I’ve been working on Salvation Army Christmas kettles since I was seven. Although sometimes I’ve done it with less than ideal enthusiasm, I always come away with a good feeling and a story or two to share at work the next day. Here’s a brief glimpse into some of my encounters over the years:

There was the man who looked at the display of bottled water next to the kettle and asked me how much they cost. I told him I wasn’t selling them, but the store’s price was $2.99 for a case. He promptly deposited a loonie and a toonie in the kettle, picked up a case of water and walked away! I was completely flummoxed—what to do? If I chased after him, I would have to abandon the kettle, and that would never do. So I had to resolve in my heart that he had already paid inside the store, and was having a bit of fun with the kettle worker!

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Another woman, bent over by her years and perhaps arthritis, donated a loonie and an apology. “It’s all I have to give,” she said. “I only have so much money, yet I can’t go by a kettle without donating. But when I give, I hope it reminds other people that they should be giving, too. And I’d like to think that it encourages the person who stands at the kettle. It’s not much but, at my age, it’s just a little something I can do.” It was quite a speech, and I started to tear up inside just listening to her. She achieved her objective that day, and for just a moment, I forgot about my cold hands and feet because of the warmth this one woman brought to my heart.

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Two parents brought their children over to donate because, as they said, their son or daughter “insisted” that they give. What an example to all of us, that no matter how young or old we are, we can still show we care.

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Then there was the woman who was shopping at her local liquor store. I was just making conversation with her about how busy the store was. “Well,” she said, “it’s like death and taxes, I guess.”

“What is?” I asked.

“Booze,” she replied. “You know. It’s one of the things you can count on in life—death, taxes and booze.” Growing up in the Army, that’s one perspective I never would have thought of. It’s always interesting to stand with a kettle outside a liquor store since so much of the Army’s work involves helping people whose lives have been negatively impacted by alcohol.

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Another time, on a break from my kettle shift, I went inside the grocery store to warm up. Since I wasn’t there to shop, I wandered by the display at the deli counter. When the worker offered to help me, I told her I was just admiring the food. But the thought struck me—what must it be like to only be able to admire the food and never afford to buy any of it? It was something I’ll never forget, as it directly related to why I was there at the store, receiving donations to help people in need.

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Often on my kettle shifts I’ve encountered people who seem to go out of their way to avert their eyes. I’ve sometimes wondered, What would it be like to have to ask for money or food all the time, not just at Christmas?

If you’re reading this and want an experience that will give you a story or two of your own to share, why not call your local corps or ministry unit and see if they have a kettle shift you can do? You’re sure to gain a new perspective, both on those who are being helped by the donations and those whose giving helps the Army do its good work.