Is the desire to help others innate? In my experience, while that might be true in childhood, as we mature, we tend to help because of the sense of fulfillment it brings. Even in academia, the consensus is that while there are genetic differences regarding empathy and prosocial behavior, environmental factors, education, and life experiences also play a combined role.
I took charge of running household errands from the time I was six or seven years old. Once, I asked my mother why she always singled me out—the third child—for these tasks. Her answer was simple: "You always did them willingly without a word of complaint. If I told you to go to the store, you’d dash out the door before I’d even finished speaking." In short, I was the daughter who was easiest to send on errands.
One of those tasks involved relaying telephone messages. In the 1960s, when telephones were a rarity, our house had the only one in the neighborhood. Although it was for my father’s work as a journalist, it received far more calls containing important news for the neighbors. Whenever there was news of a daughter-in-law giving birth, a son getting into university, or a grandfather passing away, I would run all over the neighborhood to deliver the message. The neighborhood elders adored the "third daughter from the house by the well."
After entering elementary school, I was paired as a desk-mate with a friend who used crutches due to polio. Since we lived in the same direction, I simply carried her shoe bag on our way to and from school, yet I was showered with praise from her mother and our teachers. "What exactly did I do so well?" I wondered, feeling a mix of surprise, pride, and happiness.
A turning point in my "life of helping others" came during high school. As penance following confession before Easter, I was assigned to pray ten decades of the Rosary and perform ten acts of "sacrifice." When I asked the nun what "sacrificial penance" meant, she explained it as "willingly making a concession." From that day on, I began giving up my seat to the elderly on the bus, letting my younger sibling have the side dish I liked best, and yielding my turn for the restroom to a friend in a rush. People were grateful, and my mother even gave me extra allowance money, so the side income was quite nice, too.
The greatest gain from that "sacrificial penance" was discovering the "secret formula of helping": that making others happy makes me happy, too. Eventually, during my senior year of high school, I set a life goal to "make one person happy every day"—a practice I have continued ever since. There are countless ways to achieve this goal. A simple compliment—telling a friend an outfit looks great or praising a customer service agent for their kindness—works wonders. Helping a mother with a stroller or paying the bus fare for a student with insufficient funds on their transit card makes me feel even better.
On nights when I haven't managed to make anyone happy, I scroll through my phone contacts, pick someone, and send a message with an emoji asking how they are. Nine times out of ten, I get a delighted reply asking, "What brings this on so late at night?" In that moment, I’ve achieved the day's goal—just in the nick of time.
Over the past 50 years, I’ve brightened the day of at least 18,000 people—one person at a time—and felt a deep sense of fulfillment myself. Having brought joy to so many through small concessions, compliments, and minor acts of help, is there any other activity that offers such incredible value for the effort? That is why I intend to keep doing it for as long as I can. After all, you can do it regardless of whether your legs are weak or your pockets are empty.
That said, the Bible tells us, “Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing” (Matthew 6:3), so I wonder if it is really okay to speak about this so openly. Still, if even one person smiles while reading this, then today’s goal of “bringing joy to one person” has been successfully achieved.
No comments:
Post a Comment