Wow, I did not think I’d cry reading this book.

My family is not indigenous, but we are immigrants in America. We come from a Slavic background, which is very community-oriented. You never, and I mean NEVER, go to anybody’s house without a gift. The gift doesn’t have to be fancy (it could just be a box of crackers or some dish you cooked), but it’s rude if you don’t bring something. That culture has really stuck with my family.

We have a running joke in our family. We joke that we’re so nice, we’re dumb. The underlying truth is that we’ve carried our culture’s generosity that we were taught into our lives here.

My parents are both skilled workers. My Dad is an electrician, and my mom is a seamstress. Their skills are valuable, yet I’d watch them donate their time and do work for my neighbors and church community for free all the time. It wasn’t until my mom got very sick last year, that I finally understood how valued my parents’ generous gift-giving had been over the years.

People I hadn’t thought about for years brought food, money, and offered to help take care of my mom. My dad’s coworkers covered shifts for him so he could take care of her. Our neighbors helped us with our yard work. These people all kept saying the same thing- “we just want to pay back the kindness your parents showed us.”

So, as I was reading the part of this book about the hunter sharing his meat with his community, knowing that his community will share their gifts with him in the future, I was reminded of my family. Gift-giving really does build community and love for your fellow humans! It’s delightful to give, and it’s even more delightful to receive when you really need help from your neighbors.