A strange thing was occurring. On days I counted the offering, at random a two dollar bill would appear among the money. I hadn’t seen one since my coffee can days in Michigan. My mind immediately reached for the bill and exchanged it for two, one dollar bills I had in my purse. To me, that two dollar bill was as auspicious as the lotus flower in Buddhism. 

 

By Holly Herring

Symbolism has always hung heavy in my life. That is why I have a giant fistful of two dollar bills in my possession right now.

When I was a young girl, after my family left the farm I had lived on as a really small child, I lived in a regular big city in Michigan. At this point in time I was in third grade and my mother worked in a bar. It was a dingy, dark, hole-in-the-wall bar with a regular cast of characters. I spent a great deal of time there. 

It was illegal for me to be in this bar, being a child and all, and there wasn’t much for me to do. My mother started letting me take on small duties in the bar. She taught me how the bar glasses were washed and I loved washing the glasses. The main reason was because when the elder male patrons of the bar would see me behind the bar washing away, they often slid me a shiny quarter.

In addition to my quarters, my mother would let me choose a bag of chips that were kept clipped to a metal display rack. I favored the cheese popcorn bags most of all.

I was learning how an economy worked inside that ratty old bar.

Another task I took on was sweeping the cooler. This only happened when something concerning was happening inside the bar. If there was something happening that might bring in authorities or that would get child welfare involved—I was sent to “sweep the cooler.”

I actually really enjoyed the cooler chore. I got to see the light come in from the front of the bar when the bartender would open it up to grab a cold bottle of beer on the other side. I got to see the beer get pulled out from the view of the bottle itself. That tickled me to no end. But there was another reason that I enjoyed the cooler chore. 

Sweeping the cooler was a pretty big job; I felt it was more important than washing bar glasses. In hindsight, I was probably wrong about that. But third-grade Holly wasn’t that concerned with the cleanliness of glasses. After I was brought out of the cooler, my mother usually gave me money. 

But not just ANY money.

We were close to the Canadian border and accepted Canadian dollars as well as US. If there was a Canadian dollar in the register, she would give it to me after completing a big chore. Canadian money was so much better, to me, than US money. There were beautiful colors and pictures of people I didn’t know from reading my school books. I could study them for hours.

The other thing that came in regularly was two dollar bills. Why? I have no idea. They just did. I loved them because they seemed rare to me. I remember the first time she gave me a two dollar bill. It was a confusing day for me. 

Something she didn’t quite understand happened to little Holly in that bar one day while she ate pizza with some of the elder male patrons at a table. In reporting the event to her mother, she got a response that didn’t quite add up with what people in after school specials and teachers in gym class said would occur. Instead, Little Holly was told to sit at a different table if she was uncomfortable and handed a two dollar bill from the register. 

That scene has played out in my mind hundreds if not thousands of times in my life since. The night of the two dollar bill was kind of a turning point in my child labor days at the bar. It was the day I grew up and knew that I was the grown up responsible for taking care of little Holly. I was now paid two dollar bills for that large chore. 

I stopped being such a playful child then and began a road into serious adulthood.

I continued to collect two dollar bills and watched out for myself around bar patrons, especially one in particular. I saved my hard earned bills in an empty coffee can. Eventually that can of money disappeared but the lesson remained. 

There was a time much later in my life that a troubling event, very similar in nature, occurred to me. It shook me up more than when I was a child but the offense was also more severe. I started spending a great deal of time at my spiritual home in the aftermath and took on new duties. One of the duties was counting the contents of the offering basket. 

A strange thing was occurring. On days I counted the offering, at random a two dollar bill would appear among the money. I hadn’t seen one since my coffee can days in Michigan. My mind immediately reached for the bill and exchanged it for two, one dollar bills I had in my purse. To me, that two dollar bill was as auspicious as the lotus flower in Buddhism. 

The two dollar bills kept appearing in the offering basket, week after week, as if they were placed there just for me, and I continued to buy them.

The auspicious symbol of the lotus flower is a sign of overcoming trials and challenges. In the murky, muddy waters this lovely blossom arises, as if out of nowhere, and reminds the world that beauty does not have to be overcome by ugliness. The two dollar bills I was slowly collecting reminded me that I did not need to feel defeated. I looked at my two dollar bills as my own auspicious symbol of overcoming.

And I was amassing a whole collection. 

But I had not seen the last of the two dollar bills.

Years later I was to find myself, once again, contemplating my own security. I felt tormented and did not know how to muster up the courage to take care of myself. When my logical brain kicked back in, I hurriedly started throwing essential belongings into a bag. I opened a drawer and there was a stack of my two dollar bills. 

This was a sign. 

I knew that this meant I was on the right track and that fueled me to take the necessary next steps. I grabbed my two dollar bills, my dog, and my bags… and then I drove far away. 

I often joke to cover up the seriousness of a situation. It’s my way of speaking an uncomfortable truth without feeling its full impact. One of my painful, yet truthful, little jokes is that if I had a mudra of my own it would be the middle finger and if I had an auspicious symbol…..

It would be the two dollar bill. 

 

Photo: Pixabay

 

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Were you moved by this story? You may also want to read:

Freedom From Suffering

The Darkness that Embraces Light: My Immersion in Japa

 

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Holly Herring
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