My Journey: A Bell-Ringer for the Salvation Army:
(A first-person account of A Bell-Ringer Volunteer)
Have you ever wondered about the bell ringers with The Salvation Army during the holiday season? I have to be frank and admit that mostly I didn’t care one way or the other. However, I’m grateful to God this year for opening my eyes and heart in a way I could never have imagined.
My first encounter with The Salvation Army happened as I was eating a pancake breakfast in support of another charity. As we struck up conversation, it was clear that God was about to use them to reveal a truth about myself.
The Salvation Army officer intrigued me. As he began to share his story, I found myself enthralled by it. Through many years of hard, humble work and prayer, he was lifted from homelessness into a position of significant authority. Though busy with many responsibilities, he was a man of peace, calm and assured, not cocky, just grateful.
After a few minutes of introductions, we were talking like old friends catching up and sharing our life’s journeys. He shared his story, but he was also interested in me. I could tell my story mattered- He never asked or twisted my arm to volunteer; he didn’t have to. God already had my attention and told me He had equipped me for service, based on the power of his life story.
We signed up and eagerly awaited the day for our first bellringing shift.
I had visions of what it would be like, and I have to admit I couldn’t wait to for the day to arrive. I had planned to be festive and entertaining, bringing numerous funny hats, necklaces, and ears to entertain the old and the young at heart. Well, life happens, and I woke up with a case of vertigo and nausea. As I contemplated whether to go or “call in sick,” – God seemed to whisper to my heart that I didn’t need gimmicks, hats or tricks. I just needed to show up and be myself. My vertigo was God’s way slowing us down so that we don’t not to miss the important stuff.
The weather was perfect on that day, not cold or too hot, sunny and breezy at 70 degrees. My husband and I checked in at the local Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market in the early morning and set up in the front of the store. I was so anxious to begin that I started ringing the bell about 6 minutes early!
My husband and I did our best to recognize, be polite, and speak to each soul we encountered. To some, it softened their rigid exteriors, and to others, we were still invisible as their lives were too busy or too overwhelming for them to see anything else.
I watched some people walk far around and hugged tight to the side of the building to avoid me, the bellringer, just an unwanted panhandler in front of a business asking for money. We heard all the excuses. “I don’t have any cash,” or “I am in a hurry,” “I will catch you on the way out,” to “I already gave at another store,” etc. I have been there and said all those things, and they were often true.
We never directly asked for money or were we pushy; we just greeted passersby and wished them well as we rang the bell. God is not intrusive and is slow to anger. He rings the bell and waits for you to develop a giving and thankful heart for His Mercies.
Others made me smile big as they thanked me for being there and helping this great cause and need. Some even gladly sought me out to put money in the Kettle and would share their story of a time when the Army had helped them or a close friend during life’s lowest points.
One lady thanked me, saying, “I could hear that bell as soon as I got out of my car, and it reminded me to bring some cash in with me in this plastic world because I know the Army is doing good in this community.”
I so loved seeing the children come to the Kettle. Parents would give them change and dollars and instruct them to put them in the Kettle. I remembered those childhood years when my parents taught me the value of giving to others.
As one woman approached me with her fingers in her ears, God reminded me that not everyone’s ailment was visible. As I silenced the bell, she thanked me and apologized for overly sensitive hearing. So many times, we are blind to the invisible pain in others.
At the end of the shift, the red Kettle could barely hold another bill or coin. The Salvation Army van drove up and collected our Kettle. As the van was packing up and we were packing up to go, a lady came out with money in her hand and asked if it was too late to donate. Not this night! The money went into the Kettle before the van drove away. I pray the Lord is patient with you and me and that we are in the Kettle of God’s will for our soul when he comes to gather us home, too.
Yours truly,
R. Davis