Bits for Sunday, December 6, 2009

Before I launch into my intended topic for today, I thought I’d give you an “only Bekah” story for your reading pleasure.

You might have seen in a post below that this week I had a bit of a nail tragedy, which resulted in an emergency run for a set of fake nails. I used to have my nails done all the time at the salon, but I had to give that up a few years ago so I could address more pressing responsibilities – such as electricity and a car payment. Though I probably could swing such a luxury now, I continue to avoid it so I can support my Hobby Lobby habit. When the emergency hit this week, I did the unthinkable and purchased a box of nails in the Wal Mart.

Sounds tacky. Looks good.

Saturday I headed out to the Gaither store to do some Christmas shopping, and I also took my new day planner to transfer birthdays and anniversaries from my current book. It was such a lovely moment. I ordered a chai…I sat down at the little bistro table, I spread out my day planners, took a little peek at the David Phelps serenade playing in the background, and looked down at my hand…and my thumb nail was gone.

Not my thumb nail, you understand. The pretty fake one glued on top. Gone. I immediately flashed back to a story I heard as a kid...about Sandi Patty meeting some important person, giving her a hug, and realizing her Lee Press On nail was stuck in the lady’s dress. I could only imagine where my thumb nail might be. Had I run my fingers through my hair after I walked in the store? Was there a random thumb nail stuck in my hair?

It’s not entirely (or even remotely) ladylike to try to do a self-imposed thumbnail body scan in the middle of a busy store, but I gave it my best shot. After my chai was gone, I also did a scan of the store to see if the nail was resting comfortably on any merchandise I’d passed. Only after making my purchases and leaving the store did I discover it firmly planted on the front seat of my car. Remind me to start carrying nail glue.

Okay – now to my regularly scheduled programming.

As you know, the Christmas season is upon us in full force. Tonight’s goal is to finish signing and addressing all Christmas cards so they can go in the mail this week. Then I need to get busy on the wrapping.

Tis the season for cards and wrapping – and also for giving to the needy. All the causes can become overwhelming – even though they’re good. I hate to admit that in years past, I’ve been somewhat of a Scrooge with the charitable giving. It wasn’t because I wanted to be mean. I truly think I was too overwhelmed by requests from all sides, so I just didn’t participate in anything.

This year I resolved to learn the joy of giving. My first invitation came at the gas pump a couple of weeks ago. My gas station (well, I don’t own it, but it’s where I always buy my gas) offered a promotion for 3 cents off per gallon for a limited time. Of course I still ran the tank to an even $20, and when I went inside to pay, the cashier said to me, “Would you like to donate your 18 cents in change to Riley?” I started to say, “No thank you” out of sheer habit, and then I thought about her words.

Eighteen cents, Bekah. You won’t miss eighteen cents. It won’t kill you to give. So I scooped my change out of the chute and dumped it in the jar beside the cash register and walked out – with my heart one size bigger than it was when I went in. Great. I’m a reforming Grinch.

From there, I visited the grocery store for the meat sale (I’m a meatatarian, you know), and when the cashier handed me my change, I kept it in my fist so I could visit the Salvation Army kettle on the way out to my car.

This past week at work, we were invited to bring a non-perishable food item every day from now until our Christmas break. Whatever we collect as an office will be taken to a local food pantry. The first day of the food drive, I peeked inside my cabinet and spied the perfect contribution: a can of chickpeas I bought for some chili – and then decided not to use because I hate beans of all kinds.

The chickpeas will rot into an ugly death on that shelf, so I figured it’s better to give them to the needy. Right?

Wrong.

From the depths of my brain, I remembered a canned food drive we had in junior high. The seventh and eighth grades were pitted against each other in a contest to see who could bring the most food. A number of us seized the opportunity to clear our parents’ pantries of vile foods such as peas and green beans – and we happily dumped them in the boxes provided. However, one of the teachers reminded us that the idea of a food drive is not to get rid of what you hate…but to share with others the very kinds of things you love.

How did I remember that FROM JUNIOR HIGH?? Let it never be said that my fine education was a waste.

Reluctantly I put the chickpeas back on the shelf to continue their life of rot, and I reached deeper into the cabinet for one of my beloved cake mixes.

You’re probably much better at giving…but if it’s a struggle for you too, just think about reforming alongside me this December. Push past the chickpeas and reach for a cake mix.