About a
month ago at my mothers' group, I expressed the sense of sadness and
helplessness I feel when thinking of individuals in need. More specifically, now that I am a parent, I
have this all-encompassing ache for parents struggling to provide a safe and
warm home for their children. And then
there are the children hoping for a Christmas or Hanukkah filled with lights,
presents, and for their parents to be relaxed and free of worry.
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| Aimee and her daughter |
The next
morning our discussion was followed up with a private message about Holly House
and the event on December 14th. The
instant flow of excuses began to build in my head- I'm so busy, I should be at
work instead, I should be home with my family, I should be Christmas shopping...
and that did it. The fact that I could
go buy presents without a second thought was a reality check on how I could
better spend my time. I signed up
immediately before I could change my mind.
Holly
House For Kids 2014. I would like to
begin by acknowledging that I was ignorant about how many families in our area
need our help. After parking several
blocks away due to a clog of cars in the parking lot, I assumed that it was
from the dozens and dozens of volunteers arriving for their 2 pm start. I was wrong.
The handful of 2 pm volunteers were far outnumbered by the hundreds of
guests in line to collect much needed items for their families.
The
volunteer sign in leader was an eleven year old girl. She would quickly become my greatest
inspiration of the day. After helping me
get suited up with a name tag, she sent me on my way to get some training from
Pam or Monty. Unable to find them in my
first sweep, the girl suggested I just get to work.
And so I
did. Coffee spill clean up and an
overflowing garbage can quickly got me promoted to unpacking stuffed
animals. From there, I was able to
personally assist a woman on crutches (having to wait a very long time for a
much needed surgery) who was shopping for her four children. At that moment, I thought this person had the
hardest time of anyone there that day.
And then I met the next person.
And the next person.
After an
hour or so, I landed what I considered to be the best position on the
floor. I became the gatekeeper, the
person who called in the guests from the waiting area (which sadly resembled
the line at the DMV- long wait and too bright fluorescent lights) and
introduced them to the shopping area.
While I took tremendous joy in calling the guests in by number, it was
agony making every other person wait for their turn.
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Aimee's "greatest inspiration of the day"
11 year old Jessie |
This is
where the 11 year old girl came in.
After a few rounds of calling out numbers, "16, 17, 18!" with
an apologetic look to the rest of the crowd, this young woman vacated her sign
in post (only after checking to make sure her station was tidied up), and
informed me that I needed to improve my delivery.
"They
can't hear you, who taught you to yell?"
I stared
at her blankly.
"I'll
call out the numbers," she announced.
And so
she did, along with another excited friend.
The guests started smiling as she pranced around by the white board,
announcing the numbers with delight.
After a few rounds, she took over writing the numbers on the board,
telling me to focus on my job on the other side of the wall.
Within
the hour guests were jumping up at the sound of their number. Several people yelled "bingo!"
which made the whole crowd relax a little and smile. Others did a little dance, shook their yellow
shopping slips in the air, or were cheered on by friends and family. When I led these now smiling faces through
the door into the shopping area, most lit up like children walking into the
famous over the top toy store, FAO Schwartz.
At some
point I stopped being nervous. I stopped
caring that I had worn a sweater that made me look like a little too fancy, and
that I rambled when I taught the guests how to use their yellow sheets, or that
I had eaten candy and nothing else for lunch.
I was helping people, and it was fun.
Over the
course of the evening, hundreds of parents, some carrying babes on their chests
or in their bellies, made the pilgrimage through Holly House For Kids. One pregnant woman was scheduled to deliver
her baby daughter on Wednesday via cesarean.
She treated the afternoon of waiting like a last minute spa day away
from her kids at home, entertaining guests and volunteers alike.
The
fallout. I sobbed so hard on the drive
home that I had to pull over. I kicked
myself for leaving before the last guest had walked through, and for not
figuring out a way to help them more.
For the pregnant woman I wanted to bring diapers to her house and fuzzy
slippers for her to wear in recovery at the hospital, maybe some chicken pot
pie for her kids to eat while mom recovered.
I thought of my own c-section this year and all of the free help I had
to care for this tiny single baby while I healed. And I thought about if my family were to fall
on hard times, would people be kind and generous enough to help my daughter
have warm shoes and a sparkly gift to open on Christmas?
To the
11 year old girl. Thank you for teaching
me that people who are in a serious struggle don't necessarily want to be met
with more seriousness. Part of what
Holly House For Kids does is create an event that fulfills needs but also
treats the guests like regular people. I
had been calling folks in like a robot - my only focus had been to make sure
that they heard this bullet point list of information. But the real impact, what made people smile
more than finding that perfect toy or book for their child, was breaking down
the barrier between those helping and those being helped.
~ Aimee, first time volunteer at Holly House
