My friend Ashley wrote a blog a few years ago explaining why she invests so much of her time in service to others. She said, “When all is said and done, we don’t volunteer just because it feels good, although it does. We don’t do it just because it’s a resume-builder, although it is. We don’t do it just because we think we might meet that special someone at a volunteer project, although we might (just ask me and my husband). We volunteer because we recognize that someone is in need and we have the power to help. As the Jewish sage Hillel says, ‘If I am only for myself, What am I?’”
Now, you’re probably not surprised to hear that that passage brings me to tears. Yes, even after the 25th time reading it. I just feel like – YES – it’s really that simple. Someone is in need. And I can help.
And that very last phrase – whew – it’s like Hillel knew me – “If I am only for myself, What am I?”
Some believe that living a life of service to others is a choice, just like any other profession or path. Others think our destiny is laid out in God’s plan. For me, it’s just … well, it’s just who I am. It’s the only part of me of which I’m truly certain. The only part that makes full and complete sense.
Sometimes I lay awake at night, thinking of all the people in need, of all the causes I’d like to support, of all the ways I could hopefully make a difference. Many of those nights I’ve spent wishing I could “turn it off” and just go to sleep. I try to get lost in books or TV or social media, but when I put the book down or turn off the TV or shut my computer, there’s that darn thought again – what am I going to do tomorrow that will make the world a better place?
I think back to when I was a little girl and first started to understand the importance of helping others. Our family would be walking down the streets of D.C. and pass a homeless person with a sign, asking for help. My father would always backtrack to give something, anything, to help. One time we were in the car and couldn’t stop. My father drove a little further, made a U-turn and stopped to hand the man some money. I have vivid memories of my Nana, on her visits here from Egypt. She would arrive with empty suitcases and fill them with clothing and toys that my sister and I were no longer using, to take back for the poor in her neighborhood. What hit me the hardest was visiting India when I was 20. Everywhere we looked – children begging on the streets. So many children. Some carried by their mothers or older siblings, others alone and hungry. I cried myself to sleep every night in that beautiful country.
I just feel it. All the time. The aching need to do more. To give more. To be a light and a voice for those who live in darkness or silence. Have you ever looked, I mean really looked, into the eyes of someone in need? Someone who is struggling so hard to find that last piece of hope? Someone who doesn’t have the tools or the support or the wherewithal to grab hold of what’s holding them back and change their path? My stomach turns. I feel helpless and guilty.
The truth is, I have been so fortunate to lead a life of privilege. I had parents who supported me (mentally, emotionally, financially). I went to the best schools and participated in all sorts of activities that made me stronger, smarter and well-equipped for the future. I traveled around the U.S. and to Europe and Africa before I could really appreciate what it took to get there.
I came to realize that with privilege comes power. Comes responsibility. Comes the tools and the support and the wherewithal to grab hold of what I see and make real change … for the better.
My parents like to tell the story of my first months getting an allowance. They realized that I was running out of money far earlier than made sense each month, and yet I wasn’t buying obscene amounts of clothing or going out to eat all that often. Finally they asked where all my money was going and I said, as though it was the most natural thing, “I’m donating it.” I remember being surprised that it was even a question. What else would I do with the money? I don’t need it … I’m taken care of. Finally, so that I could have some money for myself, my parents told me to pick my top two charities and they would make those donations on my behalf.
And now here we are years later and my friends tease me, saying, “Is there any [progressive] world cause you don’t support?” The short answer is no. Because I don’t support causes just to support causes. I’m supporting people. I’m supporting movements. I’m doing what I feel is so natural –simply caring enough to do something.
Toward the end of 2014, after many years of raising funds and awareness for different causes from the comfort of my own home, I needed more. I needed to give of myself like I had never given before. I needed to touch the issues with my own two hands and my whole heart. Growing up I’d heard of the Peace Corps and other national service organizations, but I never thought I could leave my family, my friends and my home town to join up. Then, to my own surprise, on a quiet October evening, something inside me said, “Sara, you’re ready. Just go for it.”
So I started the process. I filled out long applications and wondered if I was a good candidate for the programs and how I would fare in the selection process. I dreamed about what life would be like away from home, serving in a community with which I was totally unfamiliar. I watched videos of past presidents and civic leaders talking about the importance of national and international service … and I really did feel like they were talking to me. I spoke with friends and colleagues who had themselves participated in national service. I sat down with my parents to discuss what it would mean to have their support if I left the “working world.”
I started receiving requests for interviews through the AmeriCorps VISTA program. VISTA (Volunteers In Service To America), an idea proposed to Congress by President John F. Kennedy, was founded in 1965 as a national service program to fight poverty in America. Today, more than 46 million Americans live in poverty. 46 million. That number doesn’t even compute. Through this program I would work to help eradicate poverty by building the capacity of organizations that fight illiteracy, improve health services, foster economic development and otherwise assist low-income communities.
After about a dozen interviews, I had some front runners. One organization in Colorado working to motivate and build the lives of incarcerated juveniles. Another in Montana creating services for homeless and at-risk families. And yet another in the great state of Texas, working with the Barbara Bush Houston Literacy Foundation. There were multiple phone calls with each organization. I made spreadsheets to compare the opportunities (no surprise there, right?). In the end, tackling poverty through the power of literacy struck a chord in my heart. And just like that, two short months after telling myself to “just go for it,” I was committed to one year of volunteer service in Houston, Texas!
My friends and family were so supportive. So excited for me. Reminding me to cherish every moment, capture anything I could with a camera and of course, write down the details of my experience so that in 10 years, in 50 years, I can look back and say, wow, that was quite a year. Woohoo – this is going to be amazing!
…
On the other hand – holy crap. This was the kind of thing I’d been preparing for my whole life. Was I even ready? Was I going to do a good job? Was I going to accomplish anything? Was I going to touch lives? Was I going to leave a legacy that made a difference? Mother Teresa said, “I alone can’t change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.”
So I guess that’s what this year is about. Casting ripples.
