Operation: Gratitude, Part 3

I'm so glad we did this.

I'd be lying if I said this whole thing was a walk in the park. Starting out, things weren't so pretty. There were some tears and anger, and it was frustrating for both F and I as he was trying to understand all that I was trying to explain to him. Around the time I was ready to throw my hands up in the air and give up, F asked me to wait "right there" before he hopped off his chair and ran down the hallway. We had been getting ready to write our letter, so I doodled on a piece of paper while I waited. 

And waited, and listened to the sound of F digging through his toy box and then to the sound of his entire toy box spilling onto the floor until he came running back with a little purple truck in his hand. I should have taken a picture of it this, but I think my emotions fogged up my brain. I want to send him one of my own toys, too, Mommy. Yup. My kid is awesome.

We talked about how special Christmas is and we talked about what Christmas looks like for us. We go to Grammy and Grampy's house and open our presents, but mostly we go home and we spend time with the people we love. That's pretty special. And then we talked about all of the homemade gifts we're working on for loved ones this year, and how love goes into everything we make and wrap and give to our friends and family. And then, we wrote this letter:

Hello.

My name is Finley and I am almost 4 years old. I live with my Mommy in a city called Halifax with our cat, Duncan. He is orange and soft. I go to preschool when my Mommy is at work. It is fun, and I make lots of friends there.

I hope you like the present we picked out for you. I have a soft bunny, too. I sleep with him at nighttime. I packed one of my trucks for you to play with. My Mommy makes Christmas special for me, and we want you to have a special Christmas, too.

The most special gift is invisible in your box of goodies, but we hope that each time you hold or play with one of your toys, you can feel the love that we packed them with.

Happy Christmas!

Love your Canadian friends,

Finley and Ashley (Mommy)

Even though the Operation Christmas Child boxes are being collected this week, you can still make a difference in a kid's life. Head on over to the Operation Christmas Child page on Samaritan's Purse website and donate, or fill a box online. 

Operation: Gratitude, part 2

First, I have to admit to something: I cheated.

BUT I didn't buy the two pairs of boots on Beyond The Rack that I was totally in love with and instead, went out and got all of my Operation Christmas Child goodies during my (three hours behind schedule) lunch without F. I have to admit... I chickened out on bringing him anywhere near a toy section. And I will also admit that I bought him a small treat to make sure that he's not feeling badly about this whole giving toys away thing... which he will get after everything else is finished. In case you're interested, it's a box of crayons. From Dollarama.

It hadn't really occurred to me that a 2-4 year old boy wouldn't be the easiest to shop for, and considering I only have a shoe box worth of stuff to choose from, I had to really put on my thinking cap. I picked up some socks, a storybook, crayons, a notebook, a t-shirt, and a canvas bag which this little boy can decorate and carry his things in. I also got him toothbrushes, soap and a stuffed animal. I tried to find candy that was individually wrapped, but then I realized that when F was two years old I wouldn't have given him any candy at all, so I decided to give up. I may change my mind yet.

Finley with our OCC box!

Now that the present itself is taken care of, it's time to start writing a letter so I asked F to tell me what he'd like to say to a little boy at Christmas. We started working on our letter but didn't finish it, so you'll have to wait until tonight or tomorrow for the final draft.

Christmas is such a commercial holiday for us here in North America that even the best of us get wrapped up in the excitement of shopping for and wrapping and opening gifts that we forget what Christmas is supposed to be about. Even a family who doesn't observe Christmas as a religious occasion can agree that Christmas is about love and family.  

I am guilty of making Christmas about Santa Claus for F, and while I don't think that's a crime in itself, I believe that I'm robbing F of the true meaning of Christmas by letting Santa and his elves have all the glory. As we get closer and closer to the most wonderful time of the year, I look forward to reading The Christmas Story as much as The Night Before Christmas. I'll look forward to telling F about Baby Jesus and the miracle of love, and you better believe I'll love using "the elves are watching!" as a method of modifying his behavior. In addition to the toys and the movies and the fun that F will be getting this Christmas, I want to give him more.

I'm giving him the gift of gratitude. Of love. Of sharing. And, most of all, of giving.

Operation: Gratitude

I was a spoiled kid.

In fact, I am still spoiled. My parents bought me a dozen roses and my entire family showered me with gifts and love and awesomeness and a disgusting amount of delicious, delicious food last weekend as we celebrated my graduation a year after starting PR school. If you were near me right now, you'd be able to see the drool dripping down my chinny-chin-chin because the food was that awesome. Broccoli salad should be illegal, you guys. 

But I digress. Spoiled rotten I was, and remain to be so I guess it won't come as a surprise that my sweet little guy is also spoiled.

F has so many toys that he has a full collection at my mom's house and a full collection at my house. He's got movies, books, an iPod Touch and all kinds of cool gadgets that didn't exist when I was a kid. I take full responsibility for spoiling my child. I want him to have all of the nice things I had growing up, and more. I want to give him these things, and when I can't it breaks my heart. And, admittedly, I've been giving him things to try to compensate for his dad not being here.

But it's time I give him more. I'm going to give him compassion. I'm going to give him understanding. I'm going to give him more love. And today, he's going to give toys to someone else as we fill a box full of items for a child in need this Christmas. 

My parents gave me toys and clothes and stuff, but they also gave me morals and values and a desire to make the world a better place. Now, I work for one of the biggest, most recognizable charities in the world and I help people day in and day out. It's time F learns how amazing it is to give. It's time F realizes how lucky we are. It's time he learns what gratitude is.

Will it be easy? Probably not. But it will be worth it. Stay tuned for photos, videos and a copy of the letter we send to a 2-4 year old boy in need this Christmas.  

Gratitude

I still can't believe 2012 is coming to an end.

A year ago, I toasted to "the best year yet" with J as we rang in the New Year. It's no secret that my year didn't turn out the way I had been anticipating, but that's OK. If it had, I wouldn't have made the new friends I've made, gone back to school, landed my new job or caught some of the dreams I'd been putting off chasing. I'd still be wondering who I am.

When I look back on this year - at all of the ups and downs and roundabouts - I know I couldn't have made it to the other end without two amazing people: Mom and Dad. Just like when I was a little girl, they've helped me up, doctored my bruises and held my hand as I took the next few tentative steps.

Thank-you. In the words of F (and Lightning McQueen):

 

You're the BOMB!

I love you both more than I'll ever be able to express.

You have inspired me, encouraged me and admittedly, you've pulled me back to earth when I was floating off to the clouds again. You've made me the woman I am today, and I hope you're as proud of me as I am of you.

Without you, I couldn't be the Mom I am to F.

Without Mom's guidance, I wouldn't be able to fold a fitted sheet (and I still do a miserable job of it). I also wouldn't be able to make biscuits or open a bottle of wine. Priorities, after all.

Without Dad's help, I never would have gotten furniture into this apartment. And I wouldn't have had that hideous plastic cards table to eat canned soup at with Evan when all of my furniture was thrown out of that other ghastly apartment.

I haven't figured out the words to express my gratitude just yet, but I'm working on it.

I can't wait to tackle 2013 with you - but I promise I'll go easy on you... you are getting old, afterall.