Ho! Ho! Ho-ly cow. We’re broke. The money we allocated for Christmas is already gone. My purse is empty. My husband’s wallet is empty. Our Christmas bank account is empty. Yet I have a long list of Christmas treasures which need to be purchased. How can I possibly be Santa’s little elf with no money? Panic set in until I remembered the junk drawer.

Our junk drawer is a beat up 10 x 5 inch box filled with discarded business cards, useless keys and mail we don’t want to deal with. It is the place into which we shove everything on the counter when unexpected company comes. And it is the final resting place of all the change jingling around in my husband’s pockets. Most days I view our junk drawer as a mess which needs to be cleaned. But this week it became a little piece of heaven.

I’m not saying heaven is a treasure chest of coins waiting to be looted. I’m saying heaven is a place filled with grace. And to me, all those nickels, dimes and quarters were a second chance to fill my family’s stomachs and stockings. I’m sure my two toddlers thought mommy had gone off her rocker when I started jumping around singing, “Santa Claus is coming to town!” I excitedly put every last penny into a cup stopping only long enough to hug my now confused children. I felt like a kid in a candy store as I separated those precious coins into zip lock bags.

My first stop was the Dollar Store. I wore my jeans with the ginormous, kangaroo sized pockets. I looked like the poster girl for the local liposuction clinic. My heavy pouches of hardened cellulite clinked and clanked with every step, yet I practically skipped down the aisles. I felt like I had just landed on “Free Parking” in a heated game of monopoly.

I took special care in my selections, savoring the thrill of the moment. Did you know you can buy a shopping cart full of Christmas joy for only a bag of nickels at the Dollar Store? The lady at the register was very friendly and chatty until I emptied my pockets onto her table. As the last nickel stopped spinning she looked up at me and in a deadpan voice said, “You’ve got to be kidding.” I tried to tone down my smile and the twinkle in my eye when I gleefully replied, “Nope. Merry Christmas.” She counted those coins three times before she got it right. But in the end I left with my trinkets and much lighter pants.

Next was the grocery store. I brought out the big guns for this one . . . I was packing quarters. I was once again very selective with my purchases before offering the clerk my bag of coins. She looked at the quarters, looked at me, looked at the long line of waiting customers, and then disappeared with my money.

When she returned she plopped the bag of coins onto the counter and snarled, “You still owe me fifty cents.” Apparently this store—which starts with “A” and ends with “sons”—weighs change in the back room. Their methods are high tech, but woefully inaccurate. “Oh, I think you better weigh them again. I know there is $20 in that bag.” You’d think I had just told her she had to work a double shift on Christmas Eve. Steam started coming out of her ears as she began to count the coins. I don’t want to sound cocky but I did not have to give her two more of my coveted quarters.

I wouldn’t want to pay for things with coins on a regular basis. But along with the slight embarrassment came an unexpected exhilaration. I was proud of my hunting and gathering skills, and my ability to provide a holly, jolly Christmas for my family. O.K., scratching around on the bottom of a drawer for loose change may not qualify as true hunting and gathering but it served its purpose. And granted my husband and children would have still felt the Christmas spirit without the eggnog, gingerbread cookies and cheesy presents. But it felt great providing them.