the joy of giving

      When I was five years old, my mother gave me a small children’s paperback book titled “The Joy of Giving.” I believe it might have come from our Lutheran Church. I was just learning to read, and there were poems about gratitude and why giving oneself to others was the best way to live. I cherished this little paper book and took it off my reading shelf often to reread the passages.

      The book is nowhere to be found today, but the lessons I learned from it burn brightly in my soul.

      My mother, who died when I was 12, was a giver. She took care of a little girl who lived down the street named Susie. Her mother and my mother were friends. Susie was born with cerebral palsy. She could not walk, speak, feed herself and was partially blind. My mother would bring Susie home and would hold her in her lap while she fed, read, comforted, sang and rocked this little girl.

      In the springtime, my brother and I were expected to visit all our neighbors with large envelopes for the Red Cross, Easter Seals and other nonprofits my mother raised money for. We were just little tykes, six and eight years old. We would go together from house to house collecting money and writing the donor’s name and dollar amount on the envelopes where we slipped the change and dollar bills.

      At the end of the day, we would add up the column of numbers and count out the cash to make sure their numbers matched. We never complained or refused to do this because our mother made it clear that it was the right thing to do, because helping others and serving one’s community makes us whole human beings.

      My mother was involved in women’s groups that raised money for a variety of local charities and causes. She and her best friend, Betty, started the local Civic Theater in my hometown. Visits to the hospital with flowers, cookies and magazines for patients were a regular occurrence.

      I am often asked what inspired me to live a life of service, and I do not have to think hard about this.

      It is because at the tender age of five, I learned the joy of giving, and while my mother was alive, she was an inspiration and teacher of this joy that came so naturally to her. 

      Over the years, I have served on dozens of boards, chaired capital campaigns, advised nonprofits and their leaders, and tried to do my best to bring awareness to the needs of our community here in Vermont. And as I have grown older I have endeavored to take on more of this work.

      The needs of the world have become mammoth, and my time is slipping away. Therefore, every moment is critical to throw my shoulder to the wheel like never before.

      More and more of my time is spent organizing and attending protest rallies, joining advisory councils, writing commentaries, testifying in the legislature and sharing my opinions with the powers that be.

      I don’t want to toot my own horn, but what I want to do is encourage parents and grandparents to teach their children and grandchildren to embrace the joys of giving and guide them to be aware of the struggles in their community and jump right in to ensure that the needs of those less fortunate are met.

      Start young so the feelings one experiences when they help others are ingrained in their early childhood psyche. Compassion, understanding, creativity and empathy are core human traits.

      We are never too young or too old to feel joy when we give ourselves to others in their time of need.