Wish lists

Christmas is fast approaching, and with it, all of the expectations for the limitless reservoir of gifts waiting to be delivered from the North Pole. My six-year-old son already has a list of twenty Lego’s sets that he wants. He hasn’t even started thinking about all of the other genres of toys, games, and sporting goods that he would like to find under the tree this year. My four-year-old daughter is more modest in her expectations, in quantity if not in quality. Her wish list only has four items on it, but these items are pretty ambitious. She would like a new kitchen (so would I!) and a horse (me too!). When my husband and I pointed out that the gifts on their lists are very expensive, my son patiently explained to us that they don’t cost Santa any money. Notwithstanding business lesson inherent in the overhead costs of legions of elves and a major manufacturing operation, it seems that a more age-appropriate lesson for my children this year is one of frugality and charity.

We are in a recession, after all, and we have just been exhorted by our inspirational president-elect to start making some sacrifices. We are coming down from a decade-long capitalistic binge, and we are all pretty hung over. The remedy this time isn’t a little hair o’ the dog. We’ve got to kick this thing cold turkey. Twelve steps all the way, baby. And, just as a recovering addict needs to reach out and help others in order to progress through treatment, I’m feeling a need to reach out to people who have been hit harder by the recession than we have. I want to go help at a soup kitchen, pack up Thanksgiving dinners to drop off at our church, buy new coats for children who don’t have enough warm clothes. I don’t feel like power shopping at the mall for multiple sets of Lego’s this year. To be honest, I have never been an enthusiastic power shopper. I’m finding that the pressure to tighten our belts and to make some sacrifices for the common good is oddly liberating.

The question is, how do I explain this to my kids? How do I instill a charitable inclination into them? Is there a certain level of maturity that’s required before you feel better about giving than receiving? My children have been inundated with stuff, practically all their hearts’ desires, since they were born. Their voracity for new loot isn’t their fault. They’re like crack babies, innocent victims of their parents’ failings. Their lifestyles are relatively modest compared to some of their friends in our well-heeled community. The age in years of our home computer is approaching double digits, we embrace hand-me-downs and leftovers, I can count on one hand our trips on airplanes since since they were born. But, we have a roof over our heads, good food to eat, and nice warm clothes to wear. We have lots of toys, a fancy school, ballet, soccer, chess, and piano lessons. We have more than enough.

I remember when I was little, maybe around seven or eight, my parents “adopted” a real live poor family for the holidays. From our church, we received a list of things that the family needed, clothing and household goods, and went shopping for these items, along with the makings for a holiday dinner. We packed all of these treasures into several boxes, drove to the other side of town (actually pretty close to where my father had grown up), and delivered them to a small grey brick ranch house with a postage stamp lawn made of dirt. A short, bald man in a white tee shirt answered the door. He accepted the boxes from my father while our family stood awkwardly on the cement front steps. I don’t remember coming away from this experience feeling good. I remember feeling weird and relieved when I got back to my own comfortable house. It might have helped if my family had discussed the experience – my parents weren’t big talkers when I was growing up – but I suspect that a brief awkward encounter on somebody’s front porch may not be enough to convey a sense of shared humanity and responsibility.

My goal for this holiday season will be to test this theory and do good for others in a way that my kids will feel good about. I don’t want the impact to be abstract to them, but I also don’t want it to be too awkward or frightening. I’d like to give them a taste of the joy of giving so that they want to keep doing more of it. My other goal will be to pare down the Christmas lists. Crack babies can’t give up their parents’ vices cold turkey – they need to be carefully weaned. I’m not sure how I’ll accomplish these goals and keep the peace in our home, but I need to remember not to underestimate the kids. They are sometimes very wise, and often very generous. If I let them in on the decisions and ask them for ideas for how to be more charitable, I am going to trust that they will embrace the spirit of the season – the giving spirit, not the shopping spirit - even if it means getting fewer Legos this year.