The gift of giving

I’m currently reading a great book on fundraising by Jeff Brooks. I am honestly so grateful to have come across this gem. I would recommend it to anyone who is interested in getting people on board to support a cause. In addition to learning lots of evidence-based techniques, fundraising strategies, and ways that donors think, I am also growing in passion about fundraising and the power it has to change the world.

It has taken me a while to come around to this way of thinking. Often I get frustrated with working in the charity sector and raising money. My doubts and frustrations are mainly centred around human nature and the reasons why we give. The self-centred motivations we all have, and how much we fall short.

But Jeff Brooks writes so passionately about the power of fundraising. He is so proud to be a fundraiser. In reading his words, I think I feel proud to be a fundraiser too. Jeff Brooks makes me believe that fundraising, when channelled correctly and with integrity, can be a real force for good. It can make a difference.

I want to share an excerpt from the last chapter of the book. Reading it made me think hard about the gift of giving. Jeff Brooks writes about the painful deterioration of his mother due to Parkinson’s. He writes about her horrible delusions, physical suffering and death.

“It’s over now. I’m thankful Mom no longer struggles in a ruined body and a darkened mind.

Yet it’s not over. My heart still aches over the torment she suffered. I wish I’d spent more time with her. I regret that I wasn’t with her the night her life finally floated away like a wisp of smoke. 

But there’s a way I can strike back at Parkinson’s disease. I can defy it - give it the finger - take back some of what it stole.

I can give to a nonprofit organisation. They’ll take my money, even a small amount, and fight Parkinson’s disease. They’ll help people who have it now. They’ll fund research into better treatments. And maybe, someday, they’ll find a cure - so Parkinson’s can never take anyone else down that terrible road.

All it takes for me to move from defeat to victory is to give away some money. It’s so easy. […]

Giving can’t bring her back or erase the pain, but it reorients me. I’m less a victim, more in control. Wiser, and less wounded.

My brush with Parkinson’s disease isn’t special or unusual. Everyone faces these things. You’re in the same boat; if it hasn’t happened yet, you or someone else to you will eventually fall under an attack of some kind, swift or slow, fatal or not. You’ll take wounds so deep you’ll wonder if you can survive.

But anyone can embrace the miracle of giving. It can ease your grief, revive your hope, and give you strength to face affliction, wrath, danger and distress.

It’s available whether you’re wise or foolish, educated or ignorant, rich or poor, believer or nonbeliever. Giving is a light in the darkness, a life vest in a storm, a song among tombs.” 

Jeff Brooks is right. Giving is a gift and a miracle. It ignites the soul. It can get us through the darkest of nights. It brings healing to both the giver and the receiver.

Dave and I have been looking into the gift of giving as a married couple. As a couple we want to be generous givers. We want to pour ourselves and what we have out as a balm into the wounds of the world.  We want to bless people and projects with the resources we can offer. We feel blessed to be able to give. And so Jeff Brook’s words really resonate with me. Giving can be “a song among tombs”, a way to cling to the hope that you can make a difference in this crazy world, that you can overcome personal and public tragedies with a small act of kindness. It can be a way to "give the finger" to all the things that are so desperately wrong, that feel out of control and unstoppable. It can be a life vest in the storm of life’s sufferings.

Maybe I am ashamed of giving and asking people to give. But giving is a gift to be celebrated. We are so small and flawed and fragile. But our gifts can accomplish great things. Giving can make the world better.

Thank you, Jeff Brooks, for showing me that.