“Can the kids have some candy?”
“Can they have this?”
“Is it okay for the kids to grab a sucker?”
I snap back to reality, realizing a volunteer at the food pantry has been talking to me. Although I heard him, my mind was elsewhere.
“Oh gosh,” I chuckle nervously. “I’m sorry, I was a bit lost in thought. What did you say?”
“Is it alright if I give the kids a sucker?” he repeats. I glance down to see two pairs of eager brown eyes looking up at me, anticipation etched on their faces.
After a quick check of the ingredient list for gluten and dairy, I manage to respond, “Um, yeah sure, that’s fine, thanks,” hoping my voice conveys gratitude while hiding my embarrassment.
It’s a bright Saturday morning, and I find myself standing in line at the very food pantry I used to volunteer at years ago. Now, following the departure of my husband, I’m not here as a helper but as someone in need, praying they don’t run out of diapers before it’s my turn. I’m no longer the volunteer; I’m someone else entirely.
Three years ago, I would have never envisioned this scenario. I had spent my life giving back—working at the food pantry, volunteering at animal shelters, teaching Sunday School, and attending countless missions trips. Helping others was my purpose; it felt right.
But now, after a tumultuous marriage and my husband’s abandonment, I’ve become a recipient of the kindness I once extended. I feel different. Some days, I hardly recognize myself.
If I thought volunteering was challenging, being on the receiving end has proven to be an entirely different experience. The fulfillment that comes from helping others vanishes when you find yourself in need.
Today, I feel anything but worthwhile. I feel burdensome, a failure. I know this is a temporary situation. I’m fighting diligently for a better life for my children and me. I understand that accepting help is a lesson in humility, but today, I feel defeated.
Standing in line at the food pantry, I’m reminded that I can only offer my children the best I can today. The best I can do now is drag their sleepy selves out of bed at dawn and seek assistance.
Once, I was part of the team that made a difference. Today, I am just a mother trying to care for the two most important people in my life. When we finally reach the front of the line, I’m relieved to find they still have diapers. We gather our food box, toiletries, and diapers, and as I strap the kids into their car seats, their faces light up with joy.
“Thanks, Mommy! Thanks for letting us have a sucker!”
Their innocent excitement pierces my heart. I used to be on the other side, the volunteer; now my reality is starkly different.
Uncertainty looms over my future. I don’t know how to move forward, but I know I need support to give my children the life they deserve. Looking into their eyes, I realize that volunteering has taken on a fresh meaning for me. Volunteers selflessly give to help others, and I’m ready to do the same for my kids. I will lay down my pride and do whatever it takes to ensure they are cared for.
Maybe I’m not so different after all.
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In summary, life can take unexpected turns, and the journey from volunteer to recipient can be humbling. Yet, through challenges, the love for our children can inspire us to accept help and ultimately strive to give back.
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