It was not a cold day, but the weather channel had reported snow flurries in other parts of the state. Maybe it would have been a shirt sleeve day had not there been a constant wind blowing in from colder environs. Sitting on a bench bordering the sidewalk of the Outlet Mall, I was engaged in that fascinating pastime of people watching.

The price reductions on top of price reductions compelled me there. Normally, Christmas shopping excites me now. In the long years of my adult life no one yet has demonstrated good reasons why this phenomenon of American living cannot be put off until December 24^th. Consequently, the bench that supported me was surrounded by bags containing the rewards for those whom I have deemed as having for the last year being “nice.”

I’d watched her walking back and forth in front of stores fifty yards to my right and fifty yards to my left. Apparently bored of window shopping she turned and approached me. “Hi,” she said. “My name is Helen.”

“Hi, Helen,” I said, “My name is Guy. What are you doing wandering about the mall by yourself?”

She took a deep breath, hunching her shoulders as she did, exhaled and said, “My mom’s shopping in that store over there. She said she needed to buy some things for me and my brother and told me to stay out here. But I have to stay where she can see me when she looks out the door.” She rolled her eyes in a way that indicated her exasperation with her mother’s implicit statement of her young years.

“Would you like to sit down a while?” I asked. She smiled and sat beside me. “How old are you?”

“That’s a pretty big shopping bag you’re carrying around. You must have been shopping, too.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, “I bought everything for Christmas. I’ve got my gifts for my brothers and my dad and everybody in the family except Mom. Dad will take me to buy her present later.”

“Well, you’ve been busy this morning. I guess you’re happy you got all your shopping done early.”

“I am,” she said, “but I really think this shopping is kind of juvenile.”

She pointed to her bag, “I’ve got all these gifts here. Everybody I got a gift for is going to get a gift from a bunch of other people. I mean, look at me. I have everything anybody could want. I’ve got more clothes than I need. I live in a house that’s got rooms we never go in. Christmas is coming and I’m going to get more stuff than I have places to keep it. Don’t you think this is a little crazy?”

“When I realized I couldn’t remember what people gave me last Christmas. And if I can’t remember what they gave me that means it wasn’t that important to me.”

I stared at this astonishing child who sat beside me. For a moment I considered inviting her to preach at my church Sunday. Then she continued.

“I bet you there are people in this world who’d remember what they got for Christmas,” she informed me. That was the end of the conversation. Her mother called her. She bid me good-bye. I stared at my purchases and decided I’d done enough shopping.