Transcriber: Sheree Murray Reviewer: Denise RQ
I'm here to talk about an important element of community service
that we tend to ignore.
So, what's the blank?
Well, the first element I thought of and maybe, the more conventional answer
to that question is the 'warm and fuzzy' factor.
You know, that human component of service
that makes you feel fulfilled, and warm and fuzzy inside.
HAAH has certainly shown me the importance of that.
We participate
in night time distributions of food, clothing, and toiletries
called Midnight Runs;
and while these runs serve a real need in the homeless community,
what is equally important about them
is the sense of respect and affection they build
between the housed and the homeless.
And the Midnight Run organization emphasizes that.
They encourage us to keep group sizes small,
and as we go around the city in our vans,
they leave time in our schedule
so we can linger a little bit at each stop.
And as a result, each run has its own elements of humanity.
On one, a poet read us his poetry.
On another, a trained opera singer led us in singing Christmas songs.
A man living in a shelter showed his latest accomplishment,
he'd set up an email address.
A group of Hispanic laborers encouraged us to see the world.
A woman who had been robbed of her belongings while asleep on the streets
still thanked us profusely and waved goodbye as we drove away.
These moments that HAAH shares with the homeless and the conversations we have
are just as important
as any one bagged meal or pair of pants that we can give them.
And they're important for the volunteers, too.
Nothing encourages me more to keep doing what I am doing
than seeing the look on someone's face when I hand them the right pair of pants,
or being thanked by one particularly effusive man,
for having thought of absolutely everything.
And it's not just me.
I'll never forget one freshman, skipping back to the van after her first run,
smiling and exclaiming, "Helping people makes me so happy."
Because that is what the warm and fuzzy factor does.
It makes people feel happy. It makes them feel fulfilled.
And when they're done,
it makes them want to come back and do it again.
So, what could be more important than that?
That's right: awkwardness.
Does having a picture of a pad appear, make anyone feel a bit uncomfortable?
Yeah ... Well, feeling uncomfortable can be just as important as feeling fulfilled.
Service isn't always going to be warm, fuzzy, and fulfilling.
It can be intensely awkward.
But if we let those uncomfortable moments sink in,
they can be great motivators, too.
I think a lot of the people that have talked today
have already given great examples of that, and I am going to add my own,
and this is also a story
that will explain why I chose to put a pad up in front of all of you.
One of the first rules they teach on Midnight Runs is the rule of equity.
You can't give someone extra
just because they are particularly sweet or insistent,
or claim they have a friend waiting around the corner.
Because what seems like generosity, at that point,
could turn into somebody at a later stop going to sleep without socks on.
That rule is going through my head
as we pull up alongside the church at a little past midnight.
Most people were alseep, so we called out, "Midnight Run"
and walked over.
Leaving bagged meals next to men asleep in their boxes,
and bringing back clothing from the van
for those who poked their heads out with requests.
And then there was the woman sitting on the steps.
We gave her a bagged meal, basic clothing, some toiletries.
She looked at the single pad in our toiletries bag
and asked if we had any extra.
She was having her period.
So I went back over to the van,
pulled out the bag of six or so extras tucked under the seat.
And was about to go over to her, when that rule kicked in.
It was our last stop that night. It was an extraordinary circumstance.
And as that woman looked on,
I put half of the pads back in the van and walked over to her.
"Here you go," I said, giving her the remaining three.
"Have a good night."
But driving back to school with our extra supplies,
I suddenly didn't feel good; I deprived a woman of pads she needed.
And turned what is normally a satisfying and respectful exchange
into one that just felt begrudging.
But from then on, when I thought of that run,
I didn't think of the conversations we had or the people we had helped,
instead, I just saw that woman's face,
And kicked myself really hard.
But over time, because I didn't avoid that sense of shame, I learnt from it.
I realized I needed to be
more compassionate and less fixated on the rules,
if I wanted genuinely to make a difference in people's nights.
As I thought about awkward moments on the Midnight Runs,
I realized they are more common than I sometimes expect.
Yes, runs are overwhelming positive and safe experiences,
but some people show up understandably aggravated,
especially if they have a long line to wait on.
And there is always the one man who keeps insistently demanding, say,
his pair of long underwear, when we've already given it to him,
and there are people waiting behind.
But instead of pushing
these dissatisfied people and uncomfortable moments
to the backs of our minds,
so we can focus on singing Christmas songs,
we need to remember them, and act on them.
Because they're reminders
that Midnight Runs aren't permanent solutions,
they aren't intended to be permanent solutions.
Instead, they forge the bonds
that encourage us to build those solutions,
and if we only focus on how fulfilled we feel,
we will never get to addressing those underlying issues.
And, ultimately, that's why being open
to these memorable, uncomfortable, awkward moments is so important.
Because, yes, the warm and fuzzy factor is a great motivator,
but it motivates us to keep doing what we are doing.
It takes a truly awkward moment to make us think.
(Applause)