A Conspiracy of Kindness
· Being
What happens when we come together to create moments of hope, joy, and belonging?
Every Saturday or Sunday, I have a little ritual. I open the Notes app on my phone and scroll through all the things I’ve collected throughout the week. It’s a wonderfully unorganized collection of thoughts, words, quotes, links, photos, and ideas that caught my attention. Some are things I want to explore, others are reminders of conversations I’ve had, and a few make absolutely no sense when I revisit them. I’m sure I’m not alone in that.
I love this practice because it gives me a chance to revisit things I might have otherwise forgotten. Sometimes an idea that seemed insignificant on a Tuesday becomes something much more meaningful when I return to it a few days later.
Last week, one of those notes was just these words: A conspiracy of kindness.
I don’t remember exactly where I heard or read the phrase, but I immediately loved it. We typically associate conspiracy with something secretive or harmful, people working together behind the scenes toward an outcome that isn’t necessarily good. But what if we reclaimed that word for something beautiful? What if we became intentional about conspiring to do good, bringing people together to create moments of hope, encouragement, generosity, and joy?
As I thought about those words, I realized I had just experienced two beautiful examples of exactly that. And those experiences brought back a memory from years ago that I still carry with me.
When 70,000 People Choose to Care
Last weekend, Sarah and I were at the University of Iowa for College GameDay. If you’ve ever experienced a big college football weekend, you know the energy is something special. The crowds, the traditions, the music, the anticipation, and the sense of belonging that comes from thousands of people gathering around something they love.
But one of the most meaningful moments of the day had very little to do with football.
At Kinnick Stadium, there’s a tradition called the Iowa Wave. At the end of the first quarter, tens of thousands of fans turn away from the field and look toward the University of Iowa Stead Family Children’s Hospital, which overlooks the stadium. High above the field, children receiving treatment, along with their families and caregivers, gather at the windows to watch.
And everyone waves. Players, coaches, fans, and even the opposing team participate. For a brief moment, the game becomes secondary to something much more important.
Standing there and watching it happen was incredibly moving.
Watch the Iowa Wave story from ESPN.
Think about what those children and families are experiencing. Some are facing serious illnesses, frightening diagnoses, difficult treatments, and days filled with uncertainty. For many, the hospital has become a place where life looks very different from what they imagined. Yet for those few minutes, thousands of people are looking toward them, acknowledging them, and reminding them that they are not forgotten.
It’s a simple gesture. No elaborate production is necessary. No one needs to give a speech. People just turn around and wave. But the simplicity is what makes it so beautiful.
As the week went on, I watched videos from people who had been at GameDay and later visited the hospital. Seeing their experiences and the emotion surrounding those visits gave me an even deeper appreciation for what was happening beyond the stadium. From the stands, the wave is an inspiring tradition. From inside the hospital, it can mean something much more personal.
And it reminded me of something I learned years ago through our creative work with Make-A-Wish. When we worked with Make-A-Wish, I began to understand that the impact of a wish goes well beyond the actual experience. There is something powerful about having something to look forward to, especially when so much of your life is being defined by medical appointments, treatments, and uncertainty. A wish creates anticipation. It gives families an opportunity to imagine something wonderful together and, for a while, focus on possibility rather than illness.
Hope becomes something they can participate in.
The science behind this is fascinating. Research on hope, particularly the work of psychologist C. R. Snyder, suggests that hope is more than a positive feeling. It involves having meaningful goals, believing there are pathways toward them, and feeling some ability to move forward. Positive emotions also help broaden our thinking and strengthen our capacity to connect with others, something psychologist Barbara Fredrickson has explored through her broaden-and-build theory.
Of course, waving at a hospital cannot take away a diagnosis, and a wish cannot erase the challenges a family faces. But these experiences can offer moments of relief, connection, anticipation, and joy. They can remind people that their lives are about more than the difficult circumstances they are navigating. And sometimes that reminder is exactly what someone needs.
What struck me about the Iowa Wave is that nobody in the stadium knows exactly what the children on the other side of those windows are experiencing. We don’t know their stories, their struggles, or what tomorrow might bring. Yet everyone participates anyway.
We don’t need to know someone’s entire story to show them they matter.
A Jacket, a Basketball Legend, and One Very Happy Kid
A little later that day, Sarah and I were walking back toward our car when we noticed a crowd gathering around a basketball court. We quickly learned that Caitlin Clark was going to be there for an event celebrating the release of her new shoes.
Naturally, we decided to check it out. We ended up right against the barricade in the front row, and sure enough, out came Caitlin. The crowd was excited, phones were out, and everyone was hoping for a chance to see her up close.
At one point, Caitlin started walking in our direction with a jacket she was going to give away. I had my phone out taking pictures, and from where we were standing, it looked like she was about to hand it directly to Sarah.
Now, if you know Sarah, you know how excited she would have been. I could already imagine the celebration that was about to happen.
But at the very last second, a dad standing nearby lifted his young son onto his shoulders. Caitlin noticed him, changed direction, and handed the jacket to the boy instead.
And what happened next was absolutely wonderful.
The little boy and his dad started jumping up and down, celebrating like they had just won the national championship. Their excitement was completely genuine and impossible not to enjoy. You could see how much that moment meant to both of them.
And there was Sarah, who had been approximately one second away from receiving a jacket from Caitlin Clark.
Was she disappointed? Absolutely. And I don’t blame her one bit. But she was also genuinely happy to have witnessed that moment between a father and his son. We both were.
I kept thinking about what that little boy would remember. The jacket itself will probably become a treasured possession, but I suspect the real gift was the experience. The excitement of being lifted onto his dad’s shoulders, the surprise of Caitlin noticing him, and the joy of sharing that experience with his father.
I imagine they’ll be telling that story for years. And isn’t that a wonderful thing? A few seconds of attention from one person became a lasting memory for two others, while the rest of us standing nearby got to share in their happiness.
There was no complicated strategy behind it. Just someone noticing another person and choosing to make their day.
Why Someone Else’s Joy Matters to Us
As I reflected on these two experiences, I became interested in why witnessing someone else’s happiness can affect us so deeply.
Psychologists have studied something called moral elevation, the uplifting feeling we experience when we witness acts of kindness, generosity, or human goodness. Research by Jonathan Haidt and others suggests that witnessing these moments can inspire us to become more generous and helpful ourselves.
In other words, goodness doesn’t have to happen directly to us for it to change us. We can experience genuine joy simply by witnessing someone else receive it.
That helps explain why the little boy receiving Caitlin Clark’s jacket was so memorable. Sarah didn’t get the jacket, and I didn’t get anything other than a few photos. Yet we walked away with a story that made us happy because we had witnessed someone else’s extraordinary moment.
It also helps explain why watching the Iowa Wave feels so powerful. Thousands of people are participating in something that benefits someone else, and somehow everyone involved receives something meaningful.