Not Always What They Appear To Be

Things aren’t always as they appear at first glance. Take a guest entering with some really ugly pies, change found lying on the floor, a cornucopia on a Thanksgiving table, or some very strange plinking in the middle of the night. Individually they may be inedible, lost things of little value, or just strange plinking. But, look again, and they may actually be wonderful.

As I was telling my daughter good night a few nights ago, she asked about something her grandparents had done that was exactly the opposite to what I usually require. I explained that is what is wonderful about grandparents. They soften up the world, leaving the discipline to mom and dad, while they are a source of happiness and escape.

I went on with stories from when I was small and my mother would be angry at me and I would run to the phone and tattle on her to my grandmother. No matter what trouble I had caused, my grandmother would listen and promise to reprimand my mother. If she didn’t answer the phone, I would run outside and bellow her name down the highway hoping she would hear me from over 3 hours away. My father would always tell me she could, so I would continue to bellow. It kept me in the front yard for awhile and out of their hair for a little bit longer, so he always told me to holler away. I still tend to be rather loud and bellow a lot, but usually it involves my husband being close by. My mom and dad, I am sure, appreciated him taking their place in the times where I felt the need to bellow.

Upon leaving my daughter’s room, I stepped on something cold. Reaching down, I picked up a dime. It was just a dime. Someone probably dropped it. But I hadn’t noticed it walking in, and I have often read that coins are the markers of Angels. I don’t know why they can leave coins as a sign. Maybe because, even in heaven, they realize money is really important on earth, or maybe because coins have pictures of dead guys on their fronts. But I knew when I stepped on it that it wasn’t simply just a dropped dime. But maybe my grandmother had been close in ways more than just in my thoughts. I picked up the dime and went downstairs with a smile. And I hadn’t even needed to bellow her name.

Later that night I awoke to a plinking sound. At first I thought it was water, then it sounded like screws being dropped in a jar. As I continued to hear the noise, I wondered what my night owl son was up to. Was he maybe fixing the fan? Or replacing the vent covers? I had no idea why he would do either one in the middle of the night. He had been very stressed over finals and maybe with great stress he had entered the realm of bizarre and was replacing the bathroom fan at two in the morning.

Getting out of bed I went out to investigate, to find a very smiling young man, happily watching TV while sorting his pennies to place in his book. After each date was read, it was plinked into a jar. Not at all the bizarre scene I had thought. Rather than having to attack him with a straightjacket, I was able to sit for awhile and share some TV as mother and son. Heading back to bed I did request less plinking. But he questioned how else he was supposed to toss pennies into a jar? Pausing to think, I shrugged, and went back to bed with a pillow on my head.

And our dear family friend, enters at Thanksgiving with two horribly ugly pecan pies. Telling us they are just ugly, but quite good, he proceeds to sit down and eat my cornucopia made of bread. It’s not supposed to be eaten.

But leaning back in my chair on Thanksgiving night, I see my smiling husband raving over ugly, but delicious, pecan pies. I see his friend eating my not-to-be-eaten cornucopia and declaring it was even better than last year’s. I see my mother and father gathered round my table with my children, and my eye catches the shine of a quarter dropped on the floor. Not everything is exactly what it appears to be at first glance. But, look a little deeper, and it is day full of happiness and a year worth many thanks.