Giving a Smile Even When You Don’t Feel Like It

Air travel today is downright painful . . . and always an adventure. It begins with having to practically undress and walk through the total body scanner. Then they torture you by packing you into seats like sardines and then find the bumpiest altitude so that you can’t get up, can’t read and can’t eat. The physical abuse is one thing but the emotional toll of delays are even more stressful. There is the constant gnawing of “Will I make the next flight or be stranded in some forlorn place short of my destination.”

This morning, I got up at 3 a.m. to catch a 5:15 a.m. flight and guess what? It was delayed. First for only 25 minutes, then I was told one hour. With a three-hour layover before the second leg, I wasn’t too worried about my connection . . . yet. Then the delay stretched to 3 hours. Watching people in various stages of disappointment, fatigue and anger, I sensed that the airport personnel were not feeling a lot of love. They needed help.

Sometimes I too am frustrated by delays. When they say it is a ground delay—meaning no planes are allowed to take off or land at the same time—and I am watching out the window as one after another swoosh off into the wild blue yonder, I get a little bit ticked. I do give the airlines some slack though and am more lenient when it has to do with mechanical issues.

Today’s delay was because of a “bird strike”. It seems that when the plane arrived late last night, a bird met its fate but not without leaving a mark. I don’t know if it was the Maytag repairman or who they called to come inspect the plane, but they must have lost their way getting to the airport. Hence, 3 hours and counting.

More and more passengers stormed up to the ticket counter. During a slight break in the action, I politely approached the ticket agent to inquire about my connection. The first words out of his mouth were, “It’s not my fault.” I assured him that I understood and that I just wanted to increase my chances of making my final destination.

Yes, they needed help, something to lighten up the tense atmosphere. So I reached into my pocketbook and produced my gift for today—a smile on a stick. These half-mask props with a big fat smile are fun to share with people who need a break. I carry a few for situations just like this. The ticket agents enjoyed passing it around and laughing it up. Some of the disgruntled passengers even allowed the edges of their mouths to turn up ever so slightly. I probably need to give out more smiles as the day wears on—matter of fact, it helps me to have one myself.

In giving and smiling,

Robin

Goodwill for All

Taking items to the Salvation Army, Goodwill or the second-hand shop can be a bittersweet experience.  Yesterday’s trip to Goodwill was a little emotional for me because the items that I brought had more meaning than my typical giveaways.

You know the phenomenon that clothes “shrink” when they have hung in the closet for too long? The memories attached to them are some of my fondest but since they do not fit any longer, I have to say good bye. Last fall, when I put my favorite turquoise silk jacket, the long flowing sundress from Nordstrom and various blouses in a special part of my closet, I was hoping that they might one day fit again. I was only postponing my separation anxiety. I take solace in that someone may get some use out of them.

Way back in the garage I’d found my first pair of downhill skis. Could I part with my Hexcel skis I’d owned for over 30 years? My imagination was captivated by the grace of my glory days on the slopes filled with bright sunshine and deep powder. I kept the skis thinking I would one day ski on them again, but over the years I bought newer ones instead.

If you want to be taken back to a more carefree time, dig out your vinyl records and if you are lucky, they still have the jacket covers. My first record player was built into a suitcase like box with a lid, turntable and speakers that you could set up and play anywhere. It may have been a pink Barbie version. When records got scratched, the needle would skip but we kept playing them and singing along anyway.

I thought about the memories attached to all of these items and realized that others would likely make their own happy memories with them. I hope so. It reminded me of this quote, “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give away.”

In giving,

Robin

Unusual Wrapping Paper

Several years ago I was asked to present a keynote speech to thank donors for their generosity and encourage the scholarship recipients to pay-it-forward after graduation. The theme was crafted after Florence Littauer’s book “Silver Boxes: The Gift of Encouragement.” In it she describes silver boxes as verbal presents to encourage one another on life’s journey.

I told stories of current and past recipients receiving gifts wrapped in imaginary silver boxes. One was about a young girl who had lost all hope after a break up with a boyfriend. Then there was the student whose Father lost his job and she was going to have to drop out of school because she could no longer afford tuition. And maybe the most touching story was that of a coed whose Mother had been diagnosed with cancer and the girl was the primary caregiver. All of their income was now being spent on health care and just when things seemed hopeless, she received a gift of encouragement - a scholarship to help with tuition. But it wasn’t just the money. She told me that she was about give up and quit school. What mattered most to her was that the scholarship encouraged her that someone believed in her. That made all the difference.

When I was in the first grade small gifts made a big impact on me. I spent more than my fair share of time in the principal’s office for talking too much. Subsequently, I started dreading school. I would be just fine in the morning, but shortly after arriving at school, I would get “sick” and my Mother would be called to come and get me. It was amazing how I always had a miraculous recovery the minute I walked in the front door of our house.

My Mother devised a plan. She began wrapping a small gift in aluminum foil and putting it in my lunch box. It may be a ring from the bubble gum machine, a piece of jaw breaker candy or a pencil sharpener. She required that I stay until lunch before I opened the gift. I eagerly tore into it each day. But it wasn’t the gift that I was searching for; it was the note that said, “I love you” or “I am proud of you” or “You are my favorite child.” Well, that last quote wasn’t quite exactly what she said, but I figured she meant that even if she didn’t say it. These small gifts wrapped in silver encouraged me.

Last week, I noticed purple fingernail polish on a friend who usually doesn’t wear any. She confided “Mother had her first chemotherapy treatment and her favorite color is purple. I’m wearing purple to encourage her.”

I gave a gift to her - in a silver bag with purple tissue paper. Inside were 3 purple silicone wristbands for her mother, her boyfriend and her to wear. They were engraved with “No one fights alone.”

My mother taught me how to wrap gifts with love and caring regardless of whether they are wrapped in aluminum foil, silver boxes with purple tissue paper or no box at all.

In giving,

Robin

Back to School Sales

Wait, isn’t it still summertime? Doesn’t matter . . . back to school sales are in full swing. Because I don’t have school age children, I usually don’t pay attention to the sales—until this year.

When I was eight years old I took a drawing class at the local city park. I don’t remember if I asked my Mother if I could sign up or she saw a budding young artist that she wanted to encourage. Most likely she just needed a break from my incessant talking. Regardless the experience had a major impact on me.

The medium for the class was pastel sticks or crayons. We sat outside at a picnic table drawing and learning to blend colors with the edge of our fingers. After I finished my drawing, the teacher carefully sprayed it with a coating to prevent the color from rubbing off. I proudly showed off my drawing to Mom and anyone else who would look at it. That picture is long gone, but the good memories remain. I believe it is important to give kids the tools to be creative. Unfortunately, many school districts are cutting art classes. Promoting creativity is a passion of mine.

So I asked a teacher if her students needed art supplies. She said they absolutely do. Many of her students do not have drawing materials to bring to school. She also said that her students think of art as a reward for doing their homework and are eager to help another student.

Now I had a reason to go to the store for the big Back-To-School Sales. I filled my cart full of 25 cent items like glue, crayons, rulers and other art supplies. I barely spent ten dollars and got all kinds of tools for artists to start creating their own masterpieces.

I am reminded of a poem The Little Boy written by Helen Buckley in 1961 that made an impression on me about the importance of allowing kids to be creative. Back to school sales now signify something different to me—it is about developing passionate young Picasso’s.

In Giving,

Robin  

The Little Boy
by Helen Buckley

Once a little boy went to school.
He was quite a little boy
And it was quite a big school.
But when the little boy
Found that he could go to his room
By walking right in from the door outside
He was happy;
And the school did not seem
Quite so big anymore.
One morning
When the little boy had been in school awhile,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make flowers."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And it was red, with a green stem.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at his teacher's flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher's.
It was red, with a green stem.

On another day
When the little boy had opened
The door from the outside all by himself,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make something with clay."
"Good!" thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make a dish."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at the teacher's dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher's.
It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn't make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.
This school was even bigger
Than the other one.
And there was no door from the outside
Into his room.
He had to go up some big steps
And walk down a long hall
To get to his room.
And the very first day
He was there,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn't say anything.
She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy
She asked, "Don't you want to make a picture?"
"Yes," said the little boy.
"What are we going to make?"
"I don't know until you make it," said the teacher.
"How shall I make it?" asked the little boy.
"Why, anyway you like," said the teacher.
"And any color?" asked the little boy.
"Any color," said the teacher.
"If everyone made the same picture,
And used the same colors,
How would I know who made what,
And which was which?"
"I don't know," said the little boy.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

Dreams in a Mirror

“You will get all you want in life if you help enough other people get what they want.”   Zig Ziglar

Last Mother’s Day, a friend submitted a story about her Mother to a website that was giving away tickets to a Carol Burnett show for the story with the most “likes”. She made an appeal on Facebook to click “like” on her story. One click was allowed per day; so I clicked day after day. When she won the tickets, I felt like I had won too.

In the past, I haven’t taken the time to do things like this. Although it is easy to do—send a happy birthday wish on Facebook, email a congratulations or endorse someone on LinkedIn—I don’t seem to do it very often. These tiny tasks may not seem like much to me, but to the other person, it means a lot.

My Accountability Partner sent an email that her book would be available on Amazon's website and the more people that purchased it that particular the day, the better the book rankings would be. And considering Amazon has thousands and thousands of books, rankings are paramount to increased book sales.

When I bought the book it was exciting to see only two left in stock. Then the purchase form asked if I wanted to share it on Facebook. In the past, I would have said “Nobody has time for that”. To help her book achieve maximum results, I posted on my timeline that I had purchased it. So, in essence I was endorsing it to my audience. This was the gift . . . posting it to my timeline for my friends to possibly purchase. These small acts of kindness are all “gifts.”

Motivational speaker and author Les Brown said, “Help others achieve their dreams and you will achieve yours.”

Ahhh . . . so the mirror that I am looking in reflects her success back to me. I like that image.

In giving,

Robin

The Gift of Re-gifting

Have you ever wanted your gift to be re-gifted?

Today was a quarterly birthday luncheon in my neighborhood. Womens’ birthdays that occurred in the three months since the last celebration were honored and given a vase of teal and pink daisies. The host was wearing a teal shirt with a beautiful teal bracelet. The color of the table cloths, napkins, plates and even the plastic silverware was teal and pink. Although the luncheon was a social occasion, it had a cause associated with it.

The host selected her favorite charity and each person attending was given the option of giving a $5 gift to it. This happens to be close to the heart of today’s host. She is a cancer survivor. The charity she chose is the local Cancer Treatment Center. As I dropped my $5 gift in the jar I noticed the items on the table—ovarian cancer warning signs card, breast cancer early detection brochure and a flyer for the Susan G. Koman Breast Cancer walk this weekend.

The color scheme that had been selected has special meaning. Teal is for ovarian cancer and pink is for breast cancer. She asked the women to raise their hands if they have had cancer, if they felt comfortable sharing. Then she asked whose life has been touched by someone having cancer. It made our gift, which was soon to be regifted, have even more meaning. We thought of those who are currently in treatment or have passed away. It really touched us when she said, “Three years ago at this time, I didn’t know if I’d still be alive. I am so fortunate to be here today. We are getting to the place where we are going to beat cancer, once and for all.” As she passed out brochures to help people learn about early detection, she said that in the future we won’t have as many people raise their hands that they have been affected by cancer.

It was not a somber event. Matter of fact it was a celebration of life for those who had beaten it. During the next couple of hours many conversations centered on celebrating life. When I asked another friend about her husband she said, “He is in remission and is feeling great. We don’t know if the cancer will come back, but each day I look in the mirror and give thanks for one more day.”

We thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company and sharing stories. Deep in our heart we knew that we are doing something for the greater good by giving money to be regifted by our host to the cancer treatment center.

Re-gifting never felt so good!

In gifting and re-gifting,

Robin

The Gift of Not Giving

She thanked me for not giving her the gift. She said that less is more. “Please give it to someone who will appreciate it.”

More than five years ago she loaned me a complete series of books. I assured her I would return them after I read them. Since then, I have moved across the country. When I’ve visited her, I am never able to fit them into my luggage. Before I mailed the books to her, I asked if she would like them back.

It seems that my life in my 20’s, 30’s and 40’s was about acquiring things. Then something happened in my 50’s. I realized that I didn’t really need to keep accumulating stuff. It is a harsh reality when we move—packing and unpacking gets harder with each subsequent relocation. Things that had meaning are just more weight to add to the moving truck that costs more money to move to a new house where it will sit in a garage or buried at the back of a drawer. In a box in the garage or stuffed high up in a closet that I never open, it is not something that I am currently using and probably won’t use.

When I started the Giving Challenge, I created a list of guidelines to follow. One was that I will not give anything that I was “just going to throw away”. The criteria that I would use to determine if it had value was if it has meaning to me, it is worthy of giving to someone else who wants it.

This set of books would not have given away because I was a steward of them until the time came that I could return them to their rightful owner. This caused me to think about the golden rule, “Do unto others as I would have them do unto me.” I don’t really want to be given something that I do not want. How many times have I accepted something, just because I didn’t know how to say “No, you really mustn’t . . .”

Yes, but there is a twist to the moral of this story. Having the confidence to say what I want and what I don’t want, is a good thing. However, I always want to be sensitive to the giver’s feelings. They may place a high value on something they want me to have. If this is the case, I will smile, say thank you, and accept their gift graciously. The last thing I want to do is refuse their gift and give them a broken heart.

In giving (and sometimes not giving),

Robin