How not to be charitable

The least our family could do was get an angel off the Angel Tree.

That's what I thought when my 7 year old son brought home a permission slip.  Apparently, he'd told his teacher he wanted to participate in the annual charitable drive in which you take a paper "angel" ornament off the tree at your local church or school.  Inside the "ornament" is written the specific needs/wants of a child in the area. After you and your child have shopped for the child, wrapped the gift lovingly, and re-attached the ornament, you return it to the school and the present is delivered to the child for Christmas.

At least that's how it's supposed to work.

"Make sure you don't lose the tag," my kid said. "It's how they know whose present it is."

With trepidation, I opened the tag.  I'd heard of some of the underprivileged children wanting iPods.

"A ruby red shirt, size small," I read aloud.  "A pine green shirt, small, and royal blue jeans, size seven."

Just clothes.

I made a vow to add a few extra goodies into the package and to add other clothes in different colors to boot.  (After all, I work for SixSeeds -- I'm a professional giver!) 

That night, after the emotion of reading the kid's sparse (but oddly color-specific) Christmas list, I dealt with the issue more practically -- I placed an order with Land's End.  I knew it would've been a lot better to go shopping with my son, to let him pick out the clothes, and to sip hot chocolate while I wrapped it.  But I honestly didn't have that kind of time.  

Fast forward to yesterday.

"Mom," Austin said.  "The angels are due back tomorrow."

I mentally went over my list of packages that had arrived.  No Land's End. 

"Great," I said, and changed the subject.  But during dinner, a miracle happened.  The UPS man delivered the Angel's gifts. 

What can Brown do for you? He can save you a last minute dash to the only store open in our town at 7 o'clock at night: Wal-Mart.

As I happily opened the clothes, and prepared to wrap the present, I realized the tag with the kid's list on it was no where to be seen.

"David," I said, trying to hold back the tears.  "I can't even be charitable correctly."  There was no way to tell where to send our package, and I envisioned a precious little boy sitting empty handed on Christmas. It was too much to take.

This morning, while Austin was at school, I looked under ever magazine, under the television in the kitchen, and even dared to open the "junk drawer."  (Does everyone have one of these, in the kitchen by the stove? I fear Jimmy Hoffa lives in mine.)

After hours of searching, I called the school and the kind secretary said she'd kept a record of who got whom.

One final problem.  In my mind, when I thought about packing up the kid's presents, I thought I'd add toys in the box as well... a detail I'd forgotten about until lunch.  That's when -- in Austin's closet -- an old gift bag caught my eye.  It was left over from last year's birthday -- or was it the year before?  Someone had given him a present which he'd stuffed in his closet and forgotten.  It had a gorgeous dinosaur book, a box of Lego's, and a miniature NASCAR.

Jackpot!

While wrapping the presents -- alone since my son was at school --  I vowed to do better next year.  "I'll incorporate my son into the effort and put more thought into the gift myself," I thought, while pushing out the guilt of "regifting" for my Angel.

"Austin will never miss these toys," I thought, trying to justify my inattention to this simple project.

Which, of course, is exactly the point.