Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, even more so than my own birthday. I guess there's just something about having family over, decking the tree with ornamental objects--some of which, I can remember crafting from art class--, watching TV specials and smelling the familiar scents of spices, and fresh cut Christmas tree wafting through the house that appeals to me. And I can't leave out the presents, because certainly that's every kids favorite part. And up until eighth grade, it was mine too.

It was after school, and the National Junior Honor Society was having a meeting. It was only our second one in the year, but it felt as if my friends and I had been in it longer. That day in early September, after setting up the food and drinks, as it was our job, we sat ourselves, and waited for the dismissal bell to ring, and for all the other members to start pouring into the library. When everyone was situated our sponsors began the meeting, explaining thoroughly what was expected of us in the coming months. We were to bring in canned foods for the needy on Thanksgiving, and stuff shoeboxes with presents, that would be shipped around the world to thousands of kids. It was called Operation Christmas Child.

During those few months I spent running around looking for items to stuff into the boxes, I didn't really think much of it, but it being another assignment with a due date. That is, until I received the magazine in the mail.

Inside was a thank you letter from the president of the company running the operation, and on the following pages were photos. But one in particular caught my eye, it was one that spread across the entire length of the magazine capturing a massive group of children holding onto gift wrapped shoeboxes. My eyes were automatically drawn to a little girl, who had her small hands wrapped around a distinctive silver package. Even though there were thousands of boxes shipped the world over, some of which I'm sure bore the same wrapper, I was more than positive the one photographed was mine. I stared down noticing the gigantic smile that brightened up the little girl's face. Knowing I had something to do with it brought me an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment, literally filling up my eyes with tears.

I remember wanting to stuff two shoeboxes, just because I wanted to do more than what was initially required. In retrospect, I'm glad I did. No feeling in the world could ever live up to what I felt looking down at that photo and realizing that my contributions made a difference to a child's Christmas. Not once but twice. I realized that day, that not every kid is lucky enough to wake up to find colorfully wrapped gifts, sitting under a brightly lit tree waiting to be pried open.

That was the last Christmas I ever cared about whether or not I got what I wanted. I just didn't find that it mattered as much as it did before.

Ever since then, when the holidays come around the corner, instead of contemplating what I want, I'll try to do something for those in need, like participating in charitable causes, or simply donating items. It's truly the best feeling in the world to know you're making a difference.

Some say that those kids were lucky enough to be one of the few to receive a shoebox, but I think I was the lucky one, because thanks to them, I now know that I want to make a difference in people's lives, maybe in save them.