The ringing that fills our ears after a round of grocery shopping brings us down to Earth. It reminds us that it's the time of year to dig deep down (even if we don't feel like it) and find not just loose change, but those parts of ourselves that are still flesh-and-blood and fueled by kindness. Platitudes aside, here's what I mean:
During the past week, Jewel might as well have been renamed "Realm of the Rude." Not staff--but fellow-shoppers. I've gotten snark after wandering into the express line (which I honest-to-God hadn't even noticed was an express line) with one item over the limit. I've had a woman ahead of me shoot me looks that would freeze Queen Elsa because my apples came too close to her Fannie Mae Meltaways on the conveyor belt. In the parking lot, drivers are alternately giving each other the bird and verbal expressions of how truly "wonderful" we can all be during the most wonderful time of the year.
So, a trek out to buy coffee filters and take advantage of Eddy's "buy one, get one free" special runs the real risk of devolving into a meet-and-greet session for local Oscar the Grouch wannabees. People--myself sometimes included--go into defensive posture, avoid eye contact, aim to get in, get out, and seemingly detach from even the simple interactions that distinguish us from hyenas. Happy holidays, everyone!
Back to the bell though. What's its transformative power? After all, I'm implying that it can turn the hardest of Dickensian characters in a warm, Jello-esque glob of good will, right? To quote my sixth grader, 'kind of, sort of, maybe." I suppose it depends on each of us and where we are at any particular moment. To me, however, the bell brings me back. Not to Christmases past, but to the reality that this world can be a rough place to eek it out--and that we're all capable of making it a bit easier via (can you guess it?) kindness.
As a reference author, I've written a book on the Salvation Army. Do I agree with all their alleged positions on modern socials mores? No. Do I (overall) respect the work the SA does, especially around the holidays? For sure! Do the red-kettle bells do something for me personally? Absolutely?
First of all, they zap me out of crabby zombie mode. Even if I don't have a dollar to drop in the kettle, I put my peevishness on hold for a minute. Why? Well, as I fly out of Jewel, typically having purchased way more frivolous indulgences than not, I see someone who's often been standing in the cold for several hours straight. Someone who's got a tough job if ever there was one--convincing people who are hell-bent on Grinchiness to give, to open up, and to get back to being a person who feels a sense of social responsibility. Not an easy gig that. As a result, I always find myself compelled to at least say "Hello!" to the bell ringer, regardless of whether I make a donation at that very moment. And you know what? When I don't have any spare singles or quarters lying at the bottom of my purse or coat pockets, bless the bell ringer--he/she still returns a smile and a greeting with an even bigger smile and greeting. Thus kindness becomes contagious, and I leave Jewel having been bitten by the bug.
Ideally, when I do have something to slip into the red kettle, one or all of my kids are with me. And, every time they are, I can see their little minds begin turning. "Why do we put money into that red bucket, Mommy? Why does that man ring the bell? What do you mean--not everyone gets a lot of toys for Christmas? Why? Wait, I have a great idea! If we give up some of the toys we don't use anymore . . ." So the bug bites again. Now they're thinking about what it means to give and be kind. And now they'll think about it whenever we hear the bell ringing over the red kettle, which adds up to quite a few occasions throughout the holiday season. For all these reasons, the bell ringer is a big game changer in my book, as well as a chance to keep us kind (versus varying versions of Ebeneezer Scrooge).
The game-changing kindness: The bell-ringer not only collects money for the Salvation Army; he/she helps banish the Grinch hiding out in many of us.
How it changed the game: For me, the sound of the bell is a reminder of how to be a human being again. It also serves as a jumping-off point for discussions with my children about why kindness and giving are important.
How it could change my/your game: The holidays are touted as the most wonderful time of the year, but they can fast turn into a source of stress, crabbiness, and the exact opposite emotions than what they're supposed to embody. Luckily, reminders exist to prevent us from forgetting the important stuff. The bell's a reminder, so we have no excuse not to remember to be kind.
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