On Service
Just before the holidays, I went and volunteered at Northwest Harvest, a Washington hunger relief agency. I did it as part of a team event that I organized. I'd never been there before, and what I really wanted to do was go build trails for the Mountains to Sound Greenway, but it was getting late in the year and a bunch of people didn't want to get wet or cold, so I called Northwest Harvest.
It was really satisfying.
First of all, it felt like doing something for a really worthy organization. The orientation that they give you at the beginning emphasizes the dignity of the people who will be getting this food, and the focus they put on the nutritional content of the food they provide. They said, "We want to provide them with food that we'd be happy to feed our own families." They also don't require you to show proof of desperation. They figure if you've humbled yourself to the point of asking for help for your family, they don't need to add to that. And it carries through into how they tell you to pack the food in the box so that the people getting it can see neatly organized packages and not a jumbled mess of cast-offs. They put a lot of thought and care into their mission.
Then there was the actual work itself. There are a bunch of different jobs that they have divided up in a sort of assembly line. My job was box packer. I took the sealed bags of oats, wrapped their tails around them (the ends tucked neatly underneath), and I packed them, 16 per box, and slid the box down to the sealers. It was extremely satisfying to the part of me that really enjoys alphabetizing books, making 4 neat little layers of 4 bags of oats in each box. Then the supervisor came around and told all of the boxers to pack 17 bags per box. I kept making my neat little boxes of 16 bags and then gnashing my teeth as I placed the 17th bag in.
Our shift ended when we ran out of oats. I wasn't ready for it to be over. Then the Boeing engineer from the table next door said, "Oh! I should just throw these bags into your box instead!" and then he TOSSED his oat bags into my neatly organized box, all helter skelter. I about had a tiny aneurism. Instead, I waited til no one was looking and then hurriedly took his bags out, re-wrapped them, and placed them NEATLY back into my box. Boeing guys. Hmph.
But I loved it, and I'd like to go back monthly. I think it's best with a group of 4 or so people you know, because the banter during the menial tasks was really fulfilling as well. Let me know if you'd like to join me.
It was really satisfying.
First of all, it felt like doing something for a really worthy organization. The orientation that they give you at the beginning emphasizes the dignity of the people who will be getting this food, and the focus they put on the nutritional content of the food they provide. They said, "We want to provide them with food that we'd be happy to feed our own families." They also don't require you to show proof of desperation. They figure if you've humbled yourself to the point of asking for help for your family, they don't need to add to that. And it carries through into how they tell you to pack the food in the box so that the people getting it can see neatly organized packages and not a jumbled mess of cast-offs. They put a lot of thought and care into their mission.
Then there was the actual work itself. There are a bunch of different jobs that they have divided up in a sort of assembly line. My job was box packer. I took the sealed bags of oats, wrapped their tails around them (the ends tucked neatly underneath), and I packed them, 16 per box, and slid the box down to the sealers. It was extremely satisfying to the part of me that really enjoys alphabetizing books, making 4 neat little layers of 4 bags of oats in each box. Then the supervisor came around and told all of the boxers to pack 17 bags per box. I kept making my neat little boxes of 16 bags and then gnashing my teeth as I placed the 17th bag in.
Our shift ended when we ran out of oats. I wasn't ready for it to be over. Then the Boeing engineer from the table next door said, "Oh! I should just throw these bags into your box instead!" and then he TOSSED his oat bags into my neatly organized box, all helter skelter. I about had a tiny aneurism. Instead, I waited til no one was looking and then hurriedly took his bags out, re-wrapped them, and placed them NEATLY back into my box. Boeing guys. Hmph.
But I loved it, and I'd like to go back monthly. I think it's best with a group of 4 or so people you know, because the banter during the menial tasks was really fulfilling as well. Let me know if you'd like to join me.