Posts tagged volunteer

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. 

And 23 hours until this event is put to bed for another year.

It is going to be a wonderful day for so many, this work and these hours are worth it.

I sat at a table in a grade school library and read a book with a group of second graders. I showed them a photo of Seven, and they remarked that she was also white like me. And I said I ordered Purple, but she just came out that way. 

I watched middle schoolers set up laptops and start their own blogs. 

I witnessed 3rd and 4th Graders as they did improve exercises and let their imagination meet their energy. 

I met a 89 year old woman who takes care of her public housing building garden, she showed me Okra, Swiss Chard, the remains of her tomatoes.

Today, I volunteered.  I connected with my community.  I saw a lot of smiles. I smiled a lot myself.

Today, I got better.  I volunteered. 

I feel helpless looking at the screen, seeing the images in the paper and on TV of the devastation in Haiti.  I felt helpless watching like a voyeur the pain of families, mothers, children, fathers, sons as tragedy unfolds after the Tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, terrorist attacks.  I felt helpless; because I wanted to do something, I want to do more than send a check.  And in most cases, I could not.  And in some cases, I could not afford to even send that.

I can not deploy to Haiti to serve.  I can not remove rubble or build housing in Port a Prince.  I can not bring water to the thirsty or food to the hungry.  I can not do these things for the people we see suffering.  Even though I am desperate to help, I can not help the way that I would like. 

But I can help someone.

I can not aid those that suffer in Haiti, but I can help a family in need in Englewood.  I can visit a senior in Rogers Park.  I can help an 8^th grader with their math homework.  I can build a playground for the school where the only place for the children to play is asphalt.  

Bill waits for Holly at the door, in his wheelchair, and when she arrives, his smile lights up the room.  Holly has been Bill’s volunteer for over 10 years, coming every Monday night to play Bingo, provide companionship and offer a warm and friendly smile.  Last year, when Holly was given an award for her service, Bill made sure he was there, in his chair to present it to her.  40 years separate them, but there will never be better friends.

Inside the classroom 20 six year olds wait for Ron. He brings in the boxes and they all start giggling, excited for the day’s experiments. What will they do today?  Ron and his volunteers unpack the plastic bottles, sand, water, salt and other supplies for the lesson.  Today these 20 six year olds will create their very own portable oceans, in their classroom, on an otherwise beautiful Saturday morning.  They would rather be in school.

Norm waits for Mary, shifting weight back and forth, until she comes through the door, with her team of volunteers.  Norm is 72, he runs the neighborhood pantry, he just can’t lift boxes anymore.  He can’t unload the truck.  He can’t make the bags for the families that come in, working Mom’s and Dad’s with children, who just need a little help, a few things to get by until the next check.  But Mary and her volunteer, they can unload the truck, sort the food, pack the boxes, help the families, smile at the Mom who feels the red blush of shame at asking for help, a kind word to make her feel at ease, to let her know it is just a neighbor helping a neighbor, volunteers joke with the children, and load the groceries into the car.  Norm waits for Mary every Thursday.  Norm waits for Mary every Saturday.  And Mary comes.

I can not go to Haiti to help.  But I can help.  In Englewood. In Austin. In Rogers Park and Uptown.  I can help in Woodlawn.  I can be there in Washington Park.   I can not help Haiti, but I am not helpless.  So Saturday, I will volunteer.