You never know how an experience is going to affect you. That’s the beauty of this crazy, wonderful, odd life. Three years ago, I started volunteering at the food bank on Tuesdays. I had left my day job a couple of months prior and rather than roam the world like I thought I wanted to, I decided to stay close to home so I could focus on dating and figuring out my next career move. I had quit a comfortable, but intellectually deadening job to “follow my bliss,” but I was acutely aware that in the throes of a recession, my bliss wasn’t going to be paying my mortgage anytime soon. Volunteering at the food bank was a challenge in the beginning. Dealing with the seniors, the mentally ill, the pungent homeless, and the everyday folk battling a new existence in our down economy was far from pleasant. I was dating a Republican at the time, and after a day dealing with my “challenging” clientele on my volunteer shift, I would come home and sit across from him on the couch at night while he railed against people being cranky with me while holding their hand out for free food and services. With a support system like that, naturally I often wanted to quit. On top of it all, I was being exposed to so many new viruses, I was sick almost every other week. I was out of work and adrift, and I hadn’t yet started my editing program at UW. But eventually I got over the growing pains. The food bank changed their policies on how we handled disabled, senior, and homeless clientele – simple shifts that made all the difference – and I ended up staying. Tuesdays became my touch point, my Third Place, even when I went back to school and started dating someone new. A Democrat this time, thankfully. He was more empathetic to my weekly do-goodery. Because of increased demand from my freelance gig at Compendium, today will be my last Tuesday at the food bank. I wish it was an April Fools’ Day joke to say this. My heart hurts and I am again flailing – this time not from job insecurity, but from job growth and security that has necessitated the shift. I am flailing because of the loss. I will miss the volunteers and clients I have grown to know so well. After 3 years, many of the same impoverished clients are still there. As the economy improved, many moved on. I’ll treasure the high-fives shared with the ones who interviewed well and secured the job; the hugs for those moving back home to be closer to family; the ones who’d returned to school and we’d chat about their homework; the babies that grew into toddlers; the everyday people who reminded me, week after week, how fundamentally similar we all are. In the end I don’t know who had the greater need – them or me. “When we give without expectation of reward or recognition, our hearts open to the wealth of love. There are few things that can offer you a greater sense of love—for yourself, or for your fellow man—than giving to someone with a need bigger than your own.” –Iyanla Vanzant
Posted on: Tue, 01 Apr 2014 17:08:43 +0000
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