My reason for giving

When Jeff and I were first married, we barely had two cents to rub together. Donating to a charity meant dropping one or two quarters into the Salvation Army kettle at Christmastime.

Once the children arrived, we didn’t even have the two cents.

Over the years, our money situation improved and at the end of the month we had a little give in our budget. As each Christmas approached, I gave a lot of thought to how I could give during the season of giving.

Which charity moved me? There are so many worthy charities out there. I dabbled with a different one each year, donating to The Red Cross or dropping a twenty into the red kettle. Some years, a few of the people on my Christmas list asked for donations to be made in their name as their Christmas present, and I obliged.

None of those charities, however, moved my soul. I had no skin in the game, no personal attachment to make me want to contribute on a yearly basis, let alone a monthly one.

About fifteen years ago, Jeff and I were shopping for Christmas. Technically, Jeff was shopping for a watch for me, but I got to pick it out. As we were paying, the sales associate asked if we wanted to donate to St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital. We had some extra money that year, so I said yes. I received a stuffed bear as a token of their appreciation.

As I put the bear on my bed for the season, a special memory floated to the surface of my brain.

When I was about twelve, my dad’s mother died and left my parents a sum of money. I don’t know how much, but Ma was able to buy furniture for the house and two new cars, plus other sundry items. Apparently, she also gave money to St. Jude’s Hospital which was just getting started at the time.

One day, I came home from school to find my mother dancing around the living room with a piece of paper in her hand.

“I got a letter from Danny Thomas!” she shouted, waving the paper around some more.

For you young ‘uns. Danny Thomas was famous in those days for starring in a TV sitcom called Make Room for Daddy. I read a story about him that said he had prayed to St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, to help get his career started. He promised he would build a hospital for children if he found success. His career took off after that, and he made good on his promise to found St. Jude’s.

I was less than overwhelmed about the letter. I figured every person who donated got a letter from Danny Thomas, but my mother showed me where he invited her personally to visit the hospital any time she was in town. That was funny because my mother hated traveling. Once we left the city for the suburbs, I don’t think she traveled more than fifty miles from home.

But I let my mother enjoy her letter.

Years later, as I looked at the stuffed teddy bear resting serenely in my bedroom, I smiled at the memory of Ma with her letter. Everyone has their own reason for the charity they sponsor, and that’s mine. There are a lot of sensible reasons for my choice, but to be honest I chose St. Jude’s for no other reason than every month when I make my donation I can remember how happy my mother was as she danced around the living room with her letter from Danny Thomas.

I hope the giving you do over this holiday season brings you as much joy.

Maybe someday I will visit St. Jude’s Hospital in my mother’s memory. If I do, I am going to dance through the halls.