Jesus in a shoebox

For the past few years, we've participated in Operation Christmas Child, the ministry of Samaritan's Purse through which rich Americans (and other rich countries too, I presume) fill shoeboxes with toys and other useful items that are then sent to children in the developing world who might otherwise not receive any Christmas presents. (why yes, you certainly may hire me to write the blurbs for your nonprofit). In theory, I like these opportunities to remind myself and the kids how the world is full of people in need, and that we've been given much and, therefore are charged to DO SOMETHING. In practice, however, I am conflicted. How shocking.

So, we load up in the car this morning and head to Walmart, because it is close, and because I assumed we could get more for our money there. Then we get there and I remember why it is that I rarely shop at Walmart: everything looks really cheap, only it really isn't. The kids would pick up some cheap looking toy and the price would be $6.97, and I would picture some sweet kid in Guatemala playing with it once and then it would break into large sharp pieces, which their baby sister would crawl over on the dirt floor resulting in a bad cut on her knee which would really need stitches, only the nearest  doctor is 50 miles away, so she gets a raging infection which then turns into cellulitis and there are no antibiotics in their village and it is all WALMART'S fault but everyone knows you can't file a class action lawsuit against Walmart if you live in Guatemala. Then I realized that we are buying the kinds of toys that I generally avoid buying for my kids (you know: plastic, garish, in need of excessive batteries...) and what kind of message is that sending to my kids? That we don't want this junk littering up our house, but it's super special for some poor kid in Madagascar?? Anyway, I managed to keep functioning in spite of this chaos going on in my brain. We ended up also going to Target, because for some reason the stuff in the Dollar Spot somehow seems a tad less crappy, and it really is just a dollar. Although, I always have a vague unease when things are so cheap. A few weeks ago, the husband and I walked through the store Forever 21 (while we were strolling through the mall after my birthday dinner) because I had never been in there before, and a blogger who puts together these really cute outfits and then tells you where she buys everything seems to find lots of cute (and super cheap) things there. We got all the way to the back and I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of the trendy gaudiness, and the husband said something like, "You can practically smell the sweat of all the child laborers it took to sew all of this crap," and I had to agree.

So, now that I've totally ruined it for all of us, here are the spoils. May the children who get them be blessed beyond measure, in spite of our paltry efforts. See Jesus and his love for you in these flashlights and crayons and Matchbox cars and Hello Kitty gel pens and princess Polly Pockets. But please know that this is not even close to real treasure. And also please don't let your baby sister swallow the batteries from your flashlight.