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How A Church Turned A Christmas Blessing Into a Curse: Why Good Intentions are Never Enough

Christmas came up at a church meeting this week. We were all sent home with a question to ponder:


"How can we as a church love and serve the people around us this Christmas, both inside our walls and out?"

When the idea of a toy drive came up, I immediately found myself immersed in conflicting emotions. Caught off guard by my own reaction, I had to go home and unpack some baggage I didn't realized I carried.

If you've been following this series for the last 11 weeks, you know our family has lived a traditional, small town American lifestyle for most of our married life. My husband, Mike, and I have raised nine children mostly on one income. I say "mostly" because as a police officer in a small community, Mike often worked in more than one precinct so I could stay home.

We were used to making sacrifices for our chosen lifestyle--a large family, country life and one wage earner. Together we made it work and took pride in our calluses. Even through the Carter years, Mike never went without work until a pulmonary embolism knocked him down.

For the following two years, we depended on the grace and support of our church, friends and community as he recovered. That first Christmas, I suppose a similar meeting was held in another church. Someone must have brought up the local police officer living outside of town with his house full of children.

Unbeknownst to us, our names went on their list.

Just a few days before Christmas, a strange car pulled into the drive. A man and his wife came to the door carrying a large bulging garbage bag and a cardboard box. They dropped the bag on the floor and handed me the box with a cheerful "Merry Christmas" and went on their way.

The box was filled with a frozen turkey, a canned ham and various canned goods. In the bag we found a wrapped present for each child. The tag on the gift didn't have a name on it-- just an generic "Girl age 9" or "Boy age 3."  I was so thankful. It's been so long ago I don't remember-- but I probably cried.

We locked ourselves behind a closed door and unwrapped each gift. Determined who would like what, and then wrapped them again with his or her name on the tag. We all felt blessed beyond measure.

Then it all turned on me.