”It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” or so the song tells us. Although we hear reports of people over-extending their credit and over-indulging their appetites, the Christmas season does bring out the good in humanity. Today our family saw that up close, when we rang bells for the Salvation Army.

Three years ago, our extended family took a short mission trip that included Christmas day (see blog two days hence), and ever since, some of us have wanted to try another service project. Linnea investigated the Salvation Army and learned they were still looking for bell ringers. We signed up for two-hour time slots at two Walmart entrances and this morning took our turn with the bells.

The Salvation Army is a Christian church started nearly 150 years ago in England. Although their greatest passion is to see people saved by grace through Christ, they also work hard to help those they call “down and outers.” Their strategy is to follow three S’s: first soup, then soap and finally salvation.

The Army is one of the most popular charities in the world, ranking #4 (of 100) in the United States and operating in 122 countries. They’re often the first to show up at disaster areas and the last to leave, sometimes working for years to help refugees in one area.

This year there were over 25,000 volunteer bell ringers during their annual Christmas fundraiser, each wearing the red apron and standing next to the traditional kettles. Children love to “feed the red pots” and banter with the bell ringers, hoping for a chance to handle the bell.

It was a cold day in Michigan City but all the babies joined us for the event, bringing lots of attention and extra donations because they were there. Skylar and Nicholas never tired of putting coins into the kettles, scrutinizing the sidewalks for stray pennies (and finding them), after our supply had run out.

I’m ashamed to say how few red kettles I’ve fed over sixty-plus years of seeing/hearing them in front of stores. After being a ringer, I plan to contribute to every kettle I pass. It embarrasses me to admit I wrongly assumed ringers were there as a form of community service or even punishment for a crime. To the contrary, they’re all ringing because they want to help.

Our first donator was a woman shepherding six children. She made the effort to dig out a contribution, showing her children what it looked like to be a cheerful giver. Others dug into their pockets, wallets and purses, even if it took several minutes. Some came straight from the parking lot with donations already in their palms, prepared to participate.

A special donator was the woman who asked if I was cold. When I said, “Only a  little,” she said, “Do you drink coffee?” Then she offered to buy a cup and bring it to me, a kind gesture I won’t forget.

I’m not sure how much money we raised for the Army’s three S’s, but it was an honor to wear the red apron, greet shoppers with “Merry Christmas!” and ring the bell.

Maybe we’ll do it again next year.

“The poorest of the poor will find pasture, and the needy will lie down in safety.” (Isaiah 14:30)

Nate’s family came from western Illinois, mine from the Chicago area. Once we had children, we made good use of route 80, our link between four loving grandparents.

I remember one summer when Nate and I took our then-five children to visit Grandma and Grandpa Nyman on a sweltering weekend. We were able to stay an extra night when Nate decided he could take the train directly to Chicago’s Loop early Monday morning. The five youngsters and I would follow on Monday afternoon in the family car, a robust Jeep Cherokee.

After waving goodbye, we started down route 80, the car windows wide open and the music playing loudly on the cassette player. Our children, ages 12, 10, 8, 4 and 2, were all enjoying the trip when we pulled off for gas and a bathroom break. But as the Jeep slowed, we heard a raucous banging coming from under the hood.

I pulled into a little country station at Rock Falls and left the motor running, hoping a mechanic would listen to the racket and tell me how to stop it. His news wasn’t good. “Lady,” he said, “when you turn that engine off, it’ll never start again.”

I thought he was exaggerating, but apparently the car had run out of oil. Parts had broken off inside the engine and were crashing against each other. I considered filling the gas tank without turning the car off, then resuming our trip. After all, the vehicle was still running.

While the kids ran around the gas station and the car continued to pound, I called Nate at the office. He squelched my idea to keep going and told me to park the car wherever the gas station guy directed, then turn it off.

“I’ll come and pick you up,” he said, as if we were just a hop, skip and a jump from where he was. Rock Falls was over 100 miles from his office, and coming to “pick us up” was going to ruin his business day and put him behind the wheel for four hours.

But this is what love does. It rescues.

I think of the Christmas season in that light. Jesus loved us so thoroughly, he made the ultimate sacrifice to rescue us. He laid down his life. But it was much more than that. He never did one thing wrong yet willingly took the blame for all of our wrongdoings. He could have said, “Human beings are a big disappointment and aren’t worth saving.” Yet he rescued us anyway.

On that summer day in Rock Falls, I’ll never forget the rush of joy we all felt when Nate’s black Lincoln came into view and turned into that little gas station. The seven of us, along with four suitcases, squeezed into his sedan with a spirit of celebration and gratitude.

Our rescuer had come. All was well.

This Christmas, may the rush of joy we feel over God’s Son coming to earth overwhelm us with a spirit of celebration and gratitude like no other.

Our Rescuer has come. All is well.

“Jesus gave his life for our sins, just as God our Father planned, in order to rescue us from this evil world.” (Galatians 1:4)

Christmas time puts many extra items on everyone’s to-do list. Our brains quickly clutter with gift ideas, entertaining opportunities and necessary errands. As we go about the usual responsibilities of our week, seasonal tasks take priority while everyday duties slide.

A few days ago, after yanking a stack of cash from the local ATM, I pulled into the bank lot to organize my wallet and prioritize my errands. As I sat with a wad of bills in one hand, my list and a pen in the other, I saw in my periphery vision a man approaching my car. “What now,” I thought.

He rapped on the frosty window, and I looked up from my organizational work through irritated eyes. He smiled, then pressed something flat against the window for me to see: my ATM card.

Racing to start my errands, I’d forgotten to pull the card from the machine. This kind man had done it for me and amazingly had noticed my car in the nearby lot.

If he’d chosen to keep the card, he could have headed for the nearest Walmart and gone on a spending spree; I’d recently deposited $10,000 into the account in preparation for paying Birgitta’s college tuition bill.

Feeling ashamed of myself, I rolled down the window and accepted the card. He smiled and said, “I thought you might need this.”

Despite having a fist-full of twenty dollar bills, I was too stunned to offer one of them as a reward for his honesty, and I feel badly about it. Parting with $20 (in the face of losing $10,000) would have been a bare-minimum thank you gift.

Performing “random acts of kindness” has been a popular theme among celebrities and on talk shows in recent years, people doing nice things for others without expecting anything back. The man who returned my card was being kind without expecting anything from me, but had I given him a reward, I’d have had the joy of participating in a random act of kindness… just as he had.

Jesus was the perfect model of kindness. He healed, blessed, taught, served and performed a variety of miracles for the benefit of others. One lavish act of kindness was feeding 5000 hungry people by miraculously dividing five rolls and two fish to generate food for all.

As the disciples walked among the masses distributing the meal, did Jesus’ hands get tired from breaking off bits of bread and fish? There were 5000 men there that day, with women and children probably doubling that. Since all were satisfied after the meal, he probably tore many thousands of pieces with fingers that surely got sore. This deed was truly kind.

And did he receive anything in return? Although the story is told in all four Gospels, none mentions Jesus even eating his own meal that day.

During this season of Christmas gift-giving, each time I pull out my ATM card, I’ll think of the stranger and his random act of kindness. But I’ll also think of Jesus, who went out of his way repeatedly to be kind to others and is still doing it today.

“God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to bless you abundantly…” (2 Corinthians 9:7,8)