Little Helping Hands

I'm a silver-lining girl. As the great losses in Haiti fill my TV, my brain focuses on the fundraising and the awareness efforts. Links to the Red Cross popped up on favorite TV shows and websites all week. Millions of dollars raised so far. Donations of time, money, and services from corporations, movie stars, and every day folks — despite the recession. It tugs at my heart. I feel connected. I want to share that connection with my kids.

Last Thanksgiving my family started a Helping Hands Fund. Talking about things we're thankful for — Daddy's job, our house, shoes, blankets — we explained that some people don't have those things. The kids wanted to donate money to help, but didn't have any money. We let them earn money by doing simple chores around the house — pick up five toys, throw away four pieces of trash, clear off the kitchen table. It felt good to watch the kids slide their newly-earned pennies into the Helping Hands Bank.

Two weeks later, my boy (age four) felt tricked. "Mom, I don't want to do it anymore. There aren't any kids who don't have shoes!" This from the boy with two pairs of shoes plus boots by the front door. Rather than googling for images, I let the issue rest for a few days. His enthusiasm returned when we counted up the money and sent it to school with my daughter (age ten) for a Christmas-time fundraiser.

I congratulated myself for being such a good mom and then forgot all about the Helping Hands Bank. Today my boy picked up three toys and dropped a new penny into the bank. "I want to earn two moneys next time," he said.

I'm not ready to tell him that houses can fall down, that whole cities can be flattened in minutes, that food and water can suddenly be all gone. I could. I could tell him about something sad that happened very far away. Haiti's disaster could be a teaching moment. For now, I choose to protect him from the sadness and the fears.

He'd never believe me anyway.

Author: Nanette