Because we wanted to have a variety of experiences this year, we realized it would be necessary to bend the rules a little here and there.The opportunity I found for this Saturday was perfect....except that the minimum age for participants was 8 years old. Since we have two children under that age, we decided that some projects are going to be just for one or more of the bigger kids, while the littler ones stay home and do something more their speed. Since my oldest son was busy with a campout this weekend, that left me and my oldest daughter paired up for what I think has been the best adventure yet: KICKBALL!
Okay, who DOESN'T like kickball? Even with all those bad memories of being the last one chosen for a team, or of the outfielders moving in calling "EASY OUT!" when you came to the plate, you have to admit that once you're playing the game, its just downright fun. Our assignment: play kickball with the most excellent residents of a local home for adults with disabilities. Honestly, I don't think I've met a more extraordinary set of folks in my lifetime.
Ray is deaf, and doesn't speak, but makes up for it in what he expresses in his peaceful demeanor and infectious grin. Ernie just got a job, and is so excited about it he loves to tell everyone. And then give them a pencil. I got a yellow number 2 with a purple eraser on top. My daughter got one with bunnies. I carefully zipped them into my coat pocket so I wouldn't lose them while we played. Sue has not only kindness but fairness and wisdom; I listened to her counsel one of her friends about some problems her friend was having with another resident. Autumn loves sports and was excited to be the team captain. She instantly took to my daughter and chose her first for her team. She went out of her way to make my daughter feel welcome and a part of the game. And then there is Ned. He did a happy dance every time he got up to kick. He got me out at second base and teased me for it the whole time.
We had a blast, and two hours went by too fast. I found myself realizing that I wasn't really helping them at all, but they were helping me. They laughed with me when I ran for the wrong base. They showed me how to be competitive and kind. They taught me about including everyone. They gave to me. I came away with my arms full of gifts, and I didn't bring a thing.
Is this what volunteering really is? Is it realizing that in the end, you don't have anything much to give, but end up receiving what you never realized you lacked in the first place? It sounds so selfish, because I know its not about me. But really, I had nothing to give they didn't already have, and I had everything to receive from them. Is this what is meant by when you try to lose your life, you actually find it? Sometimes I don't understand this backward universe.
Or kickball.
One time I got up to kick, the infield moved in, calling out "EASY OUT!". I guess some things still make sense.
Okay, who DOESN'T like kickball? Even with all those bad memories of being the last one chosen for a team, or of the outfielders moving in calling "EASY OUT!" when you came to the plate, you have to admit that once you're playing the game, its just downright fun. Our assignment: play kickball with the most excellent residents of a local home for adults with disabilities. Honestly, I don't think I've met a more extraordinary set of folks in my lifetime.
Ray is deaf, and doesn't speak, but makes up for it in what he expresses in his peaceful demeanor and infectious grin. Ernie just got a job, and is so excited about it he loves to tell everyone. And then give them a pencil. I got a yellow number 2 with a purple eraser on top. My daughter got one with bunnies. I carefully zipped them into my coat pocket so I wouldn't lose them while we played. Sue has not only kindness but fairness and wisdom; I listened to her counsel one of her friends about some problems her friend was having with another resident. Autumn loves sports and was excited to be the team captain. She instantly took to my daughter and chose her first for her team. She went out of her way to make my daughter feel welcome and a part of the game. And then there is Ned. He did a happy dance every time he got up to kick. He got me out at second base and teased me for it the whole time.
We had a blast, and two hours went by too fast. I found myself realizing that I wasn't really helping them at all, but they were helping me. They laughed with me when I ran for the wrong base. They showed me how to be competitive and kind. They taught me about including everyone. They gave to me. I came away with my arms full of gifts, and I didn't bring a thing.
Is this what volunteering really is? Is it realizing that in the end, you don't have anything much to give, but end up receiving what you never realized you lacked in the first place? It sounds so selfish, because I know its not about me. But really, I had nothing to give they didn't already have, and I had everything to receive from them. Is this what is meant by when you try to lose your life, you actually find it? Sometimes I don't understand this backward universe.
Or kickball.
One time I got up to kick, the infield moved in, calling out "EASY OUT!". I guess some things still make sense.
No comments:
Post a Comment