I picked up my coffee early this morning at our local WaWa (for those of you who aren’t on the East Coast, you’ll have to Google that and then quietly envy our superior convenience stores) and drove to my office in Valley Forge, PA. After an uneventful, pleasant drive that gave me a little extra planning time, I pulled into my parking space, ready to start the day. I opened the door to get out …
… and there was a sudden explosion of dust, feathers, chirping, and chaos! A bird had just zipped in through the open door and was now racing around inside my car in a full-blown panic, a brown blur of speed and determination.
Although, to be fair, I’m not sure who was panicking more. It was so unexpected, so sudden, that I had no idea what to do. She chirped and flapped frantically, feathers flying, while I tried to figure out what, exactly, was happening all around me.
I thought about negotiating. I thought about reasoning with her. But, as experience has shown me time and time again, logic rarely works on those in full panic mode. (Just ask any fundraiser who’s ever tried to explain planned giving to a board member who believes a bake sale will save the annual budget.)
Then I started laughing and opened all the windows. Although she flew out instantly—because really, it’s a small space for a panicking bird and a panicking CEO to share—I kind of wished she’d hung out a little longer so I could at least figure out what kind of bird she was. You know, maybe have a meaningful conversation about her estate planning strategy.
The Unexpected Visitor Principle
The thing about life is that no matter how much you plan, some things just come flying at you out of nowhere. A bird in the car. A thug I encountered (and learned a lesson from) in L.A. An ex-competitor who just realized you outmaneuvered them ten years ago and now wants to “grab lunch.” Or, even better, a fellow worker or an ex-business partner who once used your brand to elevate his own credibility—until he convinced himself he owned it. And when that illusion crumbled, he tried to take what wasn’t his, forcing a lawsuit just to set the record straight.
At least the bird in my car had a sense of urgency and some degree of competence.
In each case, there’s an immediate gut reaction. Panic, amusement, or in some cases, checking to see if your life insurance policy is up to date. But what really matters is how you respond.
Do you:
- Close the doors and let the panic consume you?
- Try to rationalize with the chaos?
- Open the windows and let the problem fly away?
Planned Giving: The Ultimate Open Window
This unexpected feathery incident really got me thinking. The bird and I both escaped unharmed—thankfully, the car was parked. But imagine if it had flown in through an open window while I was driving? One minute you’re enjoying your coffee, the next you’re explaining to your insurance company why your car swerved off the road due to an unexpected avian co-pilot.
And that’s the thing about life—it throws surprises at you when you least expect them. One day we’re here, the next we’re gone. We don’t always get the opportunity to grow old and pass away peacefully after a 92-year-long chess match with fate.
Most people operate under the belief that they have all the time in the world to plan their estate. They tell themselves, “Oh, I’ll get to that later,” right before jumping into a car with the windows wide open to fate (and stray birds). The truth is, later isn’t guaranteed. A simple accident can take your legacy away. If you don’t plan, you’re essentially letting fate decide where your wealth goes. And fate, as we all know, has a cruel sense of humor.
The Bird Brain Approach to Estate Planning
The average person spends more time planning their vacation than they do their estate. They will argue over window seats, Wi-Fi access, and whether the Airbnb is within walking distance of the best espresso bar—but when it comes to planning for their family’s future? Meh.
Meanwhile, nonprofits are out there trying to have this very conversation with donors, often met with the same level of enthusiasm one would reserve for a door-to-door timeshare salesman. Why? Because people don’t like to think about the inevitable. It makes them uncomfortable. So they avoid it until, one day, it’s too late.
But here’s the thing: planned giving is not about dying. It’s about control. It’s about deciding what happens with your assets while you still have a say. It’s about not letting the government take a giant chunk of your hard-earned wealth because you didn’t take 30 minutes to draft a simple estate plan.
Lessons from the Feathered Financial Advisor
Here’s what that bird taught me (and what fundraisers should be reminding donors every chance they get):
- If you don’t plan, chaos will ensue. Just like an unplanned bird invasion, an unplanned estate can result in assets flying in all directions with no clear destination.
- Life comes at you fast. One moment, you’re sipping coffee, the next, you’re dealing with unexpected guests. Planning now means fewer surprises later.
- Exit strategies matter. The bird figured out the way out quickly. Humans, however, seem to have a harder time planning their departure, especially when it comes to their financial legacy.
- Avoid the bird-brained approach. Ignoring estate planning is like pretending a bird isn’t flapping around in your car. It won’t make the problem go away—it’ll just create a bigger mess later.
Live Well. Leave Well
Estate planning isn’t about doom and gloom—it’s about making sure your values, assets, and wishes are honored. It’s about setting up your family (or your favorite nonprofit) for success. And yes, it’s about avoiding the government swooping in like a vulture to claim what you didn’t properly allocate.
If you haven’t started your estate planning yet, check out LegacyPlanner™—a simple tool to help you organize your giving priorities and create a meaningful impact. And for an easy way to educate yourself or your donors, our Estate Planning Booklets break down everything you need to know.
So, what’s your planned giving strategy? Are you calmly opening the windows and ensuring everything lands where it should? Or are you frantically flapping around, hoping someone else will take care of it after you’re gone?
Anything else is just being a bird brain.