There's No Such Thing as a Small Gift

I have a confession to make: when working as a frontline fundraiser, I sometimes failed to appreciate “small” gifts. That’s not to say I didn’t get excited any time I saw a contribution come in, but generally, the more zeroes I saw in a contribution amount, the more excited I got.

I suppose this is natural in a profession where our performance is so often tied to the bottom line. If we’re working hard to hit a goal, we’re going to get excited about the things that move us closer to that goal.

A few weeks ago, though, I was given a clear reminder of why that thinking shouldn’t drive our work.

I had the great joy of taking my sons, Elliot and Carson, to Busch Stadium to see our beloved St. Louis Cardinals play. The game didn’t go our way, but any time spent sharing my love of baseball with my sons brings me tremendous joy.

On the way out of the ballpark, we were confronted with our own privilege - and the importance of philanthropy. While walking to our car, we saw a person who was experiencing homelessness and holding a sign asking for help. Elliot, now 6 years old and developing a strong sense of empathy and justice, was shocked.

It was a staggering reminder that our comfortable life in the suburbs keeps us insulated from so much of the hardship people experience. I tried as best as I could to explain why people experience homelessness and what we can do to help. Then, in only the way kids can, he asked a question that stopped me in my tracks:

“Why didn’t you give him some money?”

The honest response - that I almost never have cash with me - didn’t feel sufficient in light of his dismay at a person’s suffering. I told him that I absolutely should do something to help, and explained the notion of philanthropy and giving what we can to help others. The St. Patrick Center does amazing work serving those experiencing homelessness in our community, so I told him that when we got home, I’d make a donation so people like the man we saw could get help.

That’s when he informed me that he had $4 of allowance left and asked if he could also give that to help people. After feeling my heart nearly explode with pride, I told him he could absolutely do that.

After sending in the online contribution, I read him the thank-you note we received, which documented all of the services the donation will support. The $4 sacrifice was a big one for a kid who was saving money to add to his action figure collection, but his eyes lit up at the idea that he did something to help people, and he talked about that experience several times over the following days.

I know that as a fundraiser, $4 doesn’t move the needle on our goals. But to Elliot, that $4 may as well have been $4 million. His act of philanthropy allowed him to make a connection between another person’s suffering and his ability to use what he has to make a difference for others.

At the end of the day, philanthropy is about more than goals and our internal metrics; it’s our collective effort to contribute to something bigger than ourselves. As fundraisers, we’re stewards of that process. 

Not every gift will result in a building being named after someone or a personal call from the board chair, but it should still be treated with the greatest appreciation possible. You never know the sacrifice that is being made to give that gift - I’m grateful Elliot felt that love, and I hope this sparks a lifetime of giving. If we can cultivate that as fundraisers, we’re making an impact that goes far beyond the bottom line.

The Apple Does not Fall Far from the Tree