Toys for Tots 2008

Not many would disagree that it's been a difficult year financially. For those of us already struggling, it has been that much more challenging. Christmas came with dread. Fear of disappointment loomed like a dark threatening sky over picnickers in a field. We tried to pretend it was still sunny. We sang Christmas songs. We reluctantly put up our tree. Our smiles were thin and wan.

We could not afford the joy of giving, which was always the best part of celebrating for me.
My children are not toddlers. They no longer expect Santa to magically pop from the fireplace leaving wrapped gifts beneath the tree. And they understand our family circumstances. I had prepared them for the fact that we had no holiday money this year. They knew we were scrambling for food and rent. I also knew that at eleven, my son still held out hope for a miracle of sorts, to bring him some shiny new plastic that might require batteries.

Two weeks before Christmas, I received a phone call saying Toys for Tots would help. I breathed a sigh of relief. For my older children who were over 18 this made no difference, except that they would feel better for their younger siblings. But my 13 and 11 year old children, would not have to return fearfully from their holiday vacation to school, with children brimming with excitement to share their lists of holiday booty and inquiring, "what did you get?".

I was scheduled to bring my kids to a church to pick up their holiday toys. I hoped they were wrapped, since the kids were coming along. I wanted to put gifts under the tree for Christmas morning. Not an uncommon hope for a mom at the holidays.

I have no car. My dear friends drove us to the church. The kids were a little put off about it's store front appearance. But we soldiered on and in. A smiling woman greeted us into the room
with chairs lined in neat rows, and a podium at the front. Slowly the room filled with others hoping to get their toys from the program promising to cheer Christmas.

A pastor entered to greet the group. We expected the usual sermon of gratitude and holiday spirit. Perhaps a bit of encouragement to the parents who felt set back, down trodden, lost and failed. But pastor Cohn launched into a proselytizing speil, filled with shock and awe such as
George Bush had not imparted these last eight years. My 13 year old was incensed. My 11 year old was traumatized.

"You thought you were just gonna walk in here and walk out with TOYS, didn't you?" pastor Cohn exuded. "Well you're not! You will not leave here without taking the Lord into your hearts!" She boomed at us, "you do not have to depend on your baby-daddies for survival! Look to the Lord for help! If you do not accept Jesus into your hearts you will go to HELL! You are no match for the Devil!" She thundered into my young son's face. I was shell shocked, and torn between not wanting to appear rude, and self preservation. And she tore on, shouting about her experience as a high class prostitute in New York, and then accepting Jesus into her heart. We do not have to live the shameful life she did, she said. My 11 year old son's eyes were wide. He didn't know whether to burst into tears or laughter, and sat there instead looking very confused.

We were rescued by our friends who had been waiting anxiously in their car for over an hour of their Christmas Eve, while we were being bashed over the heads with religion. The pastor was deep into the sermon that would continue for another hour. We had to leave without our toys. I hoped I was escaping with my kid's sanity intact.

"I just wanted a couple of toys," my son whimpered. Yes, I'd just wanted a couple of toys for my two youngest kids. Instead, I'd gotten them assaulted with an unexpected and unwelcome experience they won't soon forget. One I wish I could stop my young son from repeating. He is now prone to suddenly jumping up in the air, knees practically at his ears, screaming, "you're goin' ta heeeellll...."

It may take years of therapy to make it stop. Even then I'm sure he'll dream about it. I know I will. As I understand it, Toys for Tots is a program run by the US Marines. Do they advocate this sort of treatment? I was fortunate enough that my children were old enough to understand that their family is broke, their dad totally disabled, work is hard to find, and their mom not the picture of good health. They were grateful just to escape. Even my son agreed calmly to leave without the toys.

So Christmas came without whistles, it came without bells, it came without packages, and toot tooters and HELL! We played games, and sang songs, we opened our small but meaningful gifts; my youngest son bought at his school store, and the babysitting money my daughter used at Dollar Tree, the family gift my oldest son bestowed, great fun in a box. The dollar slinky from WalMart, a package of tatoos, fun socks. Our gifts were few, some hand made with love. Not much, but still, warm smiles and love. The things that truly make our holidays happy.
The very sort of holiday with the spirit of the season at heart. Family, friends, love and care.

Yet, come time for school, I wonder what my kids will say to others armed with cd's, movies, clothes, toys, name brands brandished and bandied... without a harrowing experience sponsored by Toys for Tots?