reached
this poem was birthed,
God’s thoughts were breached.
I thought of Sara’s troubled frown
with heavy heart and soul cast down.

Did she recall that time last week,
we went to the store for grocery treats?
Remember when on the ground it lay,
that simple coin came into play?

The coins I’ll find you o’er the years,
will be prayers for you with tears.
Each prayer will be the Lord’s delight,
sweet sound to Him, a worship sight.

Toss’d into a pile, they’ll chime,
keep them there as proof in time,
of our hopes and prayers to Him,
and our faith in His sweet whim.

Each coin I find to you I’ll bring
when wedding bells in our ears ring.
I’ll walk you down that aisle someday,
with tears of joy, as anthems play.

Seek His face of joy and mirth,
put His choice in your heart first.
Choose His plan amidst the pain,
turn these coins into great gain.

Trust in Him, my dear sweet girl,
let your soul to Him unfurl.
Trust in Him, He holds the key
to love and peace eternally.

Each coin so found can be a prayer
for daughters here and everywhere.
What was for Sara a moment sweet
becomes for all a blessing treat.


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