I think you should give more than you get.

There, I said it.

A slightly controversial idea in a world obsessed with making everything equal.

They bought the last round.

I travelled to see them last time.

I spent more on their birthday.

I always call first.

We keep invisible accounts with the people we love.

And when the numbers don’t balance, resentment creeps in.

I have done it too.

When I was younger, I would buy the round even when I couldn’t really afford it.

I have spent two, three, sometimes five times more on someone’s birthday present than they spent on mine.

I have turned up to barbecues with all the food.

Not some of the food.

All of it.

On more than one occasion, had I not brought it, we would have been grilling the host.

At times, my generosity has hurt my wallet.

But here is the strange thing:

I rarely regret giving too much.

I regret the moments when I held back.

When I had nothing - I thought I couldn't give anything.

Which made it worse.

I was expected to bring something, but I was broke, so I brought nothing.

Those are the moments that stay with me.

Money is an awkward subject.

Especially for us English.

We will happily discuss the weather, our dodgy knees and the neighbour’s new extension.

But money is only one way to give.

You can give someone your attention.

Your encouragement.

Your knowledge.

A useful introduction.

A handwritten card.

A phone call when you know they are struggling.

An afternoon helping them move a sofa that has absolutely no intention of fitting through the door.

Some of the most meaningful things we can give cost nothing.

They simply require us to notice.

That may be the real heart of generosity:

Paying attention long enough to discover what another person needs.

But there is something else I am learning.

It matters less what you give than why you give it.

If I buy your dinner while silently expecting you to buy the next one, I haven’t given you dinner.

I have offered you a loan.

I was creating debt.

A gift with an expectation attached is not a gift.

It is a transaction with delayed payment.

I don’t want to live like that.

I don’t want my friendships measured in rounds bought, miles travelled or favours returned.

I want to give because I felt moved to give.

Because I saw something that reminded me of you.

Because you needed help and I could help.

Because seeing you happy brings me happiness too.

Perhaps that is selfish.

If it is, I can live with it.

There are people in my life who understand this.

They don’t announce their generosity.

They don’t remind you of it.

They don’t send an invoice six months later.

They are also some of the happiest people I know.

Maybe because they are not constantly asking:

“What am I getting from this?”

They are asking:

“What can I bring to it?”

That question changes a relationship.

It changes a room.

Over time, it changes a life.

But when you choose to give, give without keeping score.

Because I suspect that at the end of our lives, we will not wish we had calculated everything more carefully.

We will wish we had loved people more generously.

Have a great week ahead

Kia kaha & love

Chris Xx