Bottles, Nickels, and Bare Feet

 

Growing up in the 1960s, money was tight and every penny counted. In our house, we lived by the motto: “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.” But that didn’t mean we kids didn’t dream of a little pocket money of our own.

There weren’t many ways to earn it—maybe rake leaves, take out the trash, wash a neighbor’s car, or walk a dog or two. But my brother, sister, and I found our own money-making scheme: scavenging for tossed-out Coca-Cola bottles.

We’d spend whole summer days wandering up and down the streets in town, pulling our little red wagon behind us. I can still feel my bare feet burning on the hot pavement as we searched for those beautiful green-tinted bottles glinting in the sun. Each one was worth a whole nickel if we turned it in at the store—a nickel that could buy a treasure trove of penny candy.

What we didn’t realize then was that we were also doing our town a favor, picking up litter and keeping our streets clean. Before long, a few neighbors joined our mission, and the search turned into something of a neighborhood event. We’d laugh and carry on as we peered into ditches, crawled through underbrush (collecting a few scratches along the way), and darted out of the road when a car came by.

All that effort rarely amounted to much in terms of money, but we were proud of every nickel we earned. And of course, we spent it as fast as we got it—sometimes on penny candy, sometimes on another cold bottle of Coca-Cola. Either way, it was worth every drop of sweat and every blistered toe.

Looking back now, I see it wasn’t really about the nickels at all. It was about the simple joy of working together, laughing in the sun, and learning that even small efforts can make a difference. Those were rich days indeed, no matter how little we had.

Nowadays, when I think about those summers and that little red wagon, I’m reminded of how God blesses us in the simplest ways. We didn’t have much, but we had each other—and we had the joy that comes from gratitude, hard work, and togetherness. I believe the Lord smiled on those barefoot children, teaching us early that true wealth isn’t measured in coins, but in contentment.

Dear Lord, thank You for the simple joys that fill our lives—sunshine, laughter, family, and the satisfaction of honest work. Help us to remember that true riches come not from what we have, but from hearts that are thankful for every blessing, big or small. Amen.