It’s A New Year
by Sharon A. Singer

Traditionally, this is a time to reflect on what we have done during the previous year and set our priorities for the year ahead. Without making use of this process we have a tendency to drift, and as the Bible says, “…are like the billowing surge out at sea that is blown hither and thither and tossed by the wind.” -James 1: 6b, Amplified Bible.
Jack and I have stepped out on a limb and proclaimed to the entire world that we are all about volunteering. There’s no chance of hiding or covering what we have done or are about to do. So it’s fair to ask us what we did to volunteer this past Christmas season. Before anyone actually asks us I’m going to tell you, because many others find themselves in less than ideal situations from time to time, as we have. Nothing to be ashamed of; it’s just a fact of life.
I’m not going to sugar-coat the truth. We were simply not in a position to do anything like what we would have done if times were better. On top of having very tight finances this year, Jack had to work on Christmas day, which was a blessing. But - there’s always a ‘but’ - it was supposed to rain and no buses were running! So it looked like Jack would be walking to work in the rain on Christmas Day. But I’m not trying to make excuses for what we didn’t do, I’m trying to illustrate a point: the point we wanted to focus on was how not to try to justify ourselves based on our situation, but to seeing what we could do in the midst of our situation.
There have been years when we had more money and resources to work with; more physical energy and abilities than we had this year. But while I felt depression looming, I was determined not to fall into this trap. There had to be a better way.
I got up off my circumstances and started doing what I could with what I had and kept on believing that the magical feeling of Christmas would, at some point, happen. I knew that wouldn’t happen without some effort on my part, so I threw myself into doing what I could with what I had on hand. I cleaned my house and then filled my kitchen with the smell of fresh baked banana bread. The smell of it invaded my senses. The time seemed to fly rather than dragging by dismally, as I expected, and somewhere in the midst of all this flurry of activity and sensory stimulation I realized that I was feeling a lot more cheerful. It was actually beginning to feel like Christmas.
I found myself wanting more. I don’t mean I wanted more stuff, more food, or more presents under the tree. I wanted more of that magical feeling of Christmas time; I wanted to feel the magic! I craved it. It was a force that drove me to try to think of other ways that I could intentionally bring about more, more, more!
As I took time out to call Jack to tell him I would be going to the store later, I could feel something urging me to I tell him about the banana bread that was now cooling on the kitchen counter. He sounded surprised and more cheerful in spite of the obvious frustrations he was experiencing dealing with shopped-out, cranky customers.
Still trying to keep myself focused on seeking more of the still-elusive Christmas spirit, I began to take stock of what I might have that could be used to bless someone with. It didn’t necessarily have to be brand new. I realized that, having been an artist and a buyer for a craft store before my stroke, I still had all kinds of art and craft supplies tucked away for ‘some day’; some day when I might teach again, some day when… I decided to repent of this. I didn’t feel the call to get rid of everything, but I decided that it was ridiculous to keep all this stuff in the hope that some day I would need it. What I needed was more space, and since I needed to clean out my craft cabinet to get it, now was a good time. I tore into the project with resolve, and when I finished I had a whole bag of craft supplies to bless someone with.
On a roll, I moved to the kitchen, where I flung open the cupboard and started going through it, looking for anything that might prove to be a temptation during our after Christmas fast. Before long I had filled another bag with items that, when looked at with different eyes, would make a good start on a festive Christmas dinner. I had to go to the store later to pick up cereal and milk for us, and I resolved to purchase the rest of the things that would be needed to complete that Christmas dinner. It wouldn’t be gourmet food, but it would make a good meal.
I had, without conscious thought, already made up my mind who the recipient of the food and craft supplies was to be. Earlier in the week I had treated myself to a trip to the craft store where I had purchased three gift cards for the daughters of a single mother I knew from our church. There was nothing like going to the craft store to buy your own ‘stuff’ I thought, savoring their anticipation of the excursion. Now I could envision them enjoying all the rest, as well. I called the mom next and asked her if she could come by to pick up the girl’s presents later that afternoon, when I knew I would be home from the store. I told her that I had gathered a few craft supplies for the girls to work with and had some goodies to go along with it. Cautiously, as though afraid to feel too hopeful, she agreed. Great! I hurried to the store so that I would be back in plenty of time for her arrival.
When I returned from the store I repacked the groceries meant for her into another bag and placed them on the table. I wrapped the purchased gift cards in colorful little gift bags filled with Christmas candy and stood back to admire the effect. I fussed with the presentation for a bit until I was satisfied that at last, the stage was set.
When she arrived I made a grand gesture and indicated the bags on the table and said, “There it is! Would you like for me to help you carry it to your car?”
“Which one?” she asked, as her eyes moved back and forth between the three bags.
“All three,” I replied.
The look of amazement and joy that came over her face gave me that still elusive rush of Christmas joy for which I had been yearning. I could see how this could become addicting because there wasn’t even the fainted twinge of depression left in me.
Later I had second thoughts. Was I able to do enough? Did I make a difference? The answer to these questions was really, really important to me. After all, that’s the name of our website and the purpose of our as yet unofficial ministry, so it really did matter to me. It’s what we’re all about!
By the time I had finished a cup of tea and meditated on it for awhile I had arrived at my answer. It was this: Granted, these were small things that we had done - but they mattered greatly to them and to us. We had made a difference!
For now we would have a ministry of small things that really matter.