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Amma pressed the ANDAL Coin into my palm, her weathered fingers trembling slightly. "From your grandmother," she whispered, though Amma herself had saved for months through our neighborhood sharing circle. The ancient Tamil inscription gleamed under kitchen light, connecting us across generations. I'd posted about needing help, hesitant and vulnerable. Within hours, messages flooded in. Friends sent digital coins, their small acts cascading into something magnificent. That single ANDAL Coin represented not just money, but love—the kind that moves through communities like prayers. Tears came easily that evening. I wasn't alone. We never truly are.