TeenlinkSouthFlorida.com
Four and a half hours can make a difference.
A few weeks ago, I signed up to volunteer from 8:30am to 1pm at the Caring Kitchen, Delray Beach's local soup kitchen.
I knew I was in for an experience, but I had no idea how much meaning the occasion would bring.
The Caring Kitchen is by far one of the warmest, most welcoming places I've ever visited. I've worked there a few times before, but I hadn't been back in the past two years - and still, many of the daily volunteers recognized me.
Upon my arrival, I was almost immediately put to work skinning, slicing and dicing an estimated three crates (fifty or sixty...) papayas, cantaloupes, and honeydew. Labor-intensive, yes, and I'm sure I was nearing the fine line between sore and carpal-tunnel syndrome, but my table had such an absurd competition going, all complaints were kept far, far at the back of my mind.
After presenting the bins of chopped fruit to the serving crew, I headed over to the dessert table, where two friends and I would be offering huge, beautiful platters of cookies and cake (generously donated by Publix, if I may add!). Sadly, the glory and power of the dessert table was soon overtaken by a need for a green beans server, a position I quickly snatched up.
The hot foods counter was more intense than I would've imagined. The meal included baked beans, two hot dogs, my fabulous green beans, a scoop of fruit and some bread, and the system worked via a process defined by the phrase "conveyor belt." The five of us working this counter had to be totally in sync... and we often weren't. The poor hot dog girl was forced to reject my awkward gesturing at least ten times, as she hadn't even scooped out the meat and I was already hurrying her.
The most rewarding part of the experience, though, was of course the feeling of making some small difference in someone's day. Many of the people passing through the line took six, eight, ten meals to bring back to their families, wherever they're living - I can't even imagine the strength they must possess. As much as I might try to be the token snarky cynic, spending time with the incredibly gracious, loving people who stopped by the Caring Kitchen for a meal proved to be enough to melt my already-mushy heart into a bit more mush.
Four and a half hours, and I feel as if I've made an impact, small as it may be. We're teenagers, and we may get caught up in our own personal-circle bubbles, but there's a big planet out there, and we really are the ones who can change it. So if you have a spare half day, get out to the Caring Kitchen. Or any soup kitchen in your area - you'll have fun, your sore wrists will be a prized battle wound, and best of all, you'll never forget the feeling of making a difference, one person at a time.
I knew I was in for an experience, but I had no idea how much meaning the occasion would bring.
The Caring Kitchen is by far one of the warmest, most welcoming places I've ever visited. I've worked there a few times before, but I hadn't been back in the past two years - and still, many of the daily volunteers recognized me.
Upon my arrival, I was almost immediately put to work skinning, slicing and dicing an estimated three crates (fifty or sixty...) papayas, cantaloupes, and honeydew. Labor-intensive, yes, and I'm sure I was nearing the fine line between sore and carpal-tunnel syndrome, but my table had such an absurd competition going, all complaints were kept far, far at the back of my mind.
After presenting the bins of chopped fruit to the serving crew, I headed over to the dessert table, where two friends and I would be offering huge, beautiful platters of cookies and cake (generously donated by Publix, if I may add!). Sadly, the glory and power of the dessert table was soon overtaken by a need for a green beans server, a position I quickly snatched up.
The hot foods counter was more intense than I would've imagined. The meal included baked beans, two hot dogs, my fabulous green beans, a scoop of fruit and some bread, and the system worked via a process defined by the phrase "conveyor belt." The five of us working this counter had to be totally in sync... and we often weren't. The poor hot dog girl was forced to reject my awkward gesturing at least ten times, as she hadn't even scooped out the meat and I was already hurrying her.
The most rewarding part of the experience, though, was of course the feeling of making some small difference in someone's day. Many of the people passing through the line took six, eight, ten meals to bring back to their families, wherever they're living - I can't even imagine the strength they must possess. As much as I might try to be the token snarky cynic, spending time with the incredibly gracious, loving people who stopped by the Caring Kitchen for a meal proved to be enough to melt my already-mushy heart into a bit more mush.
Four and a half hours, and I feel as if I've made an impact, small as it may be. We're teenagers, and we may get caught up in our own personal-circle bubbles, but there's a big planet out there, and we really are the ones who can change it. So if you have a spare half day, get out to the Caring Kitchen. Or any soup kitchen in your area - you'll have fun, your sore wrists will be a prized battle wound, and best of all, you'll never forget the feeling of making a difference, one person at a time.
Comment
About
© 2010 Created by teenlink south florida.
Powered by 
.
You need to be a member of Teenlink to add comments!
Join Teenlink