by Sarah Straczek

“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give” – Winston Churchill.

With each day that passes, I am reminded by life itself of how blessed we all are in this vast and infinite world of possibilities. To add to that as well, one of the most important things I have come to learn so far is how crucial it is to give back to humanity as a whole. More recently, and through a year of AmeriCorps volunteer work, my admiration toward the idea of service and sacrifice has grown larger than ever. I strongly believe that not only does community service work support and encourage the surrounding community alone, but also has a lasting and positive influence on the volunteers themselves. I have come to be a testament to this ideal.

Throughout most of my life I have neglected to immerse myself in the universe of “willful volunteering.” Being a small, blonde, white, and privileged girl growing up in southern Florida, it was easy to believe that service work is nothing but tedious, unpaid, and boring, especially when all that most youth wants to do is participate in activities such as sports and hanging out with their friends. I was an ignorant party girl, the girl that when opportunities arose through school to give back, most of work done seemed forced and unwanted in my opinion. Very few people I knew in my earlier days, happily and actively involved themselves in events for a better cause. Nonetheless, spending any time whatsoever trying to understand that there are bigger issues in this world than the issues of their own was a waste of time. I blindly followed those crowds of ignorance. Until I allowed myself to extend the limits of my comfort zone and erase all previous assumptions of service in general, to remold, I had absolutely no idea the amount amazing experiences and people I was missing out on. I am here to share with you a little bit of my journey of growth over this past year in hopes that it sparks a volunteer within each of you as well.

The year started off in Sacramento, California. Sacramento is the home to one of the five main field-training bases throughout the United States. Twelve complete strangers from around the country, including myself, all sat awkwardly in a claustrophobic room trying to get to know one another. This was my team. These were my strangers. These were my future life-long friends and family. We were all gathered by chance and, at the time, had no idea if it was a blessing or a curse. Annie from California, Larsen from New York, Randy from Maine, Devon from South Carolina, Meredith from Maryland, George from Texas, Marianne from Georgia, Nick from Colorado, Laurel, Meg, and Dylan from Arizona, and myself… from Florida. With one team leader and eleven members of all different shapes, sizes, colors, backgrounds, beliefs, and personalities, we were set to travel the west coast on a mission to bring aid to whichever community the government would assign over the period of the next year. We were a dorky group to say the very least, each of us trying to lighten the mood within every situation through corny jokes and little teases. Laurel always being the first to start laughing without end. My group trained for three weeks on the dull colored, uninspiring “campus,” all in preparation for what may come. We all worked harder than we ever had. No one truly knew what the program held for our future and no one really cared to ask due to the excitement of heading out for adventure. We had eachother, and by the end of that three week period, that was enough. Devon, our team leader, constantly spoke about how much each of our strengths will matter in combination with everyone else’s, providing a sense of purpose for our unity. She held onto positivity and never let it go, rubbing off on each of us… especially Annie. It was interesting to see how much she grew as a leader through even this little portion of time. I was impressed. Post training, we anxiously awaited our first project deployment. I had no idea if I was even ready to be sent out into the field, but at this point I had no choice. With the support of my new found group of trusted colleagues, I went into the project head first and with every bit of confidence that I could find from within myself. “As long as we put our best efforts forward, there is not much that could go wrong,” Marianne preached. My life was about to do a complete three-hundred and sixty-degree turn around, and I didn’t even know it yet.

The long and dreadful drive to Baton Rouge, Louisiana took my team five days to complete from Sacramento. All of us were squeezed into a filthy, fifteen-person gold death-trap of a van, complemented with a dancing hula girl on our dash and tools scattered around the floor. The obnoxious, ear-ringing sound of George’s snoring was a constant reminder of the torture we were all just beginning to endure. Not to mention the gallons of drool falling from his mouth, disgusting the group and quite literally making Nick gag. He was weak-stomached, however, and that became more of a joke than anything, uplifting spirits with humor. Ten long hours a day was our governmental limit with an obligation to switch drivers every two. Our pet peeves and true habits were already starting to show. The governmental task at hand would most definitely not be our only battle.

As we rolled in to town, it was beyond obvious that tragedy filled the air that we breathed. Debris filled the streets and not a single home on any block was without severe damage, most without roofs, windows, or entire structured sides. Larsen, being the sensitive soul he is, shed a tear in reflection for all the community seemed to be going through. He sparked raw emotion within us all. My team was headed to a military base for our living arrangements at the time. In fact, the base had also been a hospital for those infected with Lupus back in the day. The thought gave the environment an even more eerie feel and excited Meredith to an infinite extent with her brainy personality and degree in history from Smith College.

Upon arrival I was informed that the Baton Rouge had undergone an unfortunate and devastating flood, wiping out and affecting more than sixty thousand homes. Weirdly enough, this had not been televised by any larger media sources and was almost a non-existent occurrence to anyone outside of the state. Working as the AmeriCorps Disaster Response Team and alongside the Washington Conservation Corps, fifty of my selfless peer volunteers slapped on thin fluorescent Tyvek protective suits and chokingly tight breathing respirators to tear down homes as well as scrub out and chemically eliminate the continuous growth of toxic black mold. I was proud to be serving, proud to be a helping hand, proud to put my own interests aside for the betterment of a community at large. I was also exhausted. Days starting at six in the morning consisted of moving from home to home, taking out walls, bathtubs, cabinetry, debris, and appliances of all kinds. Each day was a massive workout while basically suited in a winter jacket while temperatures reached above eighty in non-air conditioned homes. Pools of sweat would waterfall out at any chance one had to remove the tyvek in a controlled and safe non contamination zone. My team never lost faith, however. Randy, the most athletic of us all would lead the ‘clean-ups’ and always have words of influential encouragement at his disposal. Things that were guaranteed to give us the push we needed to go on. Each of us felt beyond grateful for the support and would write complimentary notes for each other’s efforts at the end of each day. We called them ‘sunshine moments,’ and quite frankly those moment are the ones I look back on and cherish the most. The moments of hope. The moments of gratefulness.

The majority of homes in this poverty struck area were still being used and lived in regardless of the damage, causing illness and absolute fear within the community at large. Walking into someone’s home while completely suited up, respirator and all, was never easy for the homeowner nor volunteer due to the realization of how serious these matters can be and the lack of ability in changing the circumstance. At the end of each day, every person in the field was required to shower outdoors to make sure that no harsh chemical or vicious mold was brought back into our living arrangements. Each night we all had to sleep with the fact that thousands were currently contaminated outside the safety of our base walls, and there was little or nothing to do about saving them in that area. My team had a hard time with this, taking most nights to be together in reflection, analyzation, and remorse for those affected and what our efforts contributed in. Larsen lead most of these talks, he was always so in-tune with the group’s emotions and how each of us were handling things separately. Hearing the heartbreaking stories of loss and utter hopelessness from the victims and survivors will forever in my mind be the hardest part of the job itself, no matter how physically and mentally exhausting the labor was in the humid south throughout those seven weeks.

One individual who comes to mind specifically is a woman by the name of Donna Laufengold. Donna was a hoarder who had to overcome her illness in times of deep struggle where she had no choice but to lose everything. Her strength shone through any weaknesses in the time I got to know her. Very few individuals had any sort of possessions left to their name either. It was one thing to not want to give up one’s home, but another to try and salvage soiled furniture, food, or simple luxuries such as mattresses. Clean clothes were a rarity. Examples like these truly put things into perspective between what is important vs not, what is a necessity vs a want, and how one’s life can be completely turned upside down in a matter of seconds. The morale of those who had been hit the hardest, though, seemed to be the highest. The community banded together in solidarity over the fact that as one, they are strongest. Charlie, a man who I do not know the last name of, was one of the community leaders I had the pleasure of getting to know. His smile was constant, his optimism never faltering, his energy contagious. With support, he taught me, you can achieve and get through anything you set your mind to. He not only preached but proved that and challenged others to see the world through his eyes. Staying and working in Baton Rouge gave me a glimpse at what it was like to lose everything and keep your head up in belief that days go on and things get better. The “term” served there showed me that even the most horrible of circumstances have a glimmering light at the end of the tunnel, and as-long-as there is someone willing to lend a helping hand, there is, in fact, hope.

When we finished our short “term,” in that city alone, my first genuine realization occurred on how our combined smaller efforts can ultimately make all the difference in the world. I was taught by experience, my team, and myself, that it does not matter how insignificant you think your effort may be… as long-as there is effort being brought out. I felt myself changing, and was able to see that change even physically with the way I held myself. Tall and strong, confident and brave. Empathetic and understanding. Most importantly, I left Louisiana with the knowledge that with each life I touch, I have the ability to make positive and measurable change. With each new circumstance comes an opportunity to do something great for someone else, and that the needs of the many don’t always outweigh the needs of the few. This experience illuminated a passionate part of myself I had no idea had the possibility of existing. My team helped sculpt this part of me, and I have a piece of each of them within my heart and being. Devon’s leadership, Marianne’s optimism, Dylan’s goofiness, George’s strength, Laurel’s sense of humor, Meg’s kindness, Annie’s loyalty, Randy’s willpower, Nick’s adaptability, Meredith’s intelligence, and Larsen’s sensitivity.

All in all, service has shown to have an extremely unique way of changing lives. Each member on my team looks back and sees themselves as a better version than before. We all have a certain ‘glow’ within our smiles, one that a fellow volunteer can easily recognize. This ‘energy’ is what brings us together, what unifies us with our experiences and growth. Whether you’re on the side of volunteerism or within the community that’s being assisted, the efforts made and relationships formed while positively putting your footprint on society are unlike anything in the world. Take the first step, and I guarantee you will never look back. I never did.