Joy. Blessings. These are words we hear a lot during the holiday season, but have we forgotten the meaning? Has our society become so consumed with political correctness and appearances that we have forgotten about that it is okay to want to bless those people in our own lives who have touched us throughout the year? I ask all these questions in response to a new push I have been seeing in schools.

I’ve written about my family, and my journey through domestic violence to have my oldest son, find my wonderful husband, and to have my two other children. I sometimes think that in those struggles I forget to write about the joy God put into my heart that I refused to allow the hardships or people to steal from me. Joy is something I try to pass on to my children, but it is hard to do that on the days when my daughter (who is potty training) has accident after accident, my middle child (a son who is very, very flighty, but oh so very sweet) doesn’t seem to hear anything I say, and my oldest son (an 8 year old who thinks he is a man who doesn’t need his mommy) mouths off to me forcing me to punish him because I simply won’t tolerate a disrespectful child. Even on those day, I try to instill in them a little bit of the joy that God has given to me.

A few weeks ago the teachers sent home a letter instructing parents that in lieu of sending gifts for teachers we were to donate to a charity they had selected. I know the particular charity they chose this year does do good work. However, I was still upset because I immediately felt that these educators were unknowingly robbing the kids of the blessings of giving. Kids don’t care about their parents coldly, quickly writing a check to what is a faceless charity to them. They enjoy hunting down or making the perfect gift or card for their teachers. As I told my children about the letter, I could see the lights going out in their eyes because we had spent weeks talking about the perfect gifts.

Sure, these individuals responsible for decision making considered the less fortunate when they settled on the donation-in-lieu-of-gift idea. However, were they considering the children they are tasked with educating every day? Are we so focused on “the less fortunate” or “great charities” that we don’t notice the sad looks on the faces surrounding us? Have we become so consumed with helping those we deem worthy that we have forgotten about the joy of those who are blessed, average, or above average? I hope not, but this letter has truly made me doubt that.

In that moment of watching the clear disappointment on the small faces of my children from yet another stupid mandate passed down by the schools, I was reminded of a story I heard from an older lady who taught Bible study in one of the small towns surrounding Camp Lejeune, my husband’s last duty station before separating from the Marine Corps. I was a young Marine wife, and I was telling Miss Dolly about a dinner party I had had when she interrupted me to tell me that I had robbed the other women who came to my home of their blessing. I didn’t know what she meant so she told me that when people do things for us it doesn’t just bless us. It blesses them, and it helps them to keep their own joy and pass it on to others.