What My Mother Taught me About Generosity
And how it still informs my life
When Mom died last summer, I found a stack of thank you notes squirreled away in her desk. They were mostly from people I didn’t know, although some were from family members. The theme of these notes was Mom’s generosity. One was from a woman who ran a program in a third world country for women who were learning to craft items to sell so they could make money for their family. Mom had donated needlework supplies from her needlework shop. This person stressed how Mom’s generous gift had made a difference in so many lives.
In her last few years I heard Mom say numerous times that she was just a useless old woman. A debilitating illness had taken away her ability to “do” and she, like most of us, equated her worth with her ability to be productive. If she could not be up and around to get things done, what good was she? I usually squashed those thoughts, though I wish I had validated her feelings about being chair-bound a little better. What I wanted her to see was how her life had made a difference to so many people.
When I was growing up, Mom and Dad gave money to many causes that they felt were worthwhile. I also found, among her papers, the receipts for thousands of dollars they gave to a ministry they believed in during a time when they couldn’t really afford to…
