The Bold Bookmark

While working the Book Fair at the middle school this winter, a boy stopped by and asked if we had the latest book in the Eragon series.

“Murtagh?!” I responded excitedly. My kids and I had read several of the books together at bedtime over the summer, and I’d been meaning to add Murtagh to our home library.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have it at the Book Fair, and I confirmed the school library didn’t have it either. But we spent a few minutes talking about the series and how much we’d both enjoyed it. It’s always wonderful to meet someone who is genuinely excited about a series — especially one you’ve loved too.

That night, I ordered two copies of Murtagh: one for him and one for my family. I wrapped his up to make it feel a little more special.

When I handed it to him, he looked completely caught off guard.

“For me? I can keep it???” he asked.

“Yep, all yours. I hope you enjoy it!” I added.

The next day, my son mentioned that the boy had been reading the book during class. Then, a couple days later, I ran into him at school and he was carrying the book with him. He excitedly told me that he was already several hundred pages into it.

At different points this year, I’ve questioned whether my volunteer work at the middle school is really making any impact — or whether I was simply pouring in hours and energy to no effect. In my professional life, I became very accustomed to quantifying impact (whether through my billable hours for a year or the size of a class action settlement) and reaching a broad audience (co-founding and co-leading my firm’s 600+ member women’s affinity group).

But this interaction reminded me that impact doesn’t always have to be broad or quantifiable to matter.

It cost me ten dollars and maybe ten minutes spread across a few conversations. But I know, without question, that I connected with that kid. I showed him that his interests were shared and important, that I saw him, and that he is worthy of being seen and celebrated.

That feels meaningful to me.