MY MISSION: FILL TWO SHOE BOXES
My church participates in Operation Christmas Child. We fill shoe boxes with toys for children in the developing world. This year I decided to fill one shoe box for a boy aged 2-4 and one for a girl aged 5-9. On Sunday, after the special service praying over and blessing the shoe boxes of non-procrastinating participants, I figured I could fill my shoe boxes and get them to the church on Monday morning, muttering a prayer of blessing over them myself. Since my children and I were already in Wal-Mart on Sunday, I thought grabbing shoe-box fillin's would be no problem.
Was. Not. Going. To. Happen.
My children, you see, believe that they are the most deprived children in the world, and will not let me shop for anybody else's children. Or for myself. Or for much of anything except electronic games the size of postage stamps which cost $40 and get lost the same day. My fourteen-year-old daughter had just watched several episodes of MTV Teen Cribs and decided that anybody who doesn't live in a $20 million house that looks like a resort hotel is underprivileged.
So while I was looking at little cars for my Christmas Child, Boy (2-4), my children were shoving everything from Lego Sets to fuzzy lamps under my nose and begging for them at top volume. I bought one blue car, under duress ("I bet you never bought ME a blue car that nice when I was a baby!") And gave up.
On Monday morning, an hour and a half into my Operation Christmas Child shopping trip, I realized I am way too anal-retentive to shop for tiny strangers in foreign lands, even if my children are in school and out of the way.
CHRISTMAS CHILD, MALE, AGED 2-4
My little Operation Christmas Child boy will be 2-4 years old. That's quite an age range. Would he be two and put the toys in his mouth? Would they pose a choking hazard? Would he be four and think stacking cups were stupid? Would he eat the crayons? Stick the pencils in his eyes? Would he be African and need a different kind of brush or comb? What if the soap stung his eyes? Liquid baby soaps were prohibited, so I got him:
- Soft chewable Tonka car with moveable non-detatchable wheels labelled safe for children over 20 months
- Aveeno oatmeal soap (won't sting)
- Nice washcloth (the cheap one looked like it might unravel)
- 3-pack of Hanes T-shirts, sized 2-4T (big enough?)
- Candy (what if he's starving? Wouldn't a baggie of pinto beans make more sense than candy? If all the other kids' boxes have candy his day will be ruined though. Candy.)
- Stackable cups (technically a baby toy; if he's four, he can eat and drink out of 'em)
- Four-pack of Colgate Wisp toothbrushes with built-in dentifrice (least confusing/messy/edible)
- Stuffed salamander with no parts to chew off (too scary?)
- Stuffed dog (ditto, but ears somewhat worrisome)
- Wooden number/letter blocks (crap, made in China, but small enough to fit in box but too big for mouth)
- Large rubber ball (couldn't find one, got one for a dog, smelled highly toxic, wouldn't even give it to a dog, got smaller one out of bubblegum machine)
One shoe box down, one to go.
CHRISTMAS CHILD, FEMALE, AGED 5-9
My little Operation Christmas Child girl will be 5-9 years old. Now that's what I'm talkin' about.
I almost got her a pink fleece blanket with stars but the shoe box was too small. Will she be cold at night with no blanket? Why doesn't the dollar store have a mosquito net? That might fit in the box. What good are school supplies if she's dead of malaria in a month?
Here is what I stuffed in her box:
- Twist-up Crayola Crayons (the normal kind might break)
- Writing tablet
- Sharpened pencils and a sharpener (pre-sharpened them because sharpener might not work)
- Yardley of London lavender soap (kid needs a little luxury, yes?)
- Bright, shiny, funky head scarf (okay, so this was a splurge. Hope her mother/big sister doesn't swipe and/or sell it)
- Purple washcloth (matches the soap)
- Pink travel toothbrush and Colgate (to where, on earth, do I think she is travelling? oh well, it looked cool)
- Set of bright bracelets with stars
- Two dolls, one small clown with a china face and one big soft cloth one. No plastic.
- About 200 itsy-bitsy ponytail holders, suitable for any little girl of any race
- Hairbrush
- "Worry dolls" in a wooden box from Chinaberry in Charlottesville (happened to have some on hand; will Samaritan's Purse think they are idolatrous voodoo gear and throw them away? I hope not.)
- Large rubber ball from same bubblegum machine
- Even more candy than the little boy got
After all, little girls in the developing world have a lot of catching up to do.
So into my church fellowship hall I skulk, at the very last possible shoe-box second, and lay the boxes on a table with the $14 check, $7 per box. God, bless these belated overstuffed shoe boxes that I've fretted over for two hours, and may they bless some little kids somewhere on earth and make their Christmas very happy, and do not permit the kids' parents to auction off the contents since I spent so much money, and protect the kids from bullies who would take their Werther's Original butter candy and luxury soaps by force, and help me to get a grip already, amen.
