Just this morning I put the finishing touches on a holiday blog post that struggled to say anything festive given the general state of the world. Climate disasters, failing democracies, plague and pestilence, not to mention personal loss. The world is going to hell in a handbasket. I tried to mock my own pessimism, to add a note of good cheer, to put a little water in those half-empty glasses, but it wasn’t working very well. I had to leave the not-quite-finished draft to meet a commitment I’d made to help pack Christmas “baskets” in a church basement. Now, I think I’ll save the doom and gloom for another time. I’m sure there will be future opportunities.
I’m not a church member or a church-goer. But sometimes I pitch in when the local United Church reaches out to the wider community. I have friends active in the church who give me a shout when they can use an extra hand. I’ve roasted a turkey, helped serve, and washed dishes for the church’s annual community supper in November—available to anyone for a voluntary contribution, with meals delivered to those who have trouble leaving their homes. That’s been scuffled these last two years thanks to the COVID part of “going to hell in a handbasket”. (Oops–that general theme is for the later post.) But last year, when a friend asked me if I could help with the Christmas baskets, I agreed. Then the Easter baskets. And now it’s Christmastime again.
I arrived at the church at 11:00. Countertops were cluttered with children’s books and toys of every description. The freezer was filled with turkeys, the coolers with milk, eggs, and cheese. Empty boxes (not baskets, really) were piled on tables beside numbered cards saying “single man”, “single woman”, “couple”, “family of 5, 2 teenagers”, etc. More families than ever this year, I’m told. To protect their privacy, I think only one person knows the names that go with these numbers.
One woman was busy matching toys with families. The rest of us started doling out gifts for the adults—plush blankets, small household items, personal care products, hand cleaner and masks. At 11:30, when the groceries showed up, we burst into high gear, making sure every family had fruit, potatoes, carrots, cereal, bread…the list goes on. All donated by the community—other churches, service clubs, and individual families. The local elementary school has a canned food drive, and I overheard people who’ve been doing this for years talk about how meaningful it is when the school kids can participate in distributing what they’ve collected—another activity quashed by COVID.
Within two hours, the boxes were filled and being loaded into vans, to be delivered to homes.
It’s hard to make this an “interesting” story, but that’s the point. Some iteration of this process is taking place in church basements and community centres all over the country this week and next. It’s just what people do. Yes, the world is going to hell in a handbasket, but by focusing on global failings, it’s easy to overlook the generosity of individuals and communities which continues—no, intensifies—in spite of pandemics, climate disasters, and economic dislocation. So today I’m celebrating that. There will be time enough for the other in 2022.