I grew up in one of the most decidedly middle-class families living a pretty average life in our southern Iowa town.
It was me, my brother and our mom and dad. Both my parents were teachers, and while there were a few lean years when my mom stayed home with us, we were far from living in need. Most of my friends lived similar lives, safely and happily roaming our neighborhood streets. I didn’t see much poverty – partly because I was a kid, but mostly because of where I lived.
My dad, however, worked at a school across town and had a very different lens. Life in those neighborhoods included unpaved roads, peeling paint and homes in disrepair for reasons I was too young to ask about or understand. Still, my dad talked to us about our town and told us stories about home visits where chickens were in the house and front doors were missing.
As a kid, these didn’t feel like real situations just a few minutes away.
Then, one Christmas season, my dad had an idea. What if we skipped presents for each other and did something for a struggling family. I wish I could say I responded enthusiastically, but my brother and I were horrified at the idea. My dad gently talked us into it: It was a family a lot like ours – mom, dad, two kids – but without a stable job and with a lot more uncertainty.
As Christmas approached, we spent a Friday evening at Jacks – our town’s version of Wal-Mart before Wal-Mart arrived. As we picked out the clothes, toys and food we would have wanted, I got more and more excited. By the end, my brother and I were racing up and down the aisles trying to convince my parents we should get more for this family.
My dad gave those gifts anonymously. We didn’t know how they were received, and that wasn’t the point. When I think about it now, I hope that Christmas morning was a small bright spot in a dark stretch of life for someone, and I still feel good that our family played a part in that.
With a lot of years between me and my childhood Christmases, I honestly don’t remember many gifts – the years sort of run together. But I remember the way helping others made me feel during that evening of shopping.
I share this story not to glorify my mom and dad (although they are really great) – many families make similar gifts during the holidays. But it reminds me that just knowing a need exists can bridge the gap from inactivity to generosity. It just takes someone – in this case, my dad – to close the distance.
Right now, the distance between those with enough and those without is growing. And so many of us not only feel removed from community needs, we are removed from it. It isn’t in our neighborhood or our workplace or our family. It becomes easy to remain unaware. And when we do hear about suffering? Maybe we wonder if that’s really happening here, in Sioux Falls. Or we don’t think we can help. Maybe we aren’t sure if we can trust what we’re hearing. Maybe we don’t know where to start.
Uncertainty can make inactivity easier.
Let’s not wait for the perfect time or perfect cause. Let’s just start.
Get to know your community – when we understand our challenges, I think more of us will be moved to give, and generosity will flourish.
One local resource is The Giving Depot, an online bulletin board, listing more than 80 area nonprofits. Projects include everything from hosting a food drive to donating $100 to provide counseling to someone battling addiction to giving $1,000 to provide meals to older adults.
Sioux Falls is home to hundreds of nonprofit organizations – groups feeding the hungry, making sure our students have mentors and teaching people to read. They’re painting murals, building trails and entertaining us.
I think back to my dad and the stories he told us. We listened, like kids do, but it was that shopping trip that really showed us how we could do our part. My brother and I raced around that store like we were buying presents for ourselves.
If he hadn’t introduced us to not only the joy of giving but a responsibility to our community, I hope I would have learned it eventually somewhere. But as it stands, I’m glad it was at that kitchen table, in that store and at that age. It showed me how to act, and it’s something I’ve tried to model in my own family.
What matters to you and your family? What cause can your business rally around? Someone in Sioux Falls is probably doing that work – and they need your support now more than ever.
This holiday season, I’m asking you to take action. Our friends and neighbors are depending on us. And, I promise, there is true joy in giving.
Andy Patterson is the CEO of the Sioux Falls Area Community Foundation. The Community Foundation is a 501c3 public charity. The Community Foundation has given out more than $350 million since it began more than 40 years ago.
