Christmas Story 09-2010 • Annie Maher
Diary Of A Reluctant Bell Ringer...
December 9, 1984: The job at the florists shop I was praying for fell through. Then Betty called-a true friend in need-and told me that the Salvation Army is hiring people to ring bells outside stores for Christmas donations. I always thought they only used volunteers. (Later I learned that what with so many families needing two incomes these days, there just aren’t enough volunteers to go around-so they fill in by hiring some people with financial needs. That’s me, all right.)
December 10: Irony. Today I applied for a job as a Salvation Army bell ringer. If I got it, I’d be collecting money for charity, and here I am with four kids and we need charity ourselves. It’s the second Christmas since my divorce and it looks pretty bleak.
December 1: Well, the Salvation Army offered me the bell-ringing job from 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m., starting tomorrow, and I took it. Now I’m having second thoughts. It’s going to be rough, standing out in the freezing cold all that time-and the pay is minimum wage, $3.35 an hour. I started worrying about the arthritis in my right hip, so I called the clinic to talk to the nurse there. She said, “Dress warm, walk back and forth, and give it a try.”
I’m ashamed to admit there’s something else bothering me. Put in plain English, this is a begging job-begging for money. I know it’s for a good cause, but I wonder if I’ll feel awfully uncomfortable and embarrassed.
What do people really think about people who stand on the street asking for money? What do I think?
December 14: First day on the job. I went off looking like an Arctic explorer. Three pairs of slacks, three sweaters and one pair of long johns. All the bell ringers met at the Salvation Army office. Lieutenant Jeff gave us each a brass handbell and a red kettle. We started with a prayer and then the Lieutenant loaded us into a van.
I was dropped off first. My post is at the Farmington Center Mall. The others helped me unload my tripod with the red kettle. Linda, a veteran bell ringer, shouted some advice to me as the van pulled away: “Keep ringing the bell, just keep ringing the bell” And then I was on my own.
It took a while to get the knack of ringing. I found that holding the bell with my arm bent up got very tiring. By experimenting, I learned to ring it with my arm almost straight at my side, using my wrist. People traffic didn’t really pick up until around 11, and then a lunch-hour crowd of shoppers came from 12 to 1:30. By that time I was feeling more relaxed. I started saying “God bless you” instead of just “Thank you” to people who made donations, and then I began to smile at anyone who made eye contact.
By midday, my toes were icy-cold and I realized l’d need something warmer for my feet. When the Lieutenant picked me up at three, I was really dead tired, and my legs were stiff from standing in one place-I forgot about walking back and forth! My face is windburned, so I’ll have to use some Vaseline on it tomorrow.
December 15: The day started with hot oatmeal and two aspirin for “pain insurance.” And I borrowed Joey’s nice warm “moon boots. “ The first person to put money in the kettle was a woman with a very worried face.
She asked me to pray for her daughter, who seemed to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Later an elderly man wanted me to pray for his sick son-in-law. I did pray for them. Then I started praying for people passing by whether they donated or not.
December 17: Today an old rusted-out gray pickup pulled over to the curb near me, and a woman on the driver’s side rolled down the window, grinned at me-no teeth-and motioned for me to come near. She looked like a mountain woman, maybe 55 or 60. I put out my hand, and she dropped a small, fat plastic bag in it and then she drove away, still smiling from ear to ear. My eyes must have been as big as saucers, because the bag was full of pennies and nickels with a few single dollar bills tucked in.
I’m sure she needed that money as much as anyone. Some of the people who give money certainly surprise me.
December 19: I’m getting to know the “regulars”-men and women from the senior citizen complex nearby who walk over to the mall for daily exercise, the young maintenance man who’s very shy but friendly now that he knows me. Police cars go by three or four times a day, and there’s one officer in particular-he sits so tall in the seat he has to bend down to look out-who always smiles and waves to me. It’s interesting that a couple of times on my coffee break other customers have insisted on paying my check.
December 21: Woke up feeling a little down in the dumps and not really looking forward to work. I know it was from having to drag on so many heavy clothes and face the bitter cold weather. But there were other reasons, too. This is a tough season for people with flat pocketbooks. The whole emphasis is on giving, and what have I got to give this
Some of the people who give money certainly surprise me. year? Little things can turn you around, though. About noon I was standing by my kettle ringing away when a big man around six-foot-six stopped and said, “I bet you don’t recognize me.” Before I could answer, he said, I’m the policeman that waves at you.” He told me he admired what I did and wanted to shake my hand. Not long after that, the mall loudspeakers played a carol medley with “Little Drummer Boy.” And I thought, Maybe I’m like that boy, but instead of playing a drum I’m ringing a bell for Him.
December 23: Looked out the window this morning and six inches of snow had fallen-it was so beautiful. Ann and I shoveled out the driveway and then put up the Christmas tree that Kevin had prepared. At the mall there were a lot more children now that vacation has started, and I got a little teary thinking about my own kids, wishing I could make a better Christmas for them. The busy, cheery mood of the shoppers picked me up after a while. Many more people feed the pot as it gets closer to Christmas.
Around 2:00 p.m. a man stopped quietly in front of me-nice looking, salt and pepper-beard, well-dressed, about 35 or so, and said, “Why aren’t you preaching the gospel of Jesus instead of collecting money?” Without even thinking twice, I told him that when people are hungry, they can’t concentrate on what you have to say. “Besides, I said, “didn’t Jesus say to feed the hungry?” The answer seemed to satisfy him, and afterward, thinking back on it, I see how much my attitude about this work had changed. Instead of feeling self-conscious about this job, I feel 1’m fulfilling what the Lord taught His own followers.
December 24: Just before the Lieutenant picked me up to go home, something touching happened. Two women stopped to put money in the kettle and I complimented one of them on the hand-made ornament she was wearing on her coat. It was a charming little patchwork wreath. Before I knew what was happening, she took it off her lapel and pinned it to my jacket. I started to protest, but she interrupted and said, “Never you mind. Let me give you something.” Then she softly wished me “Merry Christmas.”
Tonight, while everyone was getting ready to go to midnight Mass, I had a few minutes to sit in the living room by the tree. I thought about my children. They each have found a way to tell me that they weren’t expecting a “big” Christmas this year. Even so, this house hardly seems big enough for all the Christmas spirit being generated by four lively kids and one tired but contented mother.
By the way, it didn’t seem right to get paid for my work today, not on Christmas Eve. My earnings went into the red kettle.
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