He handed me the gigantic homemade card with a sly grin.
Each of the kids created my Father’s Day cards from scratch this year, and my 8 year old son just couldn’t wait to watch me open his. As I swung open the oversized front cover, I immediately noticed a small pocket folded out of the bottom right corner of the page. Peaking over the tattered edge was the unmistakable markings of a good ol’-fashioned American greenback.
He had given me ten-dollar bill. Out of his own piggy bank.
I impulsively balked.
“Buddy, you can’t give me your money. That’s for you.” (And I’m probably the one that gave it to him in the first place).
But he insisted I take it. It was vitally important to him that he give me something of value. So I stuck it in my pocket, vowing to find something for us to do together with that cash. It was a sweet moment and it made my Father’s Day.
Fast forward 24 hours.
The fam and I made the two hour trek across I-74 to Kings Island for our company’s annual picnic. We were hanging at the arcade with our lifelong pals, The LaGranges, when that same, generous, 8 year old son found himself in head to head competition with their newly adopted 4 year old daughter, Mercy. The clown nose needed to be squirted, and there was no way a little girl was going to dominate his burgeoning, young, male marksmanship.
So he schooled her (it was the only right thing for a third grade boy to do).
But just as he was about to collect the spoils, his daddy made a small suggestion.
“Why don’t you give that prize to her?”
He initially looked perplexed. Why on earth would I do such a thing? And then he regretfully relented. Fine….here.
As Mercy ran off with her little pink bunny, I pulled Austin to the side for a little father-son conversation.
“Doesn’t it feel good to give?” He showed me that same sly grin that had accompanied his Father’s Day card. “And because you were so generous, I’ve got five more dollars for you to use on games later.” In reality, his gift had made him a few extra bucks.
Both of those interactions got me thinking. Austin’s generosity with me opened my already loving heart even wider to him. And when he shared his small windfall with little Mercy, it threw open the gates to all his daddy’s resources.
Listen, this is no televangelist plea to “plant your seed and watch God multiply-ah!” I’m not claiming giving as an equation for personal wealth. (And it should be noted that I’m no longer a full time pastor, so there is no ulterior “give to me” motivation). I’ve just learned we can catch small glimpses of God’s character in the simple interactions of our everyday lives.
How might that truth impact your life? Your business? Your family? Embracing generosity not only makes the world a more beautiful place, it opens your life to all of your Daddy’s resources.