Forfeiting Grace
Robert Dawson
Jonah 2.8
I have never been the smartest person in the room. Not even close. No need to feel sorry for me. It's a condition I've had since childhood. I've learned to live with it. I am convinced my parents were genuinely worried about me. I was a little slow picking certain skills and lessons up.
I'm pretty sure mom thought she would have to tie my shoes well into my 20s. That whole rabbit and the stump thing stumped me. Then there was the time issue, as in learning to tell it, to read a clock or watch. I was so glad they invented digital watches instead of those round two-handed contraptions with Egyptian hieroglyphs on them. It didn't matter how many paper clocks and pictures they used as teaching aids; they were not going to help me read a modern-day battery-operated sundial.
For all the struggles they went through teaching me to tie my shoes and tell time, the one that worried them the most, especially my dad, was learning the different denominations of money, the value of money and how to count change.
I can still remember my parents pulling out their spare change and the Monopoly money. We were blessed but not rich so when it came to the paper money, Monopoly money would have to do. I understood the numbers on the paper bills but the coins...they killed me. My mind was geared to either size being worth more or just sheer numbers.
That made life difficult with a much older brother. Because of my ignorance and mixed-up monetary values my brother could take advantage of me and have some fun at my expense. I'd sit down with my piggy bank looking at all my riches and my brother would come by and play "Let's make a Deal."
It would go something like this. "I'll give you two nickels for that one quarter. I'll even give you ten pennies for just two quarters." And I would make the deal. After all, 2 is better than one and 10 is better than two...right?
Then I would take my new riches and show them to my mom or ...
Robert Dawson
Jonah 2.8
I have never been the smartest person in the room. Not even close. No need to feel sorry for me. It's a condition I've had since childhood. I've learned to live with it. I am convinced my parents were genuinely worried about me. I was a little slow picking certain skills and lessons up.
I'm pretty sure mom thought she would have to tie my shoes well into my 20s. That whole rabbit and the stump thing stumped me. Then there was the time issue, as in learning to tell it, to read a clock or watch. I was so glad they invented digital watches instead of those round two-handed contraptions with Egyptian hieroglyphs on them. It didn't matter how many paper clocks and pictures they used as teaching aids; they were not going to help me read a modern-day battery-operated sundial.
For all the struggles they went through teaching me to tie my shoes and tell time, the one that worried them the most, especially my dad, was learning the different denominations of money, the value of money and how to count change.
I can still remember my parents pulling out their spare change and the Monopoly money. We were blessed but not rich so when it came to the paper money, Monopoly money would have to do. I understood the numbers on the paper bills but the coins...they killed me. My mind was geared to either size being worth more or just sheer numbers.
That made life difficult with a much older brother. Because of my ignorance and mixed-up monetary values my brother could take advantage of me and have some fun at my expense. I'd sit down with my piggy bank looking at all my riches and my brother would come by and play "Let's make a Deal."
It would go something like this. "I'll give you two nickels for that one quarter. I'll even give you ten pennies for just two quarters." And I would make the deal. After all, 2 is better than one and 10 is better than two...right?
Then I would take my new riches and show them to my mom or ...
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