I grew up in Atlanta, and attending Sunday church service with my family was a norm for me.
My earliest memories of joy in church came from the ceremonial giving of tithes and offerings. Before church, my dad gave each of us a handful of loose change and by the time it was time to collect, the money was burning a hole in my little purse with anticipation.
I’d watch the church ushers as they moved with precise choreography through the aisles; their movements synchronized and efficient, as they passed the collection plates up and down the pews.
I would watch, anxious, as I waited my turn to give.
As the ushers finally approached my row, my hands grew clammier as my clasp on the change tightened. And when the collection plate finally arrive in front me, I would release the change with relief and joy. The clinging of the change hitting the metal was so satisfying and relieving, instantly melting away the nerves and replacing it with a feeling of accomplishment, and then gratitude.
I not sure at this age, I fully grasped what this practice of tithing really meant, but what I felt, and deeply understood, was that the act of giving something I valued, even if it was small in comparison to other gifts, was special. And it felt good.
Like so many others with similar childhood experiences, this practice of philanthropy is engrained in me. This foundation of giving and creating joy is woven into my personal and professional life. Seeking to make more of these moments possible is what led me a career in nonprofit, and I have almost 20 years of magical moments that has inspired my work.
To me, it’s heart-work.
