I'm thankful that through my foundation I can provide

Paul Millsap once spoke with humility and compassion: “I’m thankful that through my foundation I can provide much-needed supplies to children as they start school and some relief to parents who have a hard time making ends meet.” These words, though spoken by an athlete whose name is known in arenas, are the words of a servant-leader who has turned his blessings outward. They are not a boast of wealth or success, but a confession of gratitude—that the strength of his hands, earned through years of labor, could now be transformed into hope for those who struggle.

The ancients always revered the virtue of giving back. In the laws of Moses, the corners of the field were left for the poor, so that none would starve. In Rome, the greatest leaders were remembered not for their conquests alone but for the foundations they built—roads, aqueducts, and grain stores that blessed the lives of ordinary citizens. Millsap’s gift of supplies to children is in this same spirit: not a grand temple or monument, but the simple tools of learning—pencils, paper, backpacks—that allow the young to step forward with dignity.

His focus on children carries a wisdom as old as time. For the child is both the weakest and the strongest—the weakest because they depend on others for survival, the strongest because in them lies the seed of the future. To equip a child for school is not a small act, but a great one. It is to arm a warrior before battle, to place a lamp in the hand of one who will walk a dark road. Millsap’s gratitude is not for possessions but for the ability to help the next generation stand tall.

And he does not forget the parents, burdened under the weight of poverty and struggle. To bring them relief, even for a moment, is to honor the unseen sacrifices they make daily. In this, Millsap’s words call to mind the story of Joseph in Egypt, who through foresight and stewardship saved families from famine, easing the weight of fathers and mothers who feared for their children. The act of providing for those who can scarcely provide for themselves is the essence of mercy and the highest form of leadership.

The heart of Millsap’s reflection is thankfulness. Many who rise from hardship forget the path they walked and hoard their blessings in pride. But Millsap remembers. His gratitude acknowledges not only what he has received but what he can now give. This is the transformation of fortune into service, of success into responsibility. Gratitude, when it matures, does not end in words but overflows into action that uplifts others.

The deeper meaning is this: true wealth lies not in how much one keeps, but in how much one can share. Millsap’s foundation is more than an organization—it is a symbol of this eternal truth, that blessings find their greatest purpose when they are passed on. The ancients taught that rivers grow stagnant when hoarded but flow with life when released. So too with wealth, talent, and opportunity: they are meant to flow outward, sustaining the community, refreshing the weary, and giving life where there was lack.

The lesson for us is clear. Whatever our station, however small our means, we too can provide relief and dignity to others. A book given, a meal shared, a hand extended—these acts carry the same spirit as Millsap’s gifts. Do not wait for wealth or fame to become a giver; begin now, with what you have. Gratitude must always lead to generosity, for without generosity it dies within us, but with it, it becomes eternal.

Practical counsel may be given. Look around you for those whose burdens you can lighten: the children who need encouragement, the parents who need relief, the neighbors who need hope. Create your own “foundation,” whether in formal structure or in daily acts of service, and be thankful for every chance to give. For in the end, as Paul Millsap reminds us, the truest measure of success is not how far we have risen, but how deeply we have lifted others.