Okay, this is just the cutest thing.

The father of a family dear to us decided to capture an activity that he, his wife, and five children undertake each year: the packing of shoeboxes for the Samaritan’s Purse project. After the family completes its weekend of marathon packing, I generally hear a report from the mom, Jane (we are avid pen-pals). This year, though, Jane sent me a little gem wherein her husband Tim captured the process from the teddy-bears’ perspective!

In his free time, Tim is a passionate craftsman whose favorite art is woodworking. Truth be told, the approach you see in the video reminds me of the beautiful things he makes from wood. Furthermore, Tim is a quiet fellow. As someone who is not quiet (ahem), married to a man who is quiet (Hank), I am impressed by men with quiet demeanors, particularly when something like this opens up a window into their ebullient inner spirits.

After I expressed my delight at the clip, Jane said I could share it, although she may be surprised to see me share it here! I hope it puts a smile on your face, as it did mine. Beyond that, I liked learning how the film came about. Apparently, Tim and Jane’s youngest child made a stop-action clip as a project at the Richmond Science Museum (science and the arts together again). That clip gave Tim the idea of capturing this year’s packing extravaganza in stop-action form. And yes, they packed all those boxes.

Each sequence had close to 100 shots, which will not surprise anyone familiar with such animation. Yet, because I barely have the patience to peel a carrot, I find the technique staggering. Still, I could envision a stop-action film of me doing laundry. Maybe it would help curtail the flow of clothes headed to the laundry room. Or, what about a stop-action of me cleaning under the grandkids’ beds (better yet, one of them cleaning under their beds!)?

Nah, that’s boring stuff compared with teddy bears jimmying up a device to stretch rubber bands over a shoebox (a woodworker’s solution, seems to me).

We dwell in dark days—I needn’t tell you that. One thing has not darkened, though: the effect of bringing joy to others. The self-absorption blasted across today’s pop culture had less currency in an era when Salvation Army kettles bountifully dotted business thresholds and adults worked routinely in civic, school, and community groups to accomplish acts of charity year round.

Yes, I sentimentalize the past (a privilege earned over time). Nonetheless, the question has not changed: are we givers or takers, to use the language of my childhood? To no surprise, poets have tackled the same question, coming up with striking ways of describing the polarity. The neatly framed poem below has helped Wisconsin-born poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox 1850-1919 retain a small degree of fame today:

Getters and Givers

There are two kinds of people on earth to-day;
Just two kinds of people, no more I say.

Not the sinner and saint, for it’s well understood,
The good are half bad and the bad are half good.

Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man’s wealth,
You must first know the state of his conscience and health.

Not the humble and proud, for in life’s little span,
Who puts on vain airs is not counted a man.

Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years
Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears.

No, the two kinds of people on earth I mean,
Are the people who lift and the people who lean.

Wherever you go, you will find the earth’s masses
Are always divided in just these two classes.

And, oddly enough, you will find, too, I ween,
There’s only one lifter to twenty who lean.

In which class are you? Are you easing the load
Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?

Or are you a leaner, who lets others share
Your portion of labor, and worry and care.

Poets of yore rarely minced words. So here’s to all those whose fragrant words hold mirrors-in-verse before our faces. And here’s to those who devote themselves regularly to lifting others up, like the Elder family, whose handiwork brought about this sweet film.