December 2011

Growing up in Texas, sometimes how I see things are just cultural DNA leftovers – like my illogical affection for pick-up trucks (which my wife will never let me own), my love for the Dallas Cowboys and my belief that I am my mother’s favourite child.  Make no mistake, my brother also believes that he is the favourite.  He’s wrong of course, but it is the crux of a lifelong argument we’ve had.  His perspective is that as the oldest, he has been loved the longest and with the first of a mother’s love.  I will concede his point, but respond with the inherently obvious fact that if he had been that great, they wouldn’t have needed to try and do better.  And as I am the last child, I must have been as close to perfect as they figured they would get.

My mother refuses to engage in the debate other than with the politically correct comment that she loves us both.  (But when she says it, I know she’s winking at me.) 

That being said, I wanted to be honest with y’all.  I love everyone who supports World Relief Canada and the life changing work we do around the world.  But I love some of you more than others…

I know.  That’s borderline scandalous, and possibly job threatening to admit.  But hear me out on this.  I think you might understand, if not even agree with me by the end.

Yesterday I got a phone call from a very close friend.  We met through our kids.  His daughter is the same age as mine and the two girls were in skating lessons together when we first moved to Markham.  He called to tell me a story.  On Friday night they had been out to a Christmas party and had gotten home late.  The next day it quickly became apparent that the girls had not gotten enough sleep the night before.  (If you are a parent, then you will immediately understand that and the probable behavioural indicators that let us know when this is true.)  This being the case, he sent them both to take a nap (or at least have quiet time in their rooms).  The youngest girl fell asleep immediately, but the older girl (who is 7) didn’t quite get to sleep.  In fact, after a little while, she decided to sneak out of her room and go to the basement – where their playroom is.  Surreptitiously, she tiptoed down the stairs, across the hall to the basement door, painstakingly opened  and closed it, and went into the playroom completely unaware that her parents were watching her do this.

They thought about calling her on it as she came down stairs, but decided to wait and “catch her” in the act of playing with her toys during the prescribed “quiet time”.  After a few minutes, my friend opened the door and crept down the basement stairs in order to catch his daughter.  When he reached the bottom he expected to find toys strewn about the room, but instead found her lying on her stomach hard at work.  As he looked around he saw her piggybank lying on its side – open.  Then he saw wrapping paper, tape and plastic bags around her.  Finally his curiosity got the best of him and he called her name. 

She turned around immediately with a look of terror at being “caught” out of her room.  He saw that she had placed all of her money in a ziplock bag and was trying to wrap it in Christmas paper.  He asked her what she was doing – all thought of discipline being completely wiped away by his surprise.  In fact, he started to feel guilty that he had interrupted something that seemed to be incredibly important to her.

Sheepishly, she answered that she was wrapping a present.  “All your money you’ve been saving?” he asked.  She nodded her head.

He let that hang for a moment trying to understand through the perspective of a 7 year old, and then, giving up, he said, “who are you giving it to?”

He was completely unprepared for the response that awaited him.  With eyes that held innocence and compassion, his daughter looked at him directly and said, “to people who don’t have anything.”

Lucas called me after he had regained his composure and asked if I could come have a conversation with his daughter as she wanted to make a donation to World Relief Canada.  Suffice it to say that I said yes.

It’s not the size of her gift that will make the biggest impact.  It’s the size of her heart that will change all of us.

And so, right now, at this moment, while I love all of you equally.  Keira is my favourite.

(But know when I say it, I am winking at you.)

May you know the spirit of Christmas this year like little Keira does.  And may God bless you and your family like Keira has blessed us.

Eric Frans, CFRE

Director of Fund Development