Heartbreak. Joy. Impact.
What makes you angry? What breaks your heart? What makes you sad? What puts a knot in your stomach? What gets you fired up?
These are some of the questions I ask people when they are interested in giving, but don't know where to start. One of my biggest principles in cultivating generosity is making gifts we can emotionally connect to. This is an overlooked aspect of people's giving, which I believe can change everything. Once we connect our giving with our emotions and passions, it unlocks a gear we never knew we had.
I'm writing about this today because something transpired under my roof this weekend. On Saturday afternoon, Finn decided he was going to get the mail. Then, something caught his eye. "Dad, you got something from the children's hospital. It must be a bill." I explained it's probably not a bill, but rather the hospital asking for help. That sparked his interest, so without further ado, he tore open the envelope. He spent the next hour reading, inspecting, and re-reading the documents. He was fixated on this letter. It talked about caring for kids and making sure their families are taken care of.
Fast forward a few hours later, and we were on the couch watching the annual CyHawk football game featuring our Iowa State Cyclones vs. the Iowa Hawkeyes. As much as I don't like the Hawkeyes (sorry, Hawk friends!), they have one of the most beautiful traditions in all of sports. After the conclusion of the first quarter, every person in the stadium - fans, players on both sides, refs, coaches, stadium employees - stop everything, turn their attention to the next-door children's hospital towering above, and wave at all the kids and families in the windows. It's a special moment each and every time. I turn into a puddle just writing about it, and I suspect you'll be the same if you watch this ESPN story.
As the wave began, both my kids were curious about what was happening. Finn especially took an interest in this. The cameras zoomed in on the kids at the windows, wildly waving at the stadium crowd with huge smiles on their faces. Some kids were bald from their treatment regimen, while others were in beds. Finn looked at the kids on the TV, then down to the pictures of kids in the hospital letter he had been reading.
Something clicked inside him. He looked sad, almost introspective. Then, without a word, he walked out of the living room toward his bedroom. He returned a few seconds later with a baggie of cash. "Dad, can I send my giving money to the kids' hospital?"
"You bet, bud. We absolutely can." We filled out the giving form, he delicately placed his $16 into the provided return envelope, and he wrote them a note explaining his gift. He had so much joy doing this. Later today, I'll drive him to the post office so he can personally drop the envelope in the mailbox.
Heartbreak. Joy. Impact. Finn is starting to get it.
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