Sighing at the angel tree
Our congregation has, for many years, had a Christmastime angel tree, in which members purchase requested gifts for families in our local Head Start program. Do not get me wrong: this is great. It’s a way to make the holiday a little merrier for families who (I assume) don’t have a lot of extra disposable income.
And every year, our family waits until the later weeks of the angel tree to pick up our cards, because while there are many who want to buy clothes for adorable baby boys and five-year-old girls, other gift recipients are simply not as much fun to shop for. This year we picked up cards for a family with four boys, ages seven to 18. And off to Fred Meyer I went.
True confession: I do not enjoy shopping of any sort—grocery shopping, clothes shopping, Christmas gift shopping. I just don’t. I like the idea of giving people presents, in theory. I like the idea of the recipient knowing that I care about them or was thinking about them. But going out to the store, at night, in the rain, in the cold: meh. A recent trip to the mall confirmed for me what I’ve suspected for a while now: hell is Macy’s.
