I stood in the chapel, the lights off, except one in the back directly over the card table set up with glue, glitter, cards, a game set, construction paper and other supplies I knew had been carefully counted, boxed up and delivered earlier that week. I knew there were fruit snacks somewhere nearby that Seven had pulled off a shelf at Target and I had delivered to a warehouse on the West Side.

I did not know the woman standing in the chapel. Her head, covered with a scarf, eyebrows growing in, but sparse. I did not know her, but I do now.

Her eyes were bright, and excited, she told us all about the activities she would do with the kids when they arrived later that day. She would play a game called “The Bully Machine” with them, where every turn they could either build or destroy the bully machine, and create a more peaceful world. They would learn how their choices and actions affect others, and create a culture where bullying exists, or doesn’t. The kids have the power.

She was so excited, you see, because she has aggressive breast cancer and a 7 year old daughter. She has been bullied, she has felt stares, she worries about her daughter, she felt strong and she wanted to give back, so she is here, in a shelter on the West Side volunteering.

Because the time is always right to do what is right.

At the next stop, they are building a reading area in a preschool classroom, including benches and cubbies for the kids to put their things when they arrive at school. Volunteers pencil out a mural on the wall, others paint classrooms, and all are there with a smile. I talk to a young man, about 12, who with his father is hammering in nails to complete their bench.

“I don’t have to be here, but I want to be here, I want to make a difference.”

He is doing what is right. He is doing what is right for himself, as well as for the kids who will use this bench who he will never know.

Down the road the gym is full of little children, they have paper booklets, passports, and go from station to station, learning about different cultures through games, crafts and activities, they get a prize and a page for their passport before moving to the next country. A man with a bottle of white glue and a stack of black construction paper helps a girl and her mom make a mendi pattern in glue and then sprinkle it with gold glitter before her smile lights up and he smiles too and the Mother looks up at him and says simply “thank you.”

“The time is always right to do what is right.”

Further north, I enter the ballroom, and hear a voice singing along with Karaoke, the voice is attached to a young man, face painted to look like a cat, smiling big, and a line behind him of others waiting their turn. Further in the room people are dancing to the music, some sit at tables and make crafts, flowers out of tissue paper, and taking up the most space at the back of the room is a group of 20 volunteers and an equal number of adults with developmental disabilities playing beach ball. 6 or 7 large inflated balls soar towards the ceiling and come down again to earth caught and thrown again with great gusto.

And I cried.

There was such joy in the faces of the volunteers, in the faces of the adults, on the face of the woman who works at the home - who said she never has a chance to offer her residents such a fun filled day - she was blown away. There was such joy in seeing people connect with each other, strangers becoming friends, that I was overwhelmed.

And that is pretty amazing after all these years.

I cried and I gave my staff member a hug, she did an amazing job. She and her teammates made this happen, all these interactions across this big, broad, jaded city, soften us, connected us, helped us all feel what it means to do what is right.

To get better.

To be stronger.

And I hope that Dr King would feel proud of us, on this day, that we honor him through service. I hope I have learned the message that he sent, which was not one only about civil rights, but more so about poverty, community, peace and shared responsibility.

And I am hopeful for us all when I see the difference we made by showing up, by opening our hearts, by rolling up our sleeves, by getting involved.

“The time is always right to do what is right.” It isn’t always easy, but it is always worth it.

Filed under service volunteer Chicago MLK