“Remember, we’re only here for the things on our list,” I told the kids as we walked into Target. The store was brightly decorated for Christmas, full of things to catch the attention of young children like mine, but my husband and I were on a tight budget. I settled newborn Bradley, still in his car seat, into the front of the shopping cart and gave it a push.
Truth be told, I wouldn’t have been shopping at all this December evening if I hadn’t been desperate. Our fourth child had arrived only two and a half weeks earlier, and things were crazy at home. If we were going to have any toilet paper, I had to get it now. My husband was still at work, but I thought I could make a quick trip to Target with the kids. What was I thinking?
“Get off!” Jamie, my eldest, snapped at her younger brother.
“I’m not touching you!” Christopher answered, stretching out his finger to almost touch her.
“That’s enough!” I said. They’d been fighting like that since we piled into the van. “Jamie’s looking at me!” “Christopher is sitting on my seat!” “Jeffrey’s kicking me!” At least baby Bradley wasn’t old enough to argue.
I steered the cart into the paper products aisle, first on the list. I tossed in paper towels and tissues along with the toilet paper. Next stop, laundry detergent.
Despite my warnings, the older kids were still fussing. I reached for a bottle of floor cleaner and hesitated before dropping it in the cart. You won’t have enough for diapers. I put the floor cleaner back on the shelf.
“Can we go to the toy aisle?” asked Jeffrey.
“No,” I said. “Santa is coming soon enough.”
“We’ll just look,” said Jamie. “We promise.”
“Please, can’t we?” Christopher chimed in.
Bradley shifted in his seat. The last thing I needed was for him to get upset. A choir of pleas continued.
“Can I get stickers?”
“Can I get this keychain?”
“No. And no.”
“That’s not fair. How come Jamie gets stickers and I can’t have any?”
“No one is getting anything!” I said. As if on cue, Bradley started to fuss. Then cry. Then wail. I could feel every head in the store turn toward us. I leaned on my cart and told myself to just breathe. Lord, I need your support!
I got a move on and turned into the infant care aisle. We headed for the diapers. Jamie tossed a sippy cup into the cart. “It’s for Bradley,” she said.
“Take that out,” I ordered, raising my voice over the baby’s crying.
“But he likes it.” She reached into the cart to fish it out and wave it in front of the baby’s face. Her brothers followed her lead, grabbing things off the shelves to see if Bradley showed interest. Bradley cried harder.
“Stop!” I sputtered. “Put it all back right this minute.”
“But Mom…!”
“The baby needs…”
“I want…”
“Can we get…?”
“He’s touching me!”
“I am not!”
“That’s enough!” I said. My mom voice got the kids’ attention. “Everyone settle down.” I lifted Bradley out of his seat and rocked him gently to soothe him.
Over Bradley’s head I noticed a middle-aged lady approaching me. Here it comes, I thought. She was going to complain about my unruly children. Maybe ask me to take the crying baby outside. Or at least demand that I get my family under control. I braced for the worst.
“I was a young mom like you once,” the woman said. Her tone was warm and friendly, nothing like the judgmental scold I was expecting. “It is so hard when you have little ones.” She looked around at the children, who, for the moment at least, had stopped fussing and fighting. “I really commend you for being brave enough to come to the store with them.”
She really does understand.
The woman pulled something out of her purse. “Each year at Christmastime I carry a small gift for someone God picks out. Today he’s chosen you for a simple blessing.”
She put a white box in my hand, then turned and walked away. The kids circled around me. I was too stunned even to say thank you before the woman left the baby aisle.
“What is it?” Jeffrey asked. His tone was hushed. The other kids didn’t say a word. Even Bradley’s cries petered out. I opened the box. Inside was a little ornament to hang on the tree. Jamie held it up so they could all admire it. I bounced the quieted baby in my arms. A blanket of peace seemed to have settled on us all.
The children were model citizens in the checkout line and on the van ride home. Their dad was surprised I’d managed with our brood in tow. “It’s quite a story,” I said. We hung the ornament low enough so everyone could see it.
That ornament still has a special place on my tree today. Every year, my grandchildren ask me to tell the story of the long-ago shopping trip when their parents were children like them. They sit quietly listening to every word, while the Christmas blessing from an angel at Target touches a whole new generation of kids and their young parents.
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