The Pristine $2 Bill: A Lesson in Generosity and Abundance

Life has a way of teaching us lessons through the most unexpected people and places. Looking back, one of the most valuable lessons I ever learned about abundance didn’t come from a financial advisor, college, or a book on wealth—it came from an 85-year-old woman named Mrs. Gene, a senior I once lived with in Itasca, IL in exchange for helping her with errands, doctor’s appointments, and companionship.

This chapter of my life began when I left the home where I had been working as a live-in nanny for my host family. The transition was abrupt. I went from being surrounded by the warmth (and chaos) of children to living with an elderly woman in a house that felt eerily quiet, except for the hum of the television broadcasting a golf game taking place on a sunny course—a stark contrast to the drawn curtains that kept the entire house in near-constant dimness.

The arrangement itself was odd—I paid rent, but I wasn’t given a key to the house. If I didn’t make it home by 7 p.m., I’d be locked out in the cold. The water smelled of rust, and winter had settled in. It was 1996—brick cell phones were just starting to reach regular people, but only those with money. If someone needed to find you, they had to call the house phone, and whether you got that message depended entirely on whoever answered.

But amidst the strangeness of it all, there was one moment with Mrs. Gene that stayed with me. One day, she handed me a crisp, pristine $2 bill along with a note:

“If you don’t spend this bill, you will never be broke.”

At the time, I thought it was a sweet gesture. Given that I was essentially her indentured servant, it felt like an odd token of goodwill. Yet, I tucked the bill away, holding onto the wisdom that came with it, believing that as long as I kept it, I’d never truly experience financial hardship.

Breaking the Illusion of Scarcity

I held onto that bill for years. In fact, I may still have it—I once tucked it inside a book, though I can’t quite remember which one. Not because I believed it had magical properties, but because I believed in the energy behind it. But life has a way of shifting perspectives, and not too long ago, I had a realization that unraveled the illusion behind Mrs. Gene’s belief.

She, like many of us, lived in a perpetual state of scarcity. She clung to her routines, closed herself off from the outside world, and found comfort in small rituals like hoarding a $2 bill as a safeguard against financial despair. She believed that by holding onto something, she was protecting herself from loss.

But what I’ve come to understand—especially now, as I approach my own golden years—is that the real sign of abundance isn’t the balance number in your bank account or the pile of material things you manage to accumulate in your home.

A Closed Fist Can Never Receive

I’ve come to realize that when we clutch too tightly onto material things—whether it’s money, possessions, or even fear-based beliefs about security—we leave no space for abundance to flow into our lives. A closed fist is never open to receive. When we grip onto what we have out of fear of losing it, we unknowingly block the very flow of prosperity we desire. But when we open our hands—when we let go, trust, and give freely—we create space for something new to arrive. Abundance doesn’t respond to hoarding; it responds to openness. Just like the wind fills an open sail but bypasses a sealed vessel, life’s blessings find their way to those willing to let them in.

True abundance is generosity.

Even in moments of financial strain, when I have chosen to give instead of hold tightly to what little I had, I have felt the vastness of infinite abundance. Time and time again, I’ve seen how the act of sharing, even when it feels like there’s nothing to spare, creates a ripple effect that brings unexpected blessings.

It’s as if generosity opens a channel where energy can flow freely, and in doing so, it always returns in some form.

A Moment of Isolation

Mrs. Gene’s home was not just physically confining—it was emotionally isolating. I remember being terribly sick once, bedridden with the flu it was the first weeks of Spring. With no cell phone and no way to reach out, I was completely on my own. Days passed, and my boyfriend at the time, growing worried after not hearing from me, called the house looking for me. He cared. He was trying to find me.

But Mrs. Gene never told him I was sick.

I lay there alone, feverish and weak, with no one to help.

I wonder now if her own scarcity mindset extended beyond money—if it shaped how she saw care, connection, and kindness. Perhaps she was never given those things freely, so she didn’t know how to give them. Perhaps she believed in conserving energy the way she conserved light in her house, afraid that if she let too much out, she’d be left with nothing.

But I’ve since learned that the things we hoard don’t protect us. They isolate us.

The True Currency of Life

Wealth is not measured by what we clutch onto, but by what we release.

Abundance is not about how much we own—it’s about how much we are willing to give.

When you trust that generosity doesn’t deplete you but expands you, you begin to see how life mirrors that same flow. The more you give, the more you invite abundance into your life—not just in money, but in love, kindness, and connection.

Mrs. Gene lived her final years in a self-imposed dimness, while I have learned to open my curtains, let the sun pour in, and embrace the ebb and flow of giving and receiving.

And now, when life surprises me with unexpected gifts—whether financial, emotional, or spiritual—I smile and hope that, wherever she is, Mrs. Gene has finally embraced a state of abundance and light.

Thank you for the lesson Mrs. Gene xoxox