[Ohio-Communities-of-Faith] FW: Pickle Jar

Wed Sep 29 12:20:08 UTC 2021

From: Larry Perry [mailto:larryperry at performancepress.ccsend.com] On Behalf Of Larry Perry
Sent: Wednesday, September 29, 2021 8:10 AM
To: mmoore11 at kent.edu
Subject: EXT: Pickle Jar

  <https://r20.rs6.net/on.jsp?ca=65eb074e-cece-4dcc-894b-5b93a150cb2d&a=1103316066373&c=6f49fc70-74b9-11eb-9d75-fa163e24df6a&ch=6f4b0606-74b9-11eb-9d75-fa163e24df6a> 

Letter from Larry

Wednesday

September 29, 2021

Good morning Everyone:

Today's story is about a Pickle Jar and the collection of coins.

Read and think about this story all week.

The Pickle Jar 

The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the 

dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would

empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar. 

As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as

they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when 

the jar was almost empty..Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud

as the jar was filled. 

I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and

silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured 

through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit 

at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank. 

Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked 

neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad

and me on the seat of his old truck.

Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me

hopefully. 'Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, 

son You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going 

to hold you back.' 

Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across 

the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly

'These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all

his life like me.' 

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream

cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk

at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the

few coins nestled in his palm. 'When we get home, we'll start filling

the jar again.' He always let me drop the first coins into the empty 

jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at 

each other. 'You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,' 

he said. 'But you'll get there; I'll see to that.' No matter how rough things 

got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. 

Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill,and Mama had to

serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken 

from the jar. 

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over

my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than

ever to make a way out for me. 'When you finish college, Son,' he told 

me, his eyes glistening, 'You'll never have to eat beans again - unless 

you want to.' 

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. 

Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and 

noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had 

been removed. 

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where

the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never 

lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. 

The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than

the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told 

my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played

in my life as a boy.. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, 

how much my dad had loved me.. 

The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the 

holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each 

other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica 

began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. 'She 

probably needs to be changed,' she said, carrying the baby into my 

parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living 

room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. 

She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me

into the room. 'Look,' she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on 

the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never 

been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with 

coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and 

pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I 

dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying 

Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew 

he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak. 

This truly touched my heart. I know it has yours as well. Sometimes 

we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our 

blessings.Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one 

small gesture you can change a person's life, for better or for worse. 

God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some 

way. Look for Good in others. 

The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they must 

be felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller 

- Happy moments, praise God. 

- Difficult moments, seek God. 

- Quiet moments, worship God. 

- Painful moments, trust God. 

- Every moment, thank God. 

*****

May God Bless and keep you and don't forget that GOD

LOVES YOU and is WITH YOU ALWAYS!

Larry

NOTE: This letter is sent to anyone interested in receiving these inspirational notes. There is no charge and you are encouraged to forward these to anyone you think would benefit from reading them. If you would like to receive them direct, just send an email to me at larryperry at att.net and ask.

  <https://imgssl.constantcontact.com/letters/images/sys/S.gif> 

  <https://imgssl.constantcontact.com/letters/images/sys/S.gif> 

Performance Press | 11464 Saga Lane, Knoxville, TN 37931 

 <https://visitor.constantcontact.com/do?p=un&m=001sN5pmngK0k9o3NqMiSj7fA%3D&ch=6f4b0606-74b9-11eb-9d75-fa163e24df6a&ca=65eb074e-cece-4dcc-894b-5b93a150cb2d> Unsubscribe mmoore11 at kent.edu 

 <https://visitor.constantcontact.com/do?p=oo&m=001sN5pmngK0k9o3NqMiSj7fA%3D&ch=6f4b0606-74b9-11eb-9d75-fa163e24df6a&ca=65eb074e-cece-4dcc-894b-5b93a150cb2d> Update Profile |  <https://www.constantcontact.com/legal/customer-contact-data-notice> Constant Contact Data Notice 

Sent by  <mailto:larryperry at att.net> larryperry at att.net powered by 

 <http://www.constantcontact.com/index.jsp?cc=nge&rmc=VF21_3GE&nav=65eb074e-cece-4dcc-894b-5b93a150cb2d> Trusted Email from Constant Contact - Try it FREE today.

 <http://www.constantcontact.com/index.jsp?cc=nge&rmc=VF21_3GE&nav=65eb074e-cece-4dcc-894b-5b93a150cb2d> Try email marketing for free today! 

CAUTION: EXTERNAL SENDER Do not click any links, open any attachments, or REPLY to the message unless you trust the sender and know the content is safe. 

-- 
This email has been checked for viruses by Avast antivirus software.
https://www.avast.com/antivirus
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://nfbnet.org/pipermail/ohio-communities-of-faith_nfbnet.org/attachments/20210929/89856891/attachment.html>