Day of (Almost In)Action

Who knew it would be so difficult to find an opportunity to do some good?

Saturday, September 27, 2008 was the national Day of Action. It is a day to highlight community service and volunteerism as change agents in our nation (legislatively as well as on the community level). A friend mentioned that his church helps paint over graffiti in the Kalihi area. I thought this would be a great project for a few friends – get together in the morning and paint over graffiti.

Well, we arrive somewhat bright-eyed and quasi bushy-tailed, ready to paint our little hearts out. But what do we find? Actually it is what we did not find that was the problem. No graffiti! It would have taken longer to open the paint than to cover the small patch of graffiti. Now please, do not get me wrong. It is wonderful that there was very little graffiti there. It’s just that now we had to think of something else to do.

As we stood around and forced our brains to find another idea, it was suggested that we go deep into Kalihi Valley (Kokua Kalihi Valley) where they plant and care for native species. We drove up there and I must say, I had an attack of the girly-girl attitude and winced at the ankle-deep mud and plethora of thirsty mosquitoes that were immediately attracted to me. My friend looked at me, one eyebrow raised in silent question. I wrinkled my nose and answered, “I think they have enough people to help here. Let’s do something else.”

But what would that something else be?

Then, two other friends unexpectedly join us and we prove that four brains are better than one as we finally decide to pick up rubbish at a nearby park. We drive there only to find a bustling Farmer’s Market, no parking and a clean park. At this point, I am beginning to feel a bit thwarted and my earlier enthusiasm begins to flag after facing no graffiti, mud, mosquitoes and a clean park. My friend half-jokingly suggests we shop at the Farmer’s market to support our local growers. I think that’s a great idea, but we determinedly trudge on (as well as one can “determinedly trudge” while in a car) to find another park that may need our services.

We drive to Lanakila Park . . . and there is a softball game being played. I am about to cry to the Heavens when my friend says there is a park above the softball field and a school. The four of us grab our industrial-sized trash bags and set off in search of unsightly garbage. At first there is very little garbage, which gives us an opportunity to talk and catch up with one another. Then, as we get to the elementary school, there is a fence. The stopper and catcher of all blowing garbage. At last, some real work to be done!

As we fill our trash bags, I tell myself that I should have brought some gloves (because rubbish can be icky) and I definitely should have tied my hair back, as it kept blowing in my face, impeding my ability to spot more garbage as well as holes in the ground I tried to avoid stepping in. I begin to notice how the gentle warmth of the sun has slowly become a laser beam of intense heat as my brow literally sweats. I am a bit ashamed to realize that I would not have survived a generation ago in the plantation fields, as the repetitive bending to pick up rubbish causes some twinges in my back. I am a weak, soft product of the couch potato generation. Yet, my compatriots seem fine and I realize that it is just me who is having difficulty.

We cross the street to the Lanakila Health Center where free TB tests and other services are provided by the Department of Health. The parking lot and surrounding area is a cornucopia of garbage. Our trash bags runneth over. Well, not quite. But they did get quite heavy.

There is immediate satisfaction in picking up rubbish. An area that looked disheveled, messy and neglected is suddenly “clean” and free of debris. Just looking at the expanse of grass or parking lot clear of garbage lets you know that you accomplished something.

In addition, a nice woman walking by thanked us for picking up rubbish in her neighborhood. She said that sometimes the area looks terrible and that she appreciated our efforts. I looked up, wiped the sweat falling into my eyes, and smiled at her in thanks. We did not do this for acknowledgement, but it was nice just the same.

So, was it really so difficult to find something good to do? Not really. If we actively look for opportunities, they will “suddenly appear.” If we pay attention to the needs around us…the needs of our environment, the needs of our family and friends, the needs of our neighbors…there are so many opportunities for us to serve. In small ways and large ways and in-between ways. We just need to open our eyes and see with our hearts. I realize I am channeling a little Dr. Seuss here, but who better to illustrate that child-like wonder and experience those warm, fuzzy feelings?

Day of Action. I like that. Not only realizing that there is a need and that we may have the resources to address (at least a part) of that need, but taking the next step. Action. To recognize a need is insufficient in itself. It’s a first step, and first steps are important. But we need to go beyond that. To act. In love, in humility and wholeheartedly. I have a modest proposal: how about a Life of Action? How truly transforming and wonderful that would be!

“Of course, this means I would have to start with me,” she thought warily and not without some apprehension. *Sigh* “I guess my couch potato days are numbered.”

Volunteering (kicking and screaming)

About ten years ago, my entire immediate family (parents, siblings and their spouses and kids) vacationed in California. There were 13 of us all together. One of the stops, of course, was Disneyland. My nieces and nephews were ages 3 through 13 years old at the time. It was a great trip, but by the end of the two weeks, I think we were all ready to come home...to our separate homes. There definitely is such a thing as too much family togetherness. We all had about reached our limits (some of us exceeded our limits, but not in any irreparable way, as we all still choose to be in each other's presence).

Anyway, I bring this up because at the time, my sister's youngest boy was 8. She wanted to take him on the Matterhorn (a roller coaster-ish ride), which looked pretty scary to his 8 year old eyes. She told him, "you'll have fun...you'll like it." To which he replied, "Noooooooo, Mommy, pleeeeaaaassseee! Don't make me gooooooo!" as he cried and tried to dig his little sneakered feet in while my sister was dragging him by his arm to stand in line.

At this point we were attracting some attention from the other visitors to the "happiest place on earth" (aka the most heavily sugared place on earth). Back then, I cared more about what people thought than I do now and was noticing them noticing our little scene. But more importantly, I seriously thought she was going to psychologically scar this poor kid for life. He really seemed freaked out about it all.

I ask my sister if she really thinks it is worth it to drag him on this ride when it will probably result in a huge expense for her down the road when she has to pay for his therapy bills. She seems blithely unconcerned and continues dragging her son (who is literally crying and begging as only an 8 year old in full dramatic mode can) to stand in line for the Matterhorn. I make another attempt upon my poor nephew's behalf and my sister throws over her shoulder, "Don't worry. He'll love it once he tries it."

Skeptical, I stand in line with them (my nephew has been reduced to whimpering at this point, since he realized volume was not getting him anywhere, so he, as most children, quickly learned to cut his losses and try another tact). I forgot who I sat next to (probably not my brother, since he complains my screaming makes him lose his upper decibel hearing), but my sister sat next to my nephew. I hear them screaming and laughing through the ride. Once we get to the end, my nephew (whom I have been championing), looks at my sister and says, "Mommy! Can we go again?" My sister give me that vastly smug, superior look that only an older sister can give her younger sister and says, "See?"

Now why did I share this slightly entertaining yet seemingly meaningless anecdote? Because this week I had my volunteer work and I did not want to go. It is only a couple of hours each month and I often find myself hunting for excuses not to go. I am performing the same acts my nephew did, but just in my own mind.

And I don't know why. Because once I get there, I am totally into it, have a great time and at the end am glad that I went. I know this from prior experience. Yet for some bizarre reason, each month when I am scheduled to be there, I feel an illness coming on / am extremely tired / need to stay late at the office / am supposed to meet a friend / etc.

I recently had a conversation with a co-worker who volunteers once a week to help adults learn to read. She said she has the same problem. She has to drag herself to the session, but once she is there, it is a great experience and she is glad she did it. Plus, she has a great relationship with the person she tutors.

At least my nephew had a good excuse. He did not know how much fun he was going to have on the Matterhorn. A few hours each month to help out a worthy program is very little. Why am I so reluctant when I probably get more out of being there and interacting with the kids than they do? Perhaps the obvious answer is that I am selfish. But is it that simple? Perhaps it is.