Bless Elizabeth

She called me to confirm we were sewing tonight and on hearing my voice, let me just be lazy and go to bed. If I thought yesterday was grueling, today makes it seem a cakewalk. So many Christmas Wish bags to fill. I never really realised how difficult it is to 'shop' for a child you know only as a name and age... no ethnic information, no idea when a girl asks for a doll if she means Barbi, or Bratz, or a sweet little baby doll. Looking around at all the shelves and wondering what on earth I can find to make a 16 year old boy's face light up at Christmas time. His little brother and sister was easy but the teens - those are so hard. We know so little and what we pack is pretty much all they are going to get. (Speaking of blessing Elizabeth, she and Melissa left my house after sewing last night and went to Walmart and played "Santa's Helper". There were three bags of new kid's clothes on my porch when I got up - and most of what was in those bags never made it to the sorting shelf. They went straight from my unpacking hand to a volunteer's 'child pile'.)

There was some unpleasant office politics. Unpleasant enough that I seriously considered switching my volunteer time to another area (not another organisation!) but I'm going to tough it out - I can see that I do make a difference in there and I think things will suffer if I'm not there to soothe the feelings of the folks who are dealing with an in-charge/expert/totally burntout volunteer who has been doing this for each holiday... she seriously needs a break but the middle of the project is not the time to discuss it with her.

Volunteering with an organisation that is run by paid employees is so refreshing in some ways. It is not quite check-your-brain-in-at-the-door, but close. Responsibility for the programs, for the events, for everything rests in the hands of the actual employees. I come, I work as I'm directed and at the end I'm asked if I have suggestions for making the next time easier, but that is it. Sometimes it is so very relaxing to be a drone/worker bee. Yesterday and today I did the same sort of thing I used to do in SCA kitchens. Cleaned, re-set (re-organised) areas that had become disasters, cleared out the dross and recharged staplers, cups, stocking-stuffer piles. Sorted jumbled shelves so things could be found easily. I really enjoyed that part. Not just because of the satisafaction of making order out of chaos, but also because when the case workers were in getting things for 'their families', I knew what was available and could ease a wrinkled brow with a simple, 'What age/sex are you looking for?" - they'd always start telling me about the child and I could put my hand on something good almost immediately. Or even suggest something that they didn't know about because it was in another area. Man, that was nice.

I like this 'assistant' stuff.

I haven't even tried to go to the gym this week and the way my body hurts after each day in the shelter, I doubt that I will until the Christmas gift program is over. I have done more bending, lifting, carrying and shuffling of stuff than I would do moving a house. Wow. I am so exhausted when I get home that it surprises me that there is no lingering pain or stiffness after I rest. I am really, really grateful and surprised by that. It reminds me of how much I am blessed.

The Card Fairy

So we have a Christmas Card Fairy. Once, a while ago, I wrote about how much I love the cards of the season - the art, the sentiments, the knowledge that someone cared enough about a member of the family to take the time and effort to send something solid rather than virtual... and that year, the Card Fairy struck. Every day there was a new card sent from the same address by different individuals, some of whom I knew were four legged and unversed in the Power of English. Or even the Power of Speech, for that matter. And my whole family loved those cards (we still have two or three 'really great' ones that get put up on the wall each year). As the years have developed, Arn and the Boys have begun to refuse to look at the cards when I open them, preferring to see them on the front wall as they enter the house and pausing often to go back and re-read the whole collection every few days or when they are down. This year, the Card Fairy nearly started a Card War by sending a violently scotty-dog specimen in the 'traditional' black, white, and red plaid. I spent a couple of days plotting revenge and seeking out a suitable return volly only to find that the Postal service was running slow and what I thought would be the only card of the season from my friends was actually the start of a series. Each of the subsquent ones brought a smile and gradually my thoughts of revenge seemed more and more petty until the scotty had almost faded from my memory (as long as I didn't look at that part of the display wall).

And then today there was - - - a larger card, a cheerful card, a bright blue 'My Little Pony" on a sickly-sweet pink background.

I don't know. I'm thinking that the Card Fairy may deserve some sort of token of my appreciation for her care. Something special. Something worthy. I shall have to give it some thought.

(Oh, and sweet Card Fairy, I opened up one that came in the same mail service, looked at the picture on the front, said, "Awwww" in only that way that women do when something is especially adorable then flipped the card open to read your comment, "Cute, isn't it?" Yes, it is. Are you sure you don't teach art instead of Honors English?) :)