1,354 words, 7 minutes read time.
Miriam sat at her small wooden table, the evening sun casting warm hues through the dusty window of her modest home. In her hand, she held a small linen pouch filled with ten silver coins—her entire life savings. To anyone else, they might seem like just a handful of coins, but to Miriam, each one was precious. They represented years of careful planning, saving every extra bit she could from the small wages she earned as a seamstress.
Life had never been easy for Miriam. She was a widow, having lost her husband Elias to illness five years earlier. Without children to care for her and no family nearby, Miriam worked long hours to support herself. Her sewing work was simple but consistent, providing just enough to keep her home and food on the table. Still, she always saved a little—just a coin here and there—for the future. Those ten coins were her security, her hopes, and a reminder that she was capable of surviving on her own.
Miriam had never been one to complain, even when life threw hardship after hardship her way. But that evening, as she counted her coins one by one, something felt off. She had counted them a hundred times before, always the same reassuring ten silver pieces. But today, as she laid them out in front of her, her heart sank.
One was missing.
Miriam’s pulse quickened as she frantically rechecked the coins. She counted again. And again. Nine. Only nine coins.
Panic washed over her. She knew every corner of her small home. It wasn’t a grand place, just one room, but to her, it was enough. She knew every crack in the walls, every worn spot in the floor. Where could it have gone? How could she have lost something so valuable? That one coin—while small to some—represented security, the future, the safety net she’d worked so hard to build.
Without hesitation, Miriam jumped up from the table, her chair scraping across the floor. She lit her oil lamp, its soft glow illuminating the dim room. Shadows danced across the walls, but she was focused on the task at hand. Her hands were trembling, but her determination outweighed her fear.
The first place she looked was the table, lifting it carefully and checking underneath. Nothing. She moved to her small bed, searching the floorboards beneath it, feeling for any sign of the missing coin. Her fingers grazed the cool stone floor as she knelt, her breath shallow. Still, nothing.
Her mind began to race. Perhaps it had slipped between the floorboards, lost forever in the cracks of the ancient stone. Or maybe it had been misplaced when she last took it from the pouch. Thoughts of all the places it could be whirled in her mind. But one thing was certain: she wasn’t going to stop until she found it.
She tore through the house, methodically overturning every small piece of furniture. She searched the corners, moved her sewing materials aside, and even sifted through her pantry. The oil in her lamp began to burn lower as the hours passed, but Miriam refused to quit. Her heart ached with the thought of never finding it, the dread of having to live without that final coin gnawing at her. For someone with so little, losing even a small part of it felt like losing everything.
As Miriam worked, the memory of her husband Elias came to her. Elias had been a kind man, strong and hardworking. When he was alive, they’d never had much, but he always reminded her that what mattered wasn’t the money they had but the love they shared. “Miriam,” he used to say, “value the things that last, and treasure what you have.” But now, without him, those coins had come to represent her sense of independence and her ability to survive.
Hours turned into the night, and Miriam found herself sitting in the center of the room, exhausted. She leaned her head back and sighed, feeling the weight of disappointment and loss wash over her. How could she have been so careless?
And yet, in that moment of despair, something caught her eye. A small, dull glint beneath her table—barely visible in the faint lamplight. Her breath caught as she crawled across the floor, her hands reaching out, heart pounding. It was there, wedged between the leg of the table and the stone floor: her lost coin.
Tears of relief filled Miriam’s eyes as she grasped the coin tightly in her hand. She stood up slowly, cradling it as if it were a precious jewel, her heart overflowing with joy. The weight of the world lifted from her shoulders as the relief settled in. She had found it.
Miriam didn’t hesitate. She burst out of her home and rushed down the street, knocking on her neighbor’s door. Lydia, her closest friend, answered, eyes wide with surprise at seeing Miriam so late at night.
“I found it!” Miriam exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.
“What did you find?” Lydia asked, confused.
“The coin! The one I lost! I’ve been searching for hours, and I finally found it!” Miriam’s voice was filled with joy, the kind of joy that spills over when something valuable is returned, something you feared was lost forever.
Lydia smiled warmly. “Oh, Miriam! That’s wonderful! Come, let’s celebrate. You’ve worked so hard for those coins.”
Soon, the small street where Miriam lived was buzzing with excitement. Neighbors gathered, all sharing in her happiness. Miriam’s house, once quiet and dim, was now filled with laughter and warmth, the joy of finding what was lost spreading throughout the small community.
As Miriam sat with her friends that night, she couldn’t help but think about what the coin really represented. It wasn’t just a piece of silver; it was her life, her hard work, her perseverance, and her hope. But more than that, it was a reminder that even when something seems lost, it’s worth the effort to find it.
In that moment, Miriam felt a deeper truth settle within her. Just as she had sought after her lost coin with relentless determination, so too does God seek out those who are lost. She realized that her search was a mirror of God’s own pursuit of His children—each one valuable, each one worth the effort, and each one worthy of celebration when they are found.
That night, Miriam knew she was not alone. Her joy was shared not only by her neighbors but by something much greater—a joy that echoed beyond her small home and into the heavens. It was a joy that celebrated the return of something precious, a joy that mirrored the heart of God.
In the end, Miriam’s story mirrors something far greater than the search for a lost coin. It reflects the deep truth in Jesus’ parable found in Luke 15:8-10. In this passage, Jesus tells of a woman who loses one of her ten silver coins and searches tirelessly until she finds it. Just as Miriam celebrated with her neighbors when she recovered her coin, the woman in Jesus’ parable calls her friends together to rejoice.
But Jesus’ message goes beyond the coin itself—it symbolizes God’s pursuit of each of us. The lost coin represents a lost soul, a person who has wandered away from God’s grace. The woman’s relentless search illustrates how God seeks us out, even when we feel lost, broken, or insignificant. The joy of finding the coin reflects the immense joy in heaven when a sinner repents and returns to God.
Through this parable, Jesus teaches us that no one is too far gone, too small, or too lost for God’s love. Each soul is infinitely valuable to Him, and He will go to great lengths to bring us back, just as Miriam did for her lost coin.
Ultimately, the parable is a powerful reminder of the value of repentance, the depth of God’s love for us, and the celebration that takes place in heaven when even one person turns back to Him.
