By Beth Painter

I walked through the mall today. The twinkling lights and familiar music were a welcome relief from the vitriol permeating my television and social media pages lately. 

Besides, with 19 days to go, it seemed appropriate to get ideas for gift-giving and my personal wish list.

I love Christmas. I love baking cookies and wrapping presents and decorating. And while I am not normally a shop-till-I-drop kind of girl, I love thinking and planning and buying the perfect gift.

For me, the joy of the season comes from celebrating the birth of the One I call Savior. But all the other stuff is fun too. When I passed Santa, I waved and shouted that my wish list was at a nearby store. I’m still just a big kid, especially at Christmas.

Remember when you spent hours circling what you wanted in the Penney’s catalog? Remember when you knew you would just die if you didn’t get that special toy, game, or electronic gadget?

Remember when you knew you would just die if someone in the office gave you a gift and you didn’t have one to give in return?

Remember when you knew you would just die if you didn’t have the right clothes for the Christmas dance, the Christmas office bash, the party at the wealthy church family’s home?

While I am not a parent, I remember years when the budget was tight and presents were few. It hurts, no matter what age you are.

Here is what I also know to be true: No matter where you live, there are people nearby who have desperate needs every day, through every season.

We learn to look right through those folks. Sometimes we tell ourselves they are lazy, comfortable in their “entitlements” and beyond help.

But know this: behind the adult we scorn for not pulling his or her own weight, there are often kids.

Innocent kids. With no voice.

Maybe they don’t attend your child’s school. But they exist somewhere within your reach.

Do you really see them?

Do you have any idea how desperate life can be when one or both of your parents is a substance abuser or a convict?

Do you ever stop to imagine how hard life is when your single-parent works two jobs, still can’t put food on the table, and is never around just to be Mom or Dad?

Do you have any idea how much you wouldn’t care about spelling or algebra if you didn’t have a blanket on your bed, or a coat to wear, or breakfast?

No matter what your feelings about “entitlements” are, no child deserves to have a lousy life.

What would happen if every one of us redirected 25 percent of our Christmas spending?

What if we choose not to buy for the relative who has everything?

What if we choose not to participate in Secret Santa at the office?

What if we choose to limit what our kids found under the tree and, as a family, shopped for a kid who may otherwise get nothing.

You’re right ... some people spend their assistance money unwisely.

That isn’t the fault of their children! Yes, I am yelling about that.

Kids need coats. They need decent clothes — more than one pair of jeans, more than two shirts. They need shoes that fit and warm socks and underwear that doesn’t have holes.

Mostly, they need to know someone — anyone — cares.

Those kids become teenagers who learn how to take what they don’t have. Those teenagers become adults lacking in education and job skills ... and the cycle repeats.

Opportunities to help abound. Coat drives, mittens/gloves/hat trees, Angel trees with all the pertinent information — a needy child’s sizes, favorite color, coveted toy.

You won’t need to look far. And it won’t be hard work ... in fact, it may be the most fun you have during this Christmas season.

What if we all decided to be grateful, then be generous?

What if we teach our kids to understand how blessed they are, then SHOW them how to be generous?

What if you changed one kid’s life? And your co-worker changed one kid’s life? And your church changed 200 kids’ lives?

What if we start a revolution of kindness and caring in our towns?

You say, what if it doesn’t matter?

But what if it does?

Beth Painter is a freelance writer and motivational speaker. She lives in Butler.