The Season of Giving

Ella has a new pink coat and a matching, fur-lined purse. She carries the purse with her everywhere she goes, toting at least a pound of pennies from her piggy bank. We decided to do some last-minute Christmas shopping at The Greene, so it was only natural that Ella wanted to drag along the purse. "You'll lose it," I said, and rolled my eyes as we attempted to buckle her into her carseat. She had her doll Ava stuffed into her coat and her pink purse clutched tightly to her chest. She persisted and I gave in.

We got to The Greene: I didn't have change for the parking meter, and neither did Derek. Ella produced three shiny quarters, which bought us the exact amount of time we needed to shop. We shopped and bought and moved in and out of stores, and Ella never lost sight of that purse.

On our way back to the car we saw a beautiful live nativity scene. We took it in for a moment and talked about the true meaning of Christmas. They had a sign up: "Donations are warmly appreciated." I suggested to Ella that I was going to give, and she dug her tiny purse from the bottom of Carson's stroller. Derek lifted her high, and we watched as she dumped the majority of her precious coins into the metal container.

That was my Christmas gift — that no matter how much we have screwed up our youth, our cars, and almost every new year's resolution, there is one area where Derek and I are doing something right. That little something just gave of herself for the benefit of others, who were there to tell an important story on a cold winter's evening. And that, my sweet daughter, is something I want you to read about when you are feeling down on yourself someday. I'll hold this memory forever.