If you have read my blog before or know me personally, you know that after my father died I went to see Lisa Williams (a medium) and he came through in a big way. I will write about the whole experience one day but today I am only going to write about what she advised he sends us. She told us that my father sends us dimes to let us know that he still is very much a part of my life. It wasn’t until I started finding dimes in all kinds of odd places at the exact time I was A. thinking of my father, B. looking at a picture of my father or C. talking to my father (yes, I still talk to him in my mind, that I remembered her telling us. I was surprised to see many stories on the internet of loved ones claiming to receive dimes after someone near and dear passed away. I started journaling about the dimes I have found and how I came to find them and tonight I want to share one of my favorite dime stories.
Friday night was supposed to be date night for my husband and I. But instead of sitting across a dimly lit table, engaging in deep conversation and sipping on red wine, we were shoulder to shoulder in an emergency room waiting for him to be taken back(Alert-He is okay). After an hour or so, I became thirsty and cursed myself for not bringing along any cash. The only thing I thought was needed was my Mac card. A vending machine does not take a Mac card (at least not yet). My husband opened his wallet to find a lonely dollar. He handed it to me and off I went, hoping that a soda wouldn’t cost more than a buck. I scanned the machine and could not see anywhere the cost for a drink. Because I am such a genius, I decided to feed the machine my dollar and then wait to see how much it advised I would owe. The green neon light flashed .35 cents. Surely, I could come up with that teeny amount. I checked my pockets, nothing, pulled out every card of my wallet in hopes of loose change, nothing. I tried to get the dollar back but realized it wasn’t going to give it back to me. I was in a dilemma. I motioned for my sick husband to come my way and stand by the machine while I raced to the car to retrieve .35 cents. On my way out the door I said “Come on Dad; send me some of those dimes.” I scanned the parking lot, expecting to see a dime or two but was disappointed when none showed up. I rummaged through my car and only found one sticky nickel stuck to the cup holder. I was about to give up when a silver shimmer caught my eye. A dime was wedged into the driver’s seat. “Ah, there is a dime, but I still need two more.” I ripped my car apart and felt pathetic that I couldn’t even find a scent. I shut the door and turned around to see a friendly looking man walking toward me. We exchanged hellos and immediately I felt comfortable enough to explain the situation and ask if he could spare a dime (I am no beggar, but that diet coke was calling my name and I needed it). I was disheartened when he explained that he just got discharged from the hospital and had nothing with him. At that point, I think I was more disappointed that I didn’t find the dimes (I always feel like my dad could hear me when I talk) then I was in losing the soda. I turned to head back and I heard footprints behind me, “Excuse me maam,” the man I spoke to was standing behind me with his hand held out (Mind you, I asked him for one dime, not realizing at the time I was short two). “When I opened my car door, there were two dimes on my floor.” He looked as surprised as I was. I took the dimes, thanked him and ran back in, threw the thirty five cents into the machine and was greeted with a flashing green light that read, please deposit $1.00. I took too long and my dollar was eaten up by the machine. I wasn’t about to ask for ten more dimes, I knew that would be pushing my luck.