Because my heart needed a bit of help this Christmas

I am reeling today, you guys.

And every time I think of what happened, I get this feeling that takes over… this feeling that tells me that no matter how I’ve felt lately, no matter what kind of fear I have about the world or what’s ahead, if we all can just remember to do kind things in small ways we will make big impact.

It started with a gift card.

My friends Nate and J Money (Y’all probably remember them from Love Drop) decided to launch a new project: The Rockstar Community Fund. And because I’ve basically been waiting for the Love Drop reboot for a couple years, when Nate told me about RCF, immediately I was all, SIGN ME UP.

Then my $20 Visa Gift Card arrived.

The guys weren’t really persnickety about what we needed to do with the #GivingCard. Spread some kindness, make a difference. Immediately, my mind reeled with all of the possibilities for this card. Some of the ideas were quirky, some were fun, some had long range future potential, some were goofy. There were so many things I could do, and I was excited about the possibility of it all.

And then on Tuesday, I got another idea. Scrolling through Twitter I saw a tweet about school lunch programs, and I thought to myself, hmmmmm. There’s something here.

As a parent – it’s one of the most basic things we do for our children, we keep them fed… but what if times are tough? I wanted to contribute in a way that parents didn’t need to worry about whether their kids could get a warm meal at school and I wanted to ease that worry for kids, too.

I reached out to our local school food services department. I didn’t have a lot of money, I told them, but… if I wanted to pay it forward, pay down some students’ negative lunch balance, would that be possible? The head of Food Services wrote back almost immediately – yes, yes it would. So, next, I emailed some friends. I had my $20 #GivingCard, and I could certainly chip in some of my own cash – but… what if I wanted to do more?

Immediately, a friend emailed back with an offer for a donation. Then my sister forwarded the email around her office. Now, we were getting somewhere.

Wednesday, I reached out to Facebook. I told them:

I’m collecting funds that will be given to our local schools to pay down student lunch debt for families in need. Families should not have to worry about whether their kiddo has a warm lunch at school… and kids shouldn’t have to worry about it either. I’ve been in touch with the awesome folks at Food Services and they will determine how best to apply whatever funds we can collect.

Donations streamed in. Friends in other states donated – something that I had never in a million years pictured happening. My daughter even chipped in a few dollars of her own money.

I was getting excited counting checks and Paypal donations. Suddenly, this was feeling big.

This morning, with all of our donations tucked into an envelope, my daughters and I went to drop off the donations. The person I wanted to speak to wasn’t there, and that was disappointing. I thought about the time I spent trying to get this right, to make an impact, and I forgot to actually coordinate a time to deliver the funds. Small potatoes, I guess. The staff let me write a note, and I tucked the note and my envelope under a stapler on the manager’s desk.

Our $20 gift card had grown to $330!

High five to my kids as I sent them off to their respective school days. I drove to work, feeling pretty dang good. (Doing good, it feels SO good.)

The manager emailed me, “We got your funds! I will get this into accounts today and let you know how many families this was able to help.”

Awesome. I was relieved, to be honest, to know that the money was there when she arrived, safely tucked beneath the stapler.

Another hour later, she shared with me that our $330 donation cleared up every negative lunch balance for the middleschool. The Food Services team coordinated with the counseling office to determine the greatest need for funds, and the balance of our donations went to fund the lunch accounts for six students with an extenuating financial need.

All told, we helped 43 families with our donation.

I still can’t even believe it.

I even received another donation tonight, so we can continue to positively impact the families in our school district, and lighten their load.

Our school district posted about it on their Facebook page – which kinda made me feel weird. They referred to our group of donors as an anonymous donor, and I’ve been so cautious of how it makes people feel: every dollar donated matters, and every person who donated was a huge part of what we were able to accomplish. As of this writing, that post has been shared sixty times, and has received over 600 likes. It’s a little mindboggling and I’m glad they didn’t name me (though I so wish they had mentioned how many people had a hand in making this happen).

The reaction has been so favorable, so as weird as I feel, I guess my biggest hope is that someone else sees it and maybe donates some more money to the schools. Or does something to bring about kindness in their own way, somehow.

Maybe somehow we can keep this cycle of good stuff going.

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As for me, this reinforces what I already knew: this is the kind of work I am meant to be doing. I feel so fulfilled by knowing that through the work we did, so many families were helped. Every donation that came in felt like its own little Christmas morning to me. I haven’t felt this satisfied by any thing I’ve done in a long time.

I’m ridiculously happy.

It started with a gift card. Just twenty bucks. I’m so grateful to Nate and J for allowing me to be a part of this project. I’m grateful for the opportunity, through the Rockstar Community Fund, to find new ways to make an impact on the world.

In case you hadn’t noticed lately, the world is kind of scary. These times feel uncertain and I’ve felt this massive range of emotions since November 8… but I swore that I was going to try to put more positivity in the world, and I tell ya, I’m not always good about doing that… but today we did.

We did it.

High five, people. We just might be okay after all.