my box of coins

I have this small wooden box of coins. The box was my great-grandfather's, grandfather Kreitner with the big swollen hands. It was a gift and when I first opend it there was simply a pin, a half-dollar coin, and a piece of a wish of a wishbone. My dad started the collection of coins. He's been to dozens of countries for conferences and to speak about Jesus and love and truth. The past four years of working at banks has given me a front-line exposure to foreign coins from present and past democracies and tyrannies. I love that box of coins, not because of all of the countries and places I'll probably never see but the fact that the hundreds of coins are worth little to nothing--that unattributed with value outside of their soverign realms they are just coins, just pieces of metal, medals for money meaning absolutely nothing.