Jingling Bells

Tis the season.
We all have come to expect the familiar ringing of the brass bell outside all of our favorite retail shops this time of year. As we walk up to the entrance of the store we see that bright red bucket and hear the constant ringing of the bell held by the very hopeful hand of a Salvation Army volunteer hoping to get our attention and perhaps some spare change. Many times we are too busy, or don't want to deal with the inconvenience of rummaging through our pockets to find a donation. But, there are those times when we look at the shivering body of that eager helper, and know that our small sacrifice is worth so much more to many than the cost to ourselves. It is in these times that we slow our selves down long enough to realize, THIS is Christmas, and this is what matters. Sometimes we just require a little extra reminding.
Today, I decided it was officially time to start the "Christmas shopping panic." Although I still have more than three weeks to go, it seemed like the proper OCD way to go. After work, with toddler in tow, I decided to hit a favorite shopping location of mine in the hopes of crossing a few names off my list. Sure enough, when I reached the door I saw the familiar sight of a Salvation Army volunteer ringing her bell. Because Patch was in a hurry to meet up with a friend of his who had already gone in, I thought I would stop by her bucket on the way out. My shopping extravaganza was anything but, however I did manage to pick up a few things after a leisurely stroll throughout the store. When we exited the store I noticed the sound of the bell was intermittent at best. I looked over to the ringer and saw that she was leaning on the wall, turned AWAY from her bucket chatting wildly on her mobile phone. I should have been above it, but I just could not bring myself to drop a penny in. Though I know the money would have gone to serve a wonderful cause, the thought of someone taking such a cavalier attitude while asking people to GIVE what little they may have (in a recession no less) really rubbed me the wrong way. What happened to the days of graciousness?
The Christmas season has just begun. I know my family will drop money in several buckets around town, as we do every year. But today's experience really has tarnished my naive attitude towards charity. I want to feel as though my contribution means something. That by taking the time to donate, I am improving the situation of someone else. Today I only felt as if I would be interrupting a phone call.