“Can the kids have some candy?”
“Is it okay for them to have this?”
“Excuse me, can they have a sucker?”
I blink back to reality, realizing that a volunteer at the food pantry has been trying to get my attention. My mind had been drifting elsewhere. “Oh gosh,” I chuckle awkwardly. “Sorry, I zoned out. What was that?”
“Is it alright if I give the kids a sucker?” he asks again. I glance down at my two little ones, their eager brown eyes wide with anticipation. After a quick scan of the ingredient list—because who wants a gluten or dairy mishap?—I mumble, “Um, yeah sure, that’s fine, thanks,” hoping my tone conveys gratitude while masking the embarrassment bubbling inside me.
It’s a sunny Saturday morning, and as I stand in line at the food pantry—once a place I proudly volunteered at years ago—I can’t help but feel a shift in my role. After my husband’s sudden departure, I’m no longer here to lend a helping hand; instead, I’m anxiously hoping they don’t run out of diapers before it’s my turn. I’m not the volunteer anymore. I’m different now.
Three years ago, I couldn’t have pictured this scenario. I had always been the one giving back—whether at the food pantry, animal shelter, teaching Sunday School, or helping at special education summer camps. I thrived on the fulfillment that came from helping others. Now, after a tumultuous marriage and the pain of abandonment, I find myself on the receiving end of someone else’s generosity.
The weight of this new reality is crushing. If I ever thought volunteering was challenging, being the one in need is a whole different struggle. That uplifting feeling of making a difference evaporates when you find yourself relying on others.
Today, I feel less than worthy. I feel like a burden and a failure. I know this situation is temporary. I’m fighting hard for a better future for myself and my kids. I recognize that accepting help is a lesson in humility, but today, I feel utterly defeated.
Standing in line at the food pantry, this is the best I can do for my kids. Dragging them out of their cozy beds at dawn and showing up for assistance is my way of caring for them. I used to be one of the volunteers, helping others, but now I’m just a mom doing her best for the two people who mean the world to me.
When we finally reach the front of the line, I’m relieved to find they still have diapers. We gather our box of food, toiletries, and diapers and head back to the car. As I buckle them into their seats, their faces light up with joy.
“Thanks, Mommy! Thanks for letting us have a sucker!”
Their innocence pierces my heart. I used to be on the other side, but now, I’m not that person anymore.
I’m uncertain about what comes next. I don’t know how to move forward from here, but one thing is clear: I need the help. I need it to be able to give back to my kids, who look at me with unwavering love and admiration.
Looking into their eyes, I realize that the essence of volunteerism has taken on a new meaning for me. Volunteers are those who selflessly give to help others. Yes, my sweet little ones, I will give everything I can for you. I’ll set aside my pride and do whatever it takes to ensure you’re cared for.
Maybe I’m not so different after all.
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In summary, sometimes life takes unexpected turns that challenge our sense of self-worth, but it’s important to remember that asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. We may find new ways to serve and care for those we love, even when the circumstances seem daunting.