There's an old song that tells the story of some grubby little boy that wants to buy Christmas shoes for his mom so she'll look good if she meets Jesus that night. She'd been ill for quite some time and his dad said there wasn't much time left.The song is just sappier than a maple tree, and it makes me cry every time I hear it. But, I've developed a plan-I pinch myself really hard or I bite the inside of my lip or I just switch the radio station. I've learned to deal with these "Christmas Shoes" in my own way. Then came the Angels. The angels I'm referring to are those that are on Christmas trees. They're paper angels that list the first name, age, and sex of needy children and what those children wish for Christmas. The idea is for someone to adopt an angel and provide what they want. There are three boys-ages 6, 9, and 11-and the only thing those kids want is shoes. Shoes for Christmas. Out of all the thousands of toys these boys could have asked for-all they wanted to ask for was shoes. Biting my lip ain't helping. Pinching myself isn't working, and I can't shut off my mind. I keep thinking about these angels(these particular ones are adopted) and the thousands like them. If at all possible, adopt an angel of your own or make a donation to an angel tree.Please.
A special note to my mother-This is NOT intended for you.Do NOT adopt one more kid.
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