LIVING WITH HEART

Decisive Hearts

Candace A. Croft, Ph.D.
© 2007 Candace A. Croft

Life is a series of decisions.  There are those that are major and those that pass by virtually unnoticed.  Some are costly; others are rewarding.  Often, the gamut comes wrapped within one, sole event.  Such was the case with the dime, the dance, and the decision.

The teacher watched as, for several days, the approaching dance completely occupied Molly’s mind.  Anyone who has ever witnessed a twelve-year-old girl anticipating a rite of passage knew how her world revolved around its magnetic pull.  Common routines like homework and chores, even simple tasks like brushing hair, were carried out in the slow-motion haze that marked a separate, dreamtime reality.  One could only speculate what the girl imagined—laughing with friends over silly things, sharing vital secrets like who were the cutest boys, or designing party clothes that transformed a girl into a princess.  While her dreams might never be known for certain, one look at her face revealed that she expected her first dance to be as perfect as any fairy tale.

Molly had been old enough for the dance last year, but could not attend.  Her family was too poor to afford it.  A one dollar admission seemed paltry to those used to substantial paychecks, but the teacher knew the amount was a hardship for many families.  For Molly’s family, that single dollar might well have been a million.  So, she was pleasantly surprised when, on the day of the dance, Molly entered the classroom wearing a new dress and glowing with a confidence that matched the shine on her new shoes. 

“You look very pretty.”

“I’m going to the dance, Ms. Biwer.”  Her words came out in a breathless rush of unbelievable joy. 

The family may have had little money, but they had honor.  Molly was always polite.  Her homework was done.  She was clean.  Her combed hair was free of oil and lice.  Threadbare clothes, which always fit the previous wearer a little bit better than the current one, were washed and neatly pressed.  Having cut a piece of sturdy cardboard to fit inside her shoe so its hole wouldn’t go all the way through to her foot, the teacher knew that, until that day, Molly only had one pair of shoes to see her through church, school, work, and play.  Ms. Biwer could only guess at the numerous sacrifices the family had made so Molly might attend the dance.

She watched as, across the hours, Molly periodically counted out the price of a dream.  Two quarters—fifty cents.  Three dimes—sixty, seventy, eighty cents.  Two nickels—ninety-five cents, one dollar more precious than all the objects held by Midas.  Each time she finished, excitement bubbled to her lips and released a day-long case of the giggles.

Class dismissed, Molly rushed with the other students across the lawn toward the gym.  Not scheduled for dance duty, Ms. Biwer walked to her car ready to savor the windfall of a shortened day.  Hand on the door handle, something made her stop.  She did not know what it was, just a feeling really, but she returned to the school.  Rounding a corner, she saw Molly standing alone outside the gym, her face wet with disappointment. 

Placing an arm of support around shoulders jerking with sobs, she asked, “What’s the matter?”

Molly choked out the words.  “I … lost … a … a … dime!  And now … I can’t … I can’t … get into … the dance!” 

Patiently collecting sobbed phrases, Ms. Biwer pieced the story together.  Apparently somewhere between the classroom and the dance, a dime and Molly’s dream had slipped through her fingers. 

Ms. Biwer gave an encouraging squeeze of her shoulder.  “Don’t cry.  We’ll work it out.”

“There’s nothing … to do,” Molly said, settling into a hiccupping rhythm.  “I’ve tried … everything.  I’ve looked … all over … the yard.  I don’t know … what I’ll say … when I go home … and they ask me … about the dance.  I can’t tell them … I lost the money.  I asked … Mr. Adamson … if I could … go in … for a little while … for ninety cents … but he said no!” 

Ms. Biwer rolled her eyes in the direction of Mr. Adamson who stood sentry taking admission to the dance.  She could hear his tone of arrogant authority as she ushered the girl into the restroom. 

She washed Molly’s knees and hands that had gotten dirty while crawling over the ground searching for the lost dime.   Then, she rummaged through her leather purse as Molly watched and undoubtedly wondered if, like Mary Poppins, she would pull a coat rack or mirror from it.  It certainly seemed large enough.  Instead, the teacher withdrew a tiny packet and used the moist towel to swab tears from her face.  A brush worked magic on snarled hair and a gold barrette lent a touch of elegance.  Another round of ransacking produced a special treasure—a spritz of floral scent—and, voila!, Ms. Biwer had worked a miracle transforming Molly into the princess of her dreams.

The girl had forgotten the misfortune until Ms. Biwer reached into her wallet and handed her a dime.  With a dollar’s worth of coins returned to her palm, Molly tightened her grip, fingernails marking her skin. 

“Do you have money for pizza and soda?”

“No, ma’am.  But, this is enough to get me into the dance.  I don’t mind not eating.”

Reaching back into her wallet, the teacher removed another dollar and handed it to Molly.  “Now you have money for refreshments.”

The girl’s face registered amazement at her good fortune.  “Thank you, Ms. Biwer.”  A moment’s pause brought a new concern.  She extended the money back to the teacher.  “It’s so much money.  I can’t take it.  How would I repay you?”

Knowing the family, the teacher also knew they would never accept charity.  “Consider it a loan.  You can earn it back next week as my classroom assistant.  Then, sometime, when you are an adult and have an extra dollar, you can give it to someone else who needs it.”

The bargain was acceptable.  Molly gave one sharp nod, as she had seen her dad do, to indicate her agreement.

“One more thing.”  The girl waited in silence, fearing a deal-breaker.  “Go into the dance and have fun.”

Relieved, she grinned and said, “I will.  Thank you.”  She threw her arms around the teacher and hugged her in a stranglehold of happiness and gratitude.

Molly rushed up to the door and proudly handed Mr. Adamson one dollar in exact change.  Ms. Biwer watched as the girl entered the dance and gasped, standing open-mouthed to gaze at the colorful decorations glimmering in the twinkling lights and watch the streamers that veiled the floor wave in the breeze.   One dollar (and ten cents) was a small price to pay to make anyone’s dream come true.

Curious, Ms. Biwer approached Mr. Adamson.  “Molly said you wouldn’t let her into the dance for ninety cents.”

“That’s correct.”  His words snapped with the starch of authority.

“It’s only a dime.  I don’t understand why it was a big deal.”

“Exactly.  Just a dime.  It’s no big deal to get another one and a lesson better learned early in life.”

“Yes.”  Ms. Biwer felt compelled to agree and added wryly, “It’s a lesson some never learn.” 

Perhaps it was true that a dime or a student dance was no big deal in the universal scheme of things.  Then again, maybe it was the small, seemingly innocuous decisions that mattered most.  Ms. Biwer had little doubt that the dance would be remembered by Molly for a lifetime. 

One dance, ten cents, and two decisions—one that was priceless and another not worth a dime. 

We expose our view of life with the choices we make.  Everyday, we are each given the opportunity to create magic or shatter dreams.

What are your decisions worth?

KEEP YOUR HEARTLIGHT SHINING