A year or two ago (maybe last year? I don’t remember) my husband asked about Christmas cards. I told him I wasn’t going to have the time to send them out, but if he wanted to get them ordered, envelopes stuffed, addresses written, and mailed, he could go for it. So he did. And now he knows what a large pain in the ass it is.


We were talking this year about cards and decided we wouldn’t mail them out. We figured, thanks to Facebook and Instagram, everyone we’d send a card to knows what our kids look like. Woven through the conversation was discussion about how we could spend the money we’d decided not to spend on cards and the fact that we have a friend who is irrationally irritated by cards that are simply signed with a name. (Like, generic boxed cards…no photos, no note, just a name. I get where she’s coming from.) So we decided to donate to the International Rescue Committee and we purchased shelters for 4 refugee families in our friend’s honor. I filled out the form to have the card sent to her, but she hasn’t mentioned it so I’m assuming she hasn’t gotten it yet.


Two birds, one stone. We were able to be generous and we avoided the work of sending out cards.


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