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By MARY WHITE, Love Stories
Christmastime. Merriness. Magic. Miracles.
Every year, I search for Christmas; most years, I find it. And recently, I have found it in the oddest place. I have found it in a store. And I have found it with the most extraordinary people — my family.
These last two years, two opportunities have been added to the White family Christmas tradition, both happening in the exact same place. My husband's coworkers donate money to buy presents for several needy families. And my husband donates us to shop for these families.
CHRISTMAS CAPTAINS
I hate shopping. Despite this, my husband loads us up, and off we go to the store for a Christmas adventure. It is a hectic, frustrating, agonizing adventure, and we (even I) wouldn't miss it for the world.
My husband gets to play his favorite role — Santa. My kids get to be personal elves for unknown children. And me? I get to witness the very best of our family. I get to watch my children poring over their lists, muttering to themselves, deciding and comparing to come up with the best possible package for their charges. I love seeing them spend more time on each small present than they ever spend on choosing something for themselves. I love hearing them talk all the way home. "Did you see what I picked out for that kid?" "Do you think they'll like it?" "I wish we could be there Christmas morning to see them open it!" Such care and concern for a total stranger. Christmas.
And for the past two years, I have signed our children up to ring the Salvation Army bell at this same store. I take them one at a time, and for two hours, they are captain of their own personal Christmas adventure. Each of them does it so differently. Some are shy, some shake the bell vigorously at non-givers, some use the bell as a sword, lunging at the automatic doors to make them open. But they all watch and learn. They learn from the shaky old woman who slowly and painfully opens her purse to take out that crumpled dollar and then needs help to push it in the slot.
A WORLD CHANGED
They are in awe of the young children who, on what might be their first experience of giver, shyly approach the bucket, downcast eyes peeking at us, glowing as they place each coin in, one at a time, overwhelmed by their own power, the universal power of giving. And my children each meet my eyes when they see someone who is clearly poverty-stricken reach in his or her pocket for some change to give. Somehow, in those two hours, I watch the lessons and the giving swell inside them and become even more. One gives his own money to the bucket, another helps an elderly woman with her cart, another gives his super bouncy ball to a child who clearly covets it, and another thinks of the perfect gift for his grandfather, a gift that will require additional funds from his own pocket.
And, me? What happens to me? As I watch these beautiful children witness these miraculous events, I find, even for just two hours, my judgment and impatience slipping away. For just two hours, I think I might become a little more of who I was meant to be.
Just as so many years ago a child arrived to change this world, I find my world changed, my world illuminated by these angels born unto me. And I know, somewhere, that swaddled baby is smiling down on us, and for a split second, we get it. We are Christmas.
Mary White is from the Malone area. She and her husband have five children, eight cats, two dogs and three guinea pigs. She has had the privilege of working with children and families (her own and other people's) for more than 20 years.
