A peculiar resolution to be sure, but certainly a weak area that needed some attention. Because I’m cheap. Shrewd with my time. Regrettably measured, calculated, efficient, thrifty. I have to admit, I haven’t stayed with it all year. Sometimes I forget I ever made the goal in the first place. I still think it’s been worthwhile. But yeah. Definitely been a stretch.
Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t turned a corner, I’m not a completely different person. But what’s been happening is that I’m paying attention more now. As I’ve watched my friends, strangers, random people I interact with here and there, my kids, Todd, my mom and sisters and so many others this past year, I’m humbled by what generosity looks like and how abundantly people give.
I think I started noticing it last November when I was in the hospital and then home recovering. I couldn’t believe what people did. Dinner from a teacher at school our kids had never even had. Sweatshirts from girlfriends I didn’t know were really that close. DVDs of shows a friend knew I’d love, gift certificates, freezer meals that lasted more than a month spear-headed by a mom at school; I didn’t realize we were that good of friends until she showed me—I still can’t get over that. My mom and two sisters who left their lives for a week to just come be with me. Friends who took my kids and who washed my hair, my daughter who helped me in the shower, my family who helped measure my drains. I’m still in awe of the ways people found to creatively and personally serve me and my family so generously.
My sister reminded me of my goal when I went to stay with her for a weekend this fall. She made a bed like a cloud. It was the best, most luxurious sleeping accommodation I’d ever slept on. She treated us with tiny little bath washes and loofahs on our pillows, even ear plugs for our other sister, she remembered the tiniest details. She bought us special food, an assortment of cereals, fruit, all sorts of snacks. She set up lunches and breakfasts for us with her friends. A trip to San Francisco. She was a tour guide and a spoiling grandma all in one. I made a mental note to be a better hostess. She’s come for years, and I’ve never thought of even half the stuff she did. I always assume people are just coming to assimilate into the family; I’ve never thought of pampering them. But my mom and sisters are just like this. They’re always leaving little bags of See’s on my pillow, bringing me special soap or a little treat they know I love when we see each other. I love it; they inspire me.
I guess I just wanted to be more like all these people I love and admire. I’ve wanted to pay it all forward. I’ve wanted to have the mindset of “There’s plenty!” instead of “I hope there’s enough….” To live with faith instead of fear. I’ve always worried if I spend too much time with my elderly friend I won’t have time to get to my list back home. Or if I give them too much soup we won’t have enough left for our dinner. Silly, but I admit that’s been my paradigm. However, this year I’m slowly realizing that we can be generous in small and simple ways, that somehow whatever we think we’ve “given” comes right back to us, that when we have a “there’s plenty for everyone” way of viewing life, there really will be. Oddly enough, a specific idea that changed my mindset more than any other was in a parenting talk, “Open your homes to the friends of your children. If you find they have big appetites, close your eyes and let them eat.”* I felt he was talking right at me, I’ve always had such a hard time with this! I admit being generous isn’t all that natural, it’s harder for me than most would imagine. But his words have stuck with me, and I’m working on it.
On the other hand, Todd’s awesome at this. He’s a great tipper. He even leaves extra in those glass jars at ice cream counters and sandwich shops. He always rounds up, he’s never cheap. When I’m making dinner for someone I’ve usually made just enough. But now I think about how he’d do it and I’ll throw in another chicken breast. Or fill the plate with just one more layer of cookies. I’m still learning to trust that there’ll be plenty, but I have seen how God continues to bless us with whatever we need when we’re sharing with others. My confidence is growing.
But being generous has less to do with money and more to do with being selfless, looking for ways to make life better for someone else in ways that are meaningful to them. So of course it would’ve been an easy goal to check off—I could’ve done it back in January—if I had just decided to write more checks to Heiffer International or the Disabled Veterans. Easy. But that’s not really what I was after. I wanted a change of heart, a new vision, a less stingy, worried frame of mind. I wanted to to open my eyes to needs around me, to feel free and willing to give more effortlessly, without feeling anxious.
As with any necessary change, it’s helpful to start close to home. How can we be generous with others when we’re stingy with ourselves? I think this is becoming easier for me the older I become because I’ve seen it backfire when I haven’t taken care of myself, when I’ve been generous with others at my expense. Which actually isn’t bad on occasion, service is mostly inconvenient, it’s good for us to sacrifice here and there. But when it goes on for too long, we can become resentful and grumpy. So I’m learning to take time for my own well-being. To buy myself a pair of shoes when I need them. To take a nap in the afternoon. To stop the housework at a reasonable time so I can just be with my family or my book. To let the bathroom go one more day so I can write for an afternoon. Small and simple ways I find to be generous with myself so that I can also be generous with others.
I love this thought from Suze Orman, “True generosity is an offering; given freely and out of pure love. No strings attached. No expectations. Time and love are the most valuable possession you can share.”
This is maybe the best (and hardest for some, including me) way to be generous. Just spending time with people. Slowing down enough to be present. Engaging. Carefully listening to what they’re maybe not even saying, watching closely. This has definitely been tricky for me, so counter to the way I live. Because I like to iron while I watch tv, listen to talks while I do the dishes, sew while we talk, clean up the kitchen as we visit. But over the years I’ve discovered how much more satisfying it is to curl up on the couch next to Todd or one of the kids or a friend and just talk. To leave the kitchen for now. And our phones. Without me getting a two-for-one out of it, squeezing in some work on the side. Simply being. Such a tiny way to be more generous. I’m truly converted.
I’ve seen other ways people have been generous using their creativity and abundance to enhance lives around them. I take note of the baby gifts and birthday gifts they buy. I love how they give from their heart, looking for just the right item that will make the recipient feel known and loved. They look less at the price tag and more at the person they’re shopping for. I love that mentality and I’m trying to make a shift in my mind, instead of whatever’s cheap or easy or what I have on hand to thinking about what my friends would really like, what would make them feel cherished.
I’ve observed the generous way friends have shared words. Hearing them passing along a compliment in a group, asking questions that demand honesty and a soulful response. Cards that uplift, texts that she’s on your mind. Not what one typically thinks about when we talk about generosity, but withholding praise, keeping a compliment you’ve heard about someone to yourself, refusing to pick up on cues that a friend needs to talk all seem to be the opposite of generosity. In my younger days I was afraid to give these away as well, thinking it would devalue my worth, that I would be less if I told someone how great she was. But it’s strange how it’s just the opposite. The more I share without holding back, the closer I become to friends, the more our hearts are connected. The more I notice the good qualities in others, and then tell them, the more confident I feel about contributing my own gifts. I’m in awe of what other people create and do and are; I’m not sure how it works, but as I express my admiration for them, nothing leaves me at all. I’m completely satisfied that we all have a work to do and are competent in different arenas to bless lives. Acknowledging that in ourselves and others lifts us all.
I love how people are generous with their touches rather than saving them for special occasions. I love that our teenagers just hug us out of nowhere, that they aren’t embarrassed or timid. I love how women I’m barely getting to know unabashedly throw their arms around me, I love that we can hug friends we haven’t seen for awhile and that it’s totally comfortable. I love that it feels like the American greeting. It feels like immediate acceptance, so generous.
I can’t help but notice the way so many of my friends serve, without letting on that they might think other people’s toilets are gross. Or that the hospital is clear downtown. Or that she never reciprocates. Or that it doesn’t seem to make a difference. They just keep giving in ways that are hard. Scary. Out of their comfort zone. I’m not there yet. I think we all have a list with two columns. Easy service ideas, no brainers, got it. And then there are the hard ones. And the women who embrace this column are so generous in my mind, consistently extending themselves, showing the rest of us how to serve as Christ would.
I can’t help but think of all the subtle but meaningful ways we can practice generosity. We’re kind and generous—giving just a little more than necessary—when we sense the need and then let them talk and talk and talk. When we say, “Of course!” to the request for a donation at the Costco check-out. When we put a little extra effort into dinner or make the table look nice for our family simply because it’s been a long week for everyone. When we bump up our donation five or ten dollars. When we include someone in our get-together we don’t know that well, even when it pushes us out of our comfort zone. When we go ahead and put a couple dollars in his guitar case. When we give the benefit of the doubt, when we try to see his perspective instead of insisting he see ours. “Charity [which in my mind is simply loving generously] is having patience with someone who has let us down. It is resisting the impulse to become offended easily. It is accepting weaknesses and shortcomings. It is accepting people as they truly are. It is looking beyond physical appearances to attributes that will not dim through time. It is resisting the impulse to categorize others.”**
And yet, while the way others express generosity can inspire us, it doesn’t mean our offerings are less generous if they don’t look the same. All of us fluctuate in what we can give from one moment or situation to the next. Our energy, life circumstances, paychecks, and demands are all different and changing. I love the reminder in the Bible of the woman who anointed Christ before his crucifixion. Some were disgruntled about it, to whom Christ taught, “She hath done what she could.” As always, there’s a lesson for us. In our family it’s easier now to be generous with our charitable contributions than it was when we were students and just starting out, and yet I still feel bad we can’t (or don’t) do as much as so many people around us, but I remind myself we’re doing what we can. At some point in my day the most generous thing I can do is hold my tongue or go to bed. At another, I may have energy to write a letter to someone, to make cookies for a friend, or to go and sit on my teenager’s bed and talk for a bit. I want to be more generous with good night kisses and tuck-ins when I’m the one wanting to be tucked in instead. Generous when the last thing I have energy for is small talk but remembering what it feels like to be on the fringes. Generous with praise when I secretly wish I had the same talent I’m loving in someone else. Generous because even though it might be a small sacrifice for me, I sense it might make all the difference to someone else.
* President Hinckley
**President Monson