I think of how in younger years
When I was blessed with cash,
The dollars used to burn my hands
And to the malls Iíd dash.
It felt so good to have some dough
That I could spend on me.
Iíd hold it tightly in my hand
And plan my shopping spree.
It wasnít on new trendy clothes
Or earrings, shoes or pearls
That I would blow my petty cash---
Those are for prissy girls.
But I would cruise the hobby stores
In search of a new toy,
And then Iíd head for outlet malls
In central Illinois.
As years flew by, I shopped for more;
I had a mounting stash
Of knickknacks that I rarely used
Bought with my extra cash.
The trampoline I bought last fall
With Mammaís birthday check
Was used at first, but nowís retired,
And parked on our back deck.
The quilting frame I grabbed last year
For thirteen, ninety-nine,
Now, dusty, stands in my garage,
Clipped to a ďFor SaleĒ sign.
I stood amazed how I acquired
A closet full of junk
That now is tossed and tightly crammed
Into a storage trunk.
I had so much I had a sale---
Folks flocked to my front lawn.
To my surprise, they came in droves,
All lined up before dawn.
Today Iíve found a deeper joy
Than marking junk as sold.
The cash that used to burn my hands
Is not for me to hold.
Today I find that extra cash
Just doesnít bring a thrill.
For itís in giving that I find
Iím doing Godís true will.
Itís when I pass it to someone
Who has a greater need,
I find I overflow with joy---
It cures me of my greed.
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