When my daughter, Emily, turned seven, I gave her a gift that I'd like to think will have a long-lasting impact on the part she plays in her world. It also profoundly changed the way I look at my community. All this because I set myself a whimsical challenge – one that would, for a couple of months anyway, push at the boundaries of my comfort zone.
What did I do? I dared myself to do a good deed each day – for 50 days straight.
Most of us have a desire to make a difference. In fact, before marriage, career and family took over my life, my volunteer portfolio wasn't too shabby. But somewhere between "I do" and "It's a girl!" my world became small and selfish. My daily activities revolved around the demands of my job and the needs of my family and our household. In my mid-thirties, I accepted that I just wasn't going to be the hero who stamps out world hunger or finds a cure for cancer.
Not that I took much time out to dwell on that. My husband, Ian, and I both work full time while we raise our little girl, Emily. Our daughter's schedule is as hectic as ours, with school and homework, lessons and playdates. On top of all this, Ian is quadriplegic. When hired attendants aren't on hand to help him with routine daily tasks, I'm the one on call.
While I'd love to make the world a better place, amid the chaos of my life, I had become convinced that it takes too much time, money and energy to provide help where it's needed. Since I'm usually in short supply of all three, there wasn't much I could do.
Or so I thought.
A couple of new books on the market got me thinking. Author Judith Levine gave up spending money on anything but dire necessities. American blogger Julie Powell devoted a year to preparing all 524 recipes from Julia Child's 1961 French cookbook. I asked myself, why not take up a similar challenge? But instead of dishing up boeuf bourguignon, I could devote myself to something I believed in, something that my daughter could learn from.
Getting started
Ian and I have always tried to impress upon Emily the importance of making a contribution to others. We support a foster child in Egypt. We donate our used clothing. We recycle.
And yet, whenever I picked up a stray coffee cup on the street and dumped it in a waste bin, whenever I held the door for an old lady, Emily would invariably ask me: "Why did you do that?" It unsettled me. If random kindness was supposedly part of our family culture, why hadn't Emily learned the language?
So one night at the dinner table I proposed the season of living generously. What would happen if I did a good deed a day, every day, for 50 days? How would it impact other people – and me and my family?
Ian and Emily were immediately enthused. A lively discussion was sparked about what good deeds I might do. "You could save someone from drowning," suggested Emily. "You could leave a basket of cookies at someone's front door, ring the bell and run away."
Page 1 of 3 — on page 2, you'll find out that kindness takes surprisingly little time.
