Giving is Learned |
Dec 22, 2010 |
Transformational Giving Principle #9 states that giving is learned, not latent in champions.
Consider that principle in light of the following excerpts from the book Promise Me by Nancy G. Brinker.
The muggy summer of 1952 teemed with mosquitoes and clingy Midwestern humidity. The school year ended (I was fresh out of first grade, Suzy liberated from fourth), but instead of that lazy, hazy wide-open summer feeling, we found ourselves in a world of closed doors and shuttered windows. It seemed to Suzy and me as if the city of Peoria had pulled into itself like a turtle, afraid to poke so much as a toe out to do anything…
These days we’ve all but forgotten what a scourge it was, but in 1952, there was a global epidemic. “Infantile paralysis” was a malevolent phantom that shadowed every summer day and haunted every cricket-filled night, poised to cripple and kill with one touch to the spine, the most deeply dreaded disease of the twentieth century worldwide.
“Right this minute, scientists are working to develop a vaccine,” she said. “We have to do everything we can to help. Like this bake sale.” She set a Tupperware container on the table. Through the milky-opaque plastic, we could just make out mounds of pink-tinted frosting topped with maraschino cherries. “Every little cupcake will do its part to end the epidemic. The money helps the scientists, the scientists help physicians, and if lots more mothers and daughters collect lots more money and the scientists keep working, someday, they’ll be able to give people a shot and-“She snapped her fingers. “No more polio.”
***
Along the way, of course, skeptics in all their towering intellect persistently pointed out the many reasons the virtual eradication of polio could never be accomplished.
My mother respectfully disagreed, efficient and undeterred in her daily purpose. Suzy and I were bundled into the family station wagon every weekend to accompany Mom on her various missions. It wasn’t up for debate; it’s what we did.
“Instead of dwelling on all the things you can’t do, said Mother, “figure out what you can do. What you will do. My mother used to say, ‘If you have to ask what to do, get out of the kitchen.’ I’ll bet you girls could come up with something if you put your heads together.”
We piled into the station wagon and set out on our appointed rounds. Sweltering in the backseat, Suzy and I complained and deviled each other like a couple of spiny pill bugs.
Mother didn’t raise her voice, but her tone crackled with aggravation. “Out.”
Mother stood in front of us in the blazing sun, shielding her eyes with her hand.
“People have died for this country,” she said. “People have sacrificed their lives so you could live in peace and freedom, and all that’s asked of you is that you take care of it. Stewardship. That’s all. You care enough about your community to look after those who aren’t as fortunate as you. When you see someone in need, you give. When you see something wrong, you fix it. Because this is your country, it’s your community. You can’t sit around on your duff waiting for someone else to make it better. It’s up to you.”
“If you girls devoted half the energy you use complaining and bickering to actually doing something for somebody else, I think you’d be amazed at what you can accomplish. So can I count on you? Are you willing to be good stewards for your country?”asked Mother.
***
“Nanny? I know what we should do to be good stewards.”
“What?” I yawned.
“Variety show.” Suzy hatched her brilliant idea like a magician turning a pigeon out of a top hat. “A song-and-dance variety show and you can sing and dance and I’ll sell tickets. We’ll get everybody to help.”
***
Mother drove us to St. Francis Hospital on Glen Oak Avenue. Elated, Suzy and I marched to the administrative desk in the front lobby and presented the receptionist with a crisp white envelope containing $50.14 in pure polio-killing, spine-saving, all-American do-gooding cash.
Nuts and bolts. Dollars and cents. Cause and effect. The lesson wasn’t lost on Suzy or me. This is where the rubber meets the road, I realized. This is where will meets way.
A fundraiser is born.
So began Suzy’s and my charitable life together. It was my earliest inkling of what goes into the chemistry of change: moment meets messenger, information becomes action. Hearts and minds shift to a new paradigm, money happens and it all comes together.”
***
The above story chronicles the early life of Nancy G. Brinker. Her sister Suzy is better known as Susan G. Komen. Nancy founded Susan G. Komen for the Cure after promising her dying sister to one day find a cure for breast cancer. Susan G. Komen for the Cure has since contributed more than $1.5 billion for cutting-edge cancer research and community programs. Nancy. G. Brinker was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2009 but I believe her mother also is to be commended for her insistence that her daughters learn to be givers.
Christmas is upon us. We’re accustomed to talking about giving in introspective ways, “How can I give more meaningfully this year?”, “What was the most meaningful gift I ever received?” Here’s another question to consider; ‘How can you help someone in your sphere of influence learn to give?’ Giving isn’t a latent gene waiting to be prompted or inspired. Start thinking of yourself as a teacher and begin designing lessons in giving. That is what Jesus did; after all. He was the best giving instructor. Nancy promised to work for the cure to breast cancer if it took the rest of her life. Jesus taught us to give by giving his whole life.
If you’ve still got shopping to do, I commend Promise Me to every mother, sister, daughter; anyone really who’s been touched by breast cancer. It’s a fabulous story of a remarkable life. And Nancy G. Brinker’s giving continues; all proceeds from the sale of the book will benefit Susan G. Komen for the Cure.
Merry Christmas.
