When We Can’t Fix It: Recognizing Generosity That Provides Hope

I talked last week about how sometimes our efforts to change the world seem so limited. We wonder if our small impact does much of anything at all.

At the risk of sounding cliche, I do love the fable about the man trying to save the starfish. (This story is also the basis for the name and mission of the Starfish Project. Please look them up and if you can, find a way to support the great work that they do).

The story goes (or at least my rough paraphrase of how I remember it without actually looking it up) is that a large number of starfish were left on the beach after an usually high tide. As the tide was going out, a boy on the beach realized that these starfish would die if they couldn’t get back in the water. So he began throwing them back as fast as he could. Another passerby stopped him and said,
“Why are you even trying? You can’t possibly save them all.”
“Because,” the boy replied “I will save some.”

We cannot possibly anticipate the potential hope even our small contributions will bring. I remember hearing a story from a member of my moms group years ago. She was waiting at a stop light and saw a homeless man waiting at the corner with sign asking for money. She didn’t have any money, but she had leftovers cooking breakfast from our moms group that morning. It was a partially divided road and she was on the wrong side to get to him.

She almost just let it go, but she changed lanes, and turned around, pulled over and offered the man the food. She apologized that she had no money to give him, but she said he was so grateful for the food, just leftovers that someone else might have thrown away, that there were tears in his eyes.

I had a similar experience. I was leaving a shopping plaza and there was a homeless veteran on the corner, in the pouring rain, no umbrella asking for money. I didn’t have much, but I gave him what I had in cash in my wallet. I don’t usually do that, in fact prior to that moment I usually made it a point not to give money to random people on the side of the road. (I also rarely carry cash, which makes enforcing my first rule easier). But this time, something felt different.

I looked at this man, and I thought, why would you stand begging in the pouring rain unless you were desperate?

I’m not saying you should always give money to every homeless person you meet. But I do believe we should employ discernment. That $3 you hand to that homeless veteran standing in the rain maybe what he needs to believe in humanity again. Maybe that leftover food fed someone for a day or two and gave her the strength to carry on.

Most of us want to make larger or seemingly more meaningful contributions to addressing the pain and suffering in the world. But we shouldn’t forget the power of single moments to offer hope.

Next – Comfort and Joy: Being Generous with Our Presence