I grew up with generous giving.
Not that it was discussed. More like witnessing some folks modeling “how to” giveof their time, money, and talent.
(By folks, I mean mine.)
I didn’t think it was anything special.
More like a way of life.
Like treating my cheerleading squad to burgers at McDonalds (when you could do that without robbing your bank), mentoring young people, sponsoring worthy projects, and volunteering their time.
So, it was a no brainer to share my stuff and volunteer my time.
It certainly wasn’t required nor a part of building a “college worthy” resume of community service. (Today’s pressure on kids to volunteer as a way to impress does feel a bit off, even though the side effect may be a good one.) It was just something we did.
When I was young, it was fun, made sense, and I had company.
So, I shared clothes with friends, ran backyard fairs for muscular dystrophy, and volunteered as a candy stripper at the local hospital.
(Full disclosure: I did skip on the “feeding the patients” duty as I was more into drinking milkshakes while hiding in the library with my friends. And I wouldn’t have been caught dead in those pink and white striped pinafores outside of the hospital. My adolescent self shudders to think of it to this day).
My husband and I shared this desire to raise our daughter within this model of “generous giving.”
From the time she entered school, she was involved in projects and discussions about giving. She was used to volunteering, gathering school supplies, delivering Holiday gifts, and shopping for specific families in need. We discussed as a family how we might support worthy projects around the world. And how to say no to the countless requests we received over the phone or at the cash register if they didn’t fit into our giving plan (even when they were someone else’s worthy project).
Kids don’t miss much.
She noticed when I quietly picked up the check for the older woman dining alone we had chatted with at dinner. I hadn’t known it at the time. When she pointed out an older man eating alone one evening, she asked if we could pick up his check. In time, I witnessed some of her own acts of generous giving and realized she must’ve witnessed other small anonymous actions.
Fast forward to this week and the surprise appearance of the “Awww” Factor or Awe Factor.
I knew my Dad wanted to reach out to friends and colleagues to fund next year’s tuition costs for the Love Orphanage kids in Haiti. Great idea. Really worthy AND much needed. We had 19 kids on the road to education with the Be a Difference Maker program my daughter had created. The goal was to create sustainable funding so all Love O kids could receive the education they deserved.
He was proud of my daughter’s intent and signed on as a Difference Maker. I watched my daughter edit her Grandpa’s letter to seek funding for private school tuition. Reverse generational modeling. I enjoyed that immensely. And then we all moved on.
Out of the blue, the gifts rolled in. Just like that, lives were transformed.
The impact of strangers. Based on their trust in my Dad, inspiration generated by my daughter, a worthy need, and, most likely, a habit of generous giving. I felt that warmth of happiness spread through my body.
You know, it is a scientific finding, that warmth thing.
