This morning, just before I started writing this post, I was reading an article on faith. The author asserted that there are only two ways of looking at existence: either everything is a coincidence, or nothing is. This seemed like a perfect introduction to this post and to be fair, I respect whichever side you believe.

Gail, Suzanne and I remember vividly that Mom and Dad always had a bank on the kitchen windowsill where they saved dimes. This started out as a vintage metal Co-op can/bank, and evolved into a Tootsie Roll Bank, the foot-long cardboard ones that the Knights of Columbus used in their Tootsie Roll drives after Mass to collect money for individuals with intellectual disabilities. Dad was an active member, and we often ended up with the bank after the drive ended each year.

This is similar to the bank they had, Gail found it at an auction. We are not sure where the original one is. None of us have a Tootsie Roll bank, but this online image represents theirs.

In their honor, both Gail and I now have our own dime banks. This is hers, and she uses the savings for gambling money on our Colorado trips, she reports:

I actually have two, my first one is a very plain coffee cup. When I fill it up with dimes from change, I spend it on (another) piece of jewelry (that I don’t need). None of us could remember what Mom and Dad spent their dimes on.

My second one, however, is a special sort of dime bank. It sits next to their picture for a good reason. Before I explain why, however, I need to direct your attention back to a post from long ago.

The Magnificent Seven (11/11/18) details the story of the six sisters who travel together annually to new destinations across the country. Their travel tradition is noteworthy and admirable, as they prioritize it, making it happen without question every year. If you don’t re-read it, let me just summarize its significance: In the stripped-bare house where they grew up, right after their mother’s funeral (their dad had already passed) and right before it was set to be bulldozed (they literally stopped the wrecking crew for a few moments), they found a rosary. None of the sisters recognized it as their parents’, and only one family had lived in the house after them, and they weren’t Catholic. They took it as a sign from their parents.

There were more signs. Several of the sisters had already randomly began receiving pennies from heaven, as one of them called them. So, when they found a dime on the dresser of one of the houses they rented on their vacations, they called it a dime from Heaven.

And thus, it began for me.

Shortly after I wrote the draft for that blog post, I vacuumed my bedroom. I hadn’t yet posted it, so I was able to include this in the post, but didn’t include the part about the vacuum, because I didn’t think anyone would believe me: I walked through my bedroom, and there was a dime lying on the floor. Right after I vacuumed. That dime sits on the frame of their picture. Next to the picture is a decorative pottery cup that holds all the dimes I have found since that day. I now am brave enough to post that, and to state this fact about my beliefs: nothing is a coincidence.

It should be noted that our parents knew their parents.

It seems these dimes are Mom and Dad’s preferred method of communication to me, but not as much for Gail and Suzanne. Gail says she finds a few dimes–more than any other coin–on the floor of the grill/bar she manages, but that’s the extent of it for her. No major dime finds for Suzanne.

Gail’s daughter Abby, however, seems to be on the same divine dime communication wavelength as me.

We share our dime find stories over the phone and by text, including the following from her:

The last picture was from Suzanne’s daughter, apparently she received one as well.

I took a trip to Florida with a friend in January. I am a chicken in the air, I have made this quite clear. I go, but I have to work to stay calm. On the jetway, while waiting to board the first flight, there was a dime lying on the floor. Picking it up, I felt calmer.

While in Florida, we went to the Publix grocery store, and it happened to be on Mom’s birthday. On the floor at the checkout was a dime. She was with me that day, too.

The last weekend of December, while we were still celebrating Christmas, I took my usual morning run/walk. Christmas, I fear, will always be the hardest holiday, no matter how many years pass. This year was no different.

I rarely veer from my daily three-mile outdoor path, but on Saturday of that weekend, I turned south for an extra half-mile along the highway before turning around and heading north back home. There, alongside the highway, as if I was led there, was a dime.

On Sunday morning, I detoured through an empty circle drive along my normal path. In the gravel, just waiting for me, was a dime.

My Christmas weekend was brighter when I found the dime Saturday morning, and after this find on Sunday, I felt them both with me at that difficult time. Nothing is a coincidence.

Perhaps the most divine dime yet was the one I mentioned in my last post. On March 4th of this year, on the 17-year anniversary of their deaths, I went to the top of Coronado Heights near our small city with my son and his wife to be Closer to Heaven, which is my new quest on every March 4th from here on out.

On the way back to the car, right in my path, was this dime.

They were with me that day, too. They are always with us.

***************

Since that post in 2018, I have kept the Dimes From Heaven in that cup next to my parent’s picture.

The dime on the left is the first one I found on my bedroom floor, and the one on the right is the one I just found on March Fourth. And, as you can see, I keep other special keepsakes on that frame as well.

Until today, I hadn’t counted the dimes. There are 121 dimes in the cup, 123 total with the two on the frame. That’s 123 Dimes From Heaven, $12.30 I will likely not spend anytime soon. The collection will continue to grow, I know this in my heart.

Again, if you believe everything is a coincidence, I respect that. I have no proof it’s not. But believing makes me feel them in my heart and soul, and that is priceless.