It was announcement at a former job, that community service was now a category in the yearly performance evaluations. As a group we volunteered to feed the homeless at a church in the lower level. It had a full kitchen. I remember seeing people lined up outside, but didn't look "homeless" in my opinion. This was a weekly undertaking for this particular church, with a well running system. Everyone in line received one plate of food. Once every person had a plate, seconds were allowed, until that day's supply ran out. My job was to serve either coffee or kool-aid, based on their preference. So I went to each table asking every person their preference and pouring it into their cup. There were professionals from various social services standing around talking. It seemed more like a social gathering. Then a family walked in, husband, wife, 3 children. All had their heads down, no eye contact. I could tell they were homeless. Tears welled up in my eyes. I watched how the professionals immediately went to them, speaking as best as possible to this family in their native language. They asked if they needed medical care, a place to sleep, and other questions about the children. The father answered by nodding his head yes or no, but no eye contact. I walked into the kitchen and cried, and was told to get it out of my system, and not show them pity but respect. They were all given plates of food. So I went back out with the pitchers and poured whichever they chose. I went home later that night, feeling the most fulfilled I've ever felt in my entire life. Looking at my closet, I realized I had too much. At work the next day, I learned that others who participated did not feel fulfilled at all. Actually they did not share my feelings or thoughts about having too much. I signed up to go a second time. They did not.
I volunteer leading a Zen group at a prison, and it's a slog. Lately I've wondered how to compare the benefits of the program to the prisoners, and to me, versus the costs. Thanks for writing this, I relate to it strongly. Your experience gives me some permission to admit how unsatisfying my volunteering is recently.
This line struck a big chord for me: “It was not bringing me greater joy or deeper meaning. It was a job--a job I didn’t get paid for.”
A year ago the attendance at one of our schools PTA meetings was low, which is typical. It’s hard to get parent involvement in a school with our diverse and low-income school community.
There was one position left and only one person who had volunteered for years on the call in the position to fill it: me.
After a conflict among the PTA erupted in a mild scandal, I was promoted to President. Reading your piece was helpful because I also need to connect continually with the intangible benefits of the work. Much of it is labor, and much of it is invisible and thankless. With a demanding full time job and two young children, I have joked at what a mistake it was. And then I speak to a mother, humbly asking for good assistance and feel the shame of my casual, dismissiveness. When I connect with others I feel the impact and sometimes work is work. I am trying to see it all as good work. Valuable work.
I have to remember why I did this in the first place: I felt that it was necessary in my life to not just focus on my own aspirations, comforts and achievements. And where do I do the most good? In proximity with others. In caring about, and showing up, and in pitching in.
Thanks for the reminder that I am not alone in the journey of reconnecting to that greater good.
This piece really resonated with me, Sara. I don’t have the Buddhist background you do, but for many years I would try to have one volunteer-type activity alongside my paid work. I found that the type of work that I enjoyed most was when I felt like I got something out of it too. Like the time I was a conversation partner for people learning English and got to meet people from all over the world and talk about language with them — how English worked versus their native language. Or when I’ve done pro bono work and can help someone do something they probably couldn’t do on their own. But I can see where it gets tricky when you have expectations of the people you are trying to “help.” You raise some interesting questions (and answers) in thinking through that dilemma.
Yeah, I hear people advising others to volunteer as an antidote to loneliness. Meh. Sometimes volunteering is just work as you said. Sometimes you can be hurt by the actions of the people you’re trying to help and you just have to let that go because like you said, you don’t know what’s going on with their lives. Sometimes I feel a real sense of connection and a “high” only to crash emotionally after going home to an empty apartment. In some cases, the people leading the volunteers can be difficult or abusive. Volunteering may benefit me as well but it is not a replacement for intimacy or friendship (so I do get annoyed with the admonitions to volunteer because it will make me feel better). When I volunteer, I do it with boundaries, hoping it’s helping people, and it’s because it’s the right thing to do and I try to be satisfied with that.
I don't have a volunteering experience to share but wanted to say I really enjoyed reading this; I 'felt' all of those people and lives you described. Thanks, Sara.
It was announcement at a former job, that community service was now a category in the yearly performance evaluations. As a group we volunteered to feed the homeless at a church in the lower level. It had a full kitchen. I remember seeing people lined up outside, but didn't look "homeless" in my opinion. This was a weekly undertaking for this particular church, with a well running system. Everyone in line received one plate of food. Once every person had a plate, seconds were allowed, until that day's supply ran out. My job was to serve either coffee or kool-aid, based on their preference. So I went to each table asking every person their preference and pouring it into their cup. There were professionals from various social services standing around talking. It seemed more like a social gathering. Then a family walked in, husband, wife, 3 children. All had their heads down, no eye contact. I could tell they were homeless. Tears welled up in my eyes. I watched how the professionals immediately went to them, speaking as best as possible to this family in their native language. They asked if they needed medical care, a place to sleep, and other questions about the children. The father answered by nodding his head yes or no, but no eye contact. I walked into the kitchen and cried, and was told to get it out of my system, and not show them pity but respect. They were all given plates of food. So I went back out with the pitchers and poured whichever they chose. I went home later that night, feeling the most fulfilled I've ever felt in my entire life. Looking at my closet, I realized I had too much. At work the next day, I learned that others who participated did not feel fulfilled at all. Actually they did not share my feelings or thoughts about having too much. I signed up to go a second time. They did not.
I volunteer leading a Zen group at a prison, and it's a slog. Lately I've wondered how to compare the benefits of the program to the prisoners, and to me, versus the costs. Thanks for writing this, I relate to it strongly. Your experience gives me some permission to admit how unsatisfying my volunteering is recently.
This line struck a big chord for me: “It was not bringing me greater joy or deeper meaning. It was a job--a job I didn’t get paid for.”
A year ago the attendance at one of our schools PTA meetings was low, which is typical. It’s hard to get parent involvement in a school with our diverse and low-income school community.
There was one position left and only one person who had volunteered for years on the call in the position to fill it: me.
After a conflict among the PTA erupted in a mild scandal, I was promoted to President. Reading your piece was helpful because I also need to connect continually with the intangible benefits of the work. Much of it is labor, and much of it is invisible and thankless. With a demanding full time job and two young children, I have joked at what a mistake it was. And then I speak to a mother, humbly asking for good assistance and feel the shame of my casual, dismissiveness. When I connect with others I feel the impact and sometimes work is work. I am trying to see it all as good work. Valuable work.
I have to remember why I did this in the first place: I felt that it was necessary in my life to not just focus on my own aspirations, comforts and achievements. And where do I do the most good? In proximity with others. In caring about, and showing up, and in pitching in.
Thanks for the reminder that I am not alone in the journey of reconnecting to that greater good.
This piece really resonated with me, Sara. I don’t have the Buddhist background you do, but for many years I would try to have one volunteer-type activity alongside my paid work. I found that the type of work that I enjoyed most was when I felt like I got something out of it too. Like the time I was a conversation partner for people learning English and got to meet people from all over the world and talk about language with them — how English worked versus their native language. Or when I’ve done pro bono work and can help someone do something they probably couldn’t do on their own. But I can see where it gets tricky when you have expectations of the people you are trying to “help.” You raise some interesting questions (and answers) in thinking through that dilemma.
Yeah, I hear people advising others to volunteer as an antidote to loneliness. Meh. Sometimes volunteering is just work as you said. Sometimes you can be hurt by the actions of the people you’re trying to help and you just have to let that go because like you said, you don’t know what’s going on with their lives. Sometimes I feel a real sense of connection and a “high” only to crash emotionally after going home to an empty apartment. In some cases, the people leading the volunteers can be difficult or abusive. Volunteering may benefit me as well but it is not a replacement for intimacy or friendship (so I do get annoyed with the admonitions to volunteer because it will make me feel better). When I volunteer, I do it with boundaries, hoping it’s helping people, and it’s because it’s the right thing to do and I try to be satisfied with that.
Sara, what a fabulous essay. Girl! You've got it going on! Thank you.
I don't have a volunteering experience to share but wanted to say I really enjoyed reading this; I 'felt' all of those people and lives you described. Thanks, Sara.
Thank you, Teresa!