The holiday season is upon us and as usual, it gets me thinking about those who are less fortunate than I am. I know it sounds cliché to say something like that, but for some reason this time of year illuminates certain situations, makes them stand out more so than usual. In a way, this gets me angry, because people are struggling every time of the year, not just during the holiday season. But I have to say, at this time of year especially, people are left wanting, children in particular. Or the togetherness and prosperity of others is so obvious, so enhanced, that less fortunate folks are forced to witness what they have not.
My seasonal heartache started off with a story my mom told when I saw her on Wednesday. She’s a school nurse and had seen a little boy in her health room who was dirty, hungry, and not well cared for. Long story short, he was six years old, hadn’t eaten breakfast, and hadn’t had any dinner the night before. When asked why, his response was something along the lines of “Sometimes we don’t have enough food. We have dinner some nights, but last night we didn’t.” He was wearing shoes without socks, and my mom gave him a pair of socks and a pair of sneakers he could keep. She made sure he’d had lunch and planned to make sure he’d be fed if he came to school again without any breakfast.
The sad thing is, this is but one small story of many I have heard from my mother over the years.
I remember a Christmas a few years ago... a little girl had come into my mom's health room exclaiming over a book she just had to have. All she wanted on earth was this book she saw at the school book fair. "I'd read this book over and over. I'd never want another book again," the girl said, the way kids do when they're really in love with something and being dramatic, but full of real passion.
My mom said, "Maybe you can ask Santa for it for Christmas."
The girl said matter-of-factly, "No, my mom said Santa isn't coming to our house." She knew not to expect anything for Christmas. And above all, she knew she wasn't getting even that book.
My mom bought her the book and sent it to her home with the return address reading: Santa's Elf. She also knew the girl had siblings, including an older sister who once said to my mom that she never had "cool" clothes and was so happy when my mom gave her a pair of my old outgrown jeans. So we went out and bought a bunch of "cool" clothes from Old Navy and a bunch of other Christmas gifts for the family, including gift certificates to McDonald's and gas cards. Then my mom wrapped it all in a big box and sent it to them for Christmas, as Santa's Elf.
I'm sorry, but as much as stuff like that makes me feel so damn good, it also breaks my heart, time and time again.
I’ve worked at the Boys and Girls Club of Allentown in the past when I was a college student, and I think my heart broke on a weekly basis – for children who didn’t have enough food, for a child who talked nonchalantly about living in a shelter with his mom, for a child who bawled her eyes out when there were no more hot dogs at field day because she’d had her little heart SET on one and hadn’t eaten anything all day.
I’m a Caseworker for Child Care Information Services, so in my line of work, I see a ton of kids who aren’t living the lives they deserve. I know of a bunch of families, come wintertime, who won’t be having much of a Christmas. I’ve heard a lot of sob stories, as they’re so deemed, but you know what? They ARE sob stories. They’re sad. They make me sad.
I wish I was someone who had a lot of money to spare, because I would make sure no one that crossed my path went without, especially during the holiday season. The last two years, I "adopted" a person from a shelter, giving him the only present he got to open on Christmas day. I guess stuff like that is all I can do, but somehow it never seems enough. It's only November, and I'm already slightly heartsick.


