Here's my imitation of me (said in whiny, high-pitched voice):

"Oh look at me...I have the best time. I'm happy, oh no, today I am sad. Oh, feel bad for me because I have no boyfriend. Oh, want to be me because I have fun friends. Wah, wah...feel bad for me because I am spoiled."

That's what I hear, in my head, when I try to remain unbiased and read my past entries. And it makes me sick.

And then I read Marnie2000 and I thought, it may not translate here, but I do my best to make every person I meet feel like they are the most important person in the room. I may not write the great American novel, find the cure to cancer, or uncover the secrets to the universe. I may not even develop a lofty philosophy to explain any of these things. But if I have the ability to make people feel happy during the time they are with me, then that's my contribution.

*~*

The holiday season always makes me feel like I haven't done enough for the less fortunate throughout the year. Which I haven't.

So here's my plan.

My roommate, through work, has a Secret Santa program that intercepts children's letters to Santa. Each employee picks a letter and buys the toys that kids want.

My roommate got two letters. One of the children, asked for a 100 colored pipe cleaners and colored yarn for Christmas, because she likes to make arts and crafts.

Pipe Cleaners and yarn, people. For Christmas. This breaks my heart.

My spoiled-kid Christmas list must have been a mile long and God forbid I didn't get everything on it.

Her other child's letter asked for a "dollhouse and cooking things and clothes for the doll people."

I don't know about you, and maybe some of you feel differently because you don't celebrate Christmas or maybe you don't believe in organized religion, but I think the least I can do is buy a kid some art supplies to make her happy on a morning that could otherwise be very, very sad.

I just think about these kids, writing these letters and waiting in anticipation for that day...seeing Santas ringing bells on every corner and believing in him. Believing in this magical man. Believing he is solely able to make their Mom and Dad stop fighting; that he can make a sick family member feel better for a day; that his visit will bring them the shiny things their classmates have and they've wished for all year.

And frankly, I can't bear the thought that even one of those innocent children might wake up to NOTHING - no brightly wrapped gifts, no special breakfast or dinner to look forward to, no stockings filled with coloring books nor sharp, brand new crayons with the sharpener built into the box. Not when I know, that I can scrape together at least $30 to buy them something that will perpetuate their dream, restore their faith in others, and give them happiness for at least a day, regardless of what their situation at home may be.

The NY Daily News runs a program where you can intercept letters from NYC children and anonymously donate a gift. This year, I plan on being a part of this program.

And for one day, I will know, that I helped a child to just be a child.

previous next