We have two Christmas give-away programs at my church. One is between members, the Secret Santa, and the other is called Family to Family, where one family adopts a less fortunate one for the Holidays.
I will sign up for the Family to Family today. My Secret Santa experience was confusing because I mixed up the two programs. I was given the name of a widow and her two teenage sons. The presents were not the problem. Delivery was.
Driving twenty miles east of Ann Arbor, I was surprised to find only country fields and trees around me. Suburbs disappeared. My IPhone directed me up a long winding lane to a brick palace. Not believing this was the destination of my somewhat humble presents, I called the house leaving a message that I was leaving the gifts at the garage door entrance.
Then I called the church office to make sure I hadn’t written the address down wrong. Sure enough I was parked in the lane of the widow. I rushed to open the car’s back door, taking out the gifts. Just as I placed the presents on the driveway in front of the garage, the door started grinding up.
I ran to the car (I’m 74), shut the car’s back door, leapt into the driver’s seat and drove away without securing my seat belt. I don’t think the widow saw me, but she could have written down my license number, FDR OHN, a rather telling sign that it was me.
The Family to Family schedule is more personal and less stressful.