My wrist and shoulder are both sore this evening after spending the morning scraping paint off house siding and before painting a fresh coat in a new color. Hands on Housing is a bi-annual event where volunteers come together and fix up homes of senior citizens and disabled individuals who are living in poverty. My workplace has been attending these events since 2015.
There is something uniquely gratifying about giving in a physical, tangible way. Giving labor and sweat and starting with one thing and ending with another. I first learned this on community service trips to El Salvador when I was in high school, spending days pounding dirt flat for a floor, carrying cinderblocks, and shoveling in the ninety-degree heat. My brother and I never took shifts painting, if we were here to give what we could we wanted to give. I hope it helped. I hope where I choose to spend my time matters. I hope I don’t fall into the white savior complex or I hope people call me out when I do and I hope I can learn to do better.
But I love the physicality of helping. And yes it soothes my ego and makes me feel useful and I still get to go back home to my cushy life . . . so I guess if I was sending an intention or a prayer out there I would ask for continued opportunities to give, for the humility to learn, and the power to support the voices and movements of systemic social change.
This morning I scraped and painting and stood on ladders and talked with coworkers and got a crick in my neck and I showed up and I’ll show up every time I can. It’s such a small thing.
With Love,
Natalie