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.
Even when controlling for individual’s income around the world (across 136 countries), people reported greater satisfaction in their lives when they were giving to others. This is especially true when three things were in play: giving is a personal choice, there is a sense of connection (to strangers or those known to you), and an impact is made.
As the thank you letters and pictures of the children left our home yesterday, I felt we were batting 3 out of 3: choice, connection, impact.
Warm hearted, I realized that being a witness to giving also had its perks.
I was deeply moved. You could say I had a glow from giving – even from the witness seat.
At the end of this story, all 19 Love O kids are funded! Another year of the Change Their Lives type of influence for these future Difference Makers in Haiti. Check out their sweet Thank You below (from last June’s Culture Camp).
Better than a milkshake any day.
Remember that choice, connection, and impact are important. Feel free to find your own place to make a difference with your time, talent, or moolah. This big wide world has needs are vast, so feel free to warm your heart your way.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Research has identified one way more money can make us happier. Having a lot? Sure. That’s one way as research shows happiness rises with income (but only until $75K). Another biggie: you tend to be happier when you spend it on others. Kids already know this. One study focused on the innate pleasure received by the act of giving. 2 year olds were found to be happier giving away their Goldfish crackers from their own pile than using someone else’s stash. Research apparently is for adults. Kids already have this super power. Share your fish.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
Three months ago, I unexpectedly entered into a relationship with a horse.
I met Zor during a visit to Liberty Stables in Florida, where I had gone to spend time with a friend’s horses. I had no particular expectations. I have no background with horses, no training, and no experience in equine-assisted therapy. I simply met this magnificent Friesian, and something quietly familiar unfolded between us.
I fell in love.
The women who arrive in my classes, retreats, and therapy sessions are sincerely looking for healing, expansion, clarity, or sometimes just a little room to breathe.
They are thoughtful women, deeply engaged with the people and work they love. Rarely do they arrive because they want another spiritual philosophy. Most are carrying something much more ordinary.
A life that has become full. Beautiful in many ways, but crowded.
About twenty-five years ago, I was driving with a colleague to a local conference. As we approached the hotel entrance, I noticed an open parking spot near the front door.
“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing to the right. He drove past it.
A few seconds later, another one appeared. He drove past that one, too. Then I pointed to a third. “There’s a spot.” Without the slightest hesitation, Dan replied, “I’ll leave that for someone else.” And he calmly parked much farther away. As we walked to the entrance, I asked about that statement.
During the Seeding the Light Gathering, I had the privilege of hosting Pascual and Jose Tomas in our home.
They feel like family as this was their second visit to New Jersey. We’ve also spent a week together in Damanhur and the Temples of Humankind in Italy. I’ve sat in many ceremonies with Pascual in Peru’s Sacred Valley. His flute playing often carried me up mountain trails in the thin air and hot sun.
I planned to work a bit, complete some projects, and enjoy slow days with plenty of relaxation.
All of that certainly occurred, but beneath it all, something else began quietly inviting my attention.
The plane had begun its slow fall toward the earth when a sharp ache pierced my ears. Half-dozing, half-aware, I surfaced into the moment just as the toddler in front of me woke with a scream that broke her open. The sound wasn’t defiance or misbehavior. It was pain.
I felt her small body struggling to make sense of something she couldn’t name.
Her mother bent over her with the tenderness of someone trying very hard to be a good parent. But her soothing came dressed in urgency, in the quiet pressure to behave, to use words, to be okay, to not disturb those seated around her. Her voice shook with the effort of managing her child’s distress and her own rising shame.
