Emily Articulated: Generosity

By Emily Erickson
Reader Columnist

I came across a recent Facebook post on the Sandpoint Forum page so lovely that I spent the better part of a morning following its progress. It read, “What is one thing or a few things you need but cannot afford right now? Everyone check to see what others say. Maybe you have [a needed item], or have a connection to get it. We never know how we can help each other.”

The post blossomed with comments and connections, pairing searchers with gifters for everything from “a double bed frame for my daughter who grew so fast” and “a haircut for my son’s unruly curls,” to winter clothes, food for Thanksgiving, firewood and “someone to help me move my couch.” 

Watching the web of community weaving itself was like seeing kids on the playground swapping their old toys, delighted in the newness of another’s nearly discarded ones. I was moved to tears, recognizing how hungry I was to witness people taking care of each other. 

The post, albeit simple, created space for people to ask for help without fear of shame or judgment, while also offering an avenue for others to reflect on the things they’d been holding onto or didn’t think someone else might need. It closed the distance between those asking and those who could help, simplifying the opportunity for generosity and forging direct connections for positive impact.

Emily Erickson. Courtesy photo.

The obvious effectiveness of it all made me wonder — maybe the holiday season, and the giving it inspires, is like the nudge we used to need from our parents, simply reminding us that it’s a good thing to share. 

As adults, the act of sharing may not be as simple as turning over our least favorite Pokemon card to the kid next to us, but it can be boiled down to generosity in four main forms: resources, spirit, time and thought.

The generosity of resources is what usually comes to mind when we think about giving. It’s prompted in food drives and clothing donations, in gift-giving trees and red swinging buckets with slots for bills. It’s the most straightforward version of sharing, and often, has the highest potential for impact. Because sometimes, something as simple as warm, dry feet, made possible by a good pair of boots, is the little bit of comfort that reminds someone they’re not alone, even in the coldest of seasons.

Then, there is generosity of spirit. We’ve all been affected by those people for whom lifting up others around them seems so natural. Like the light inside of them can’t help but pour out, splashing golden goodness onto anyone lucky enough to be in their vicinity. It’s found in each warm smile and genuine “hello,” in every spontaneous compliment and heartfelt “be well.” Witnessing someone in their fullest, and choosing to elevate them with kindness, is a gift that stays with them far longer than it takes to give it.

Next, there is the generosity of time — the modality of giving that rarely gets the recognition it deserves. For this, I think about my mom, spending days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner chopping onions, roasting squash, baking bread and pureeing pumpkins, all so my family could spend an hour around the table together in communion. So many people give generously of themselves and their time, just to make experiences better for others. Recognizing them, and all their silent labor, is a gift for which they should never need to ask.

Finally, there is generosity of thought — a pattern of thinking that prioritizes listening over speaking, community over individualism and collaboration over competition. It’s a way of viewing the community and our place in it that is both childlike in its obviousness, and emotionally mature in its practice. Generosity of thought is understanding that no one operates in isolation, regardless of the energy we dedicate to thinking we can do it all on our own. It’s a wholehearted belief that we have something to give just as much as something to gain and that caring for others is far more inherent than tearing each other down.

This holiday season (and every season thereafter), I hope you find a way to be generous and recognize the many incredible ways people already are.

Emily Erickson is a writer and business owner with an affinity for black coffee and playing in the mountains. Connect with her online at www.bigbluehat.studio.