Community and Kigatsuku

Our project today took us to a local community center. It began as a food bank; and still functions primarily as such. But it has since expanded to include other essential services to families in need specific to its community....ESL classes, parenting classes, help navigating the paperwork of emergency benefits, etc.

We were there to help a group from Intel do Easter egg dying with children who were waiting for their parents to pick up their food. I was excited about this opportunity because it was one where I could include our six year old.

What I loved about this project was watching my children. Right from the start they dove right in and went to work. They saw what they could do to help, and they did it. No hanging around the corners, no waiting for someone to tell them where to go. Even my six year old saw what to do and did it.

There is a word I learned from a Japanese author: kigatsuku. It means, "an inner spirit to act without being told what to do, a willingness to serve, a self-motivated impulse toward goodness" (Chieko Okazaki, Cat's Cradle, Bookcraft, 1993, pg. 36). It is a rhythm of life: see a need, meet that need. It is a simple, everyday way of lifting where we stand. We don't need to go out of our way to do it; we don't need to sign up for projects or travel to third world countries, we only need to look around us and see how we can help the person right in front of us. It applies everywhere we go: our jobs, our homes, the grocery store, and yes, even on the roads!

There is something so deeply rewarding about watching your children fall into that rhythm, and doing it so well. They are kigatsuku.

Now imagine an entire community of kigatsuku. Imagine the power when an entire community of people work toward something better than just themselves. Imagine doing it even in small ways, imagine doing it without reward or compensation. It doesn't take any great organization or any program or leader or anything remotely complicated. It only requires each individual to see a need, and meet that need.

"The five third-graders from Wasatch Elementary who are having trouble learning the times tables don't need a legslative subcommitttee called to study educational outputs of seven hundred representative third graders in Arizona, New Jersey, and Nebraska. They need someone to sit down with them, just the five of them, and sing 'four times one is four, four times two is eight....' " (Chieko Okazaki, Cat's Cradle, Bookcraft, 1993, pg 37)

In the words of Leonardo Da Vinci, "Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."

Imagine what we could accomplish if we did the simplest thing: kigatsuku. See a need, meet a need.

Maybe the Best Kickball Game Ever

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.

Christmas Lights and Chuck Norris Jokes

So the first project is done. It was a relatively simple one. It involved rousting the troops out of bed at the untoward hour of 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning. There were more than a few grumblings and just a little begging and pleading for "Five more minutes, Mom!" but on the whole they were pretty happy to get up.

We piled in our van and headed north toward the Mesa Temple. Our mission: to help remove some of the thousands of Christmas lights that had adorned the grounds of the Mesa Temple for the holiday season. We love the lights; I don't think we've missed seeing them once for all of the eleven years we have lived here. So it really was a long overdue opportunity for us to help. We packed every coat, hat, scarf and mitten we could find. While we were driving there, Dave tapped the outdoor temperature reading on the van (34 degrees...which is like ten below for a group of Arizona residents) and shook his head. "Don't tell the kids," he sagely advised.

This is what I love about any kind of service: whatever frustration, hesitation, or trepidation you feel at the outset, it cannot compare to the pure happiness that fills you when you put aside whatever else you would rather be doing and engage in something that adds something, however small, positive to the world around you. Whatever grumblings existed in that early morning drive to Mesa dissolved little by little with every strand of lights we untangled. This was such a small and simple thing, but its amazing what wonderful opportunities come out of such simple acts.

Something I have already noticed about this project is that it has me thinking more about others and less about myself. Even in small ways. It also makes me pay attention to all of the service I already do; and is done for me in turn. Service is really an expression of love. It is living love.

On the way home, Dave and our oldest son swapped Chuck Norris jokes, and our six year old sang Elvis. The car was filled with laughter. Really? Because we took down some Christmas lights? No, it had to be just a little more than that.