volunteerplaintalk

Category: why should I volunteer

  • Interview With A Volunteer: Ellie

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    We all know volunteer feedback is invaluable, during and after projects and assignments. There is also value in gathering feedback from former volunteers who have had the time to process their experiences and take aways.

    Recently I was able to catch up with a retired volunteer, Ellie, and I asked her to look back on her years of volunteering for a hospice.

    VolunteerPlainTalk (VPT): How many years did you volunteer?

    Ellie (E): (laughs) “oh about 18.”

    VPT: That’s a long time.

    E: It was a long time, but it was good.

    VPT: What was your favorite part of volunteering?

    E: Hmmm, my favorite part. I liked the idea of giving and I always felt that I was receiving so much in return, but I guess you hear that a lot.

    VPT: Do you remember the beginning?

    E: Yes. I remember my training. At the end of training, the volunteer trainer handed me my first assignment. She told me that she believed I was ready. And she took me over to the window and pointed to the house of the person I was assigned to. She sort of let me know that it wasn’t far away and I would be close to help if I needed it.

    VPT: How did that go?

    E: I was nervous, but I felt prepared.

    VPT: Was your first assignment the impetus that kept you going?

    E: Actually, it was my first long-term patient, who came right after. We became incredibly close. Before she passed away, she said that she had added one more daughter to her family. And shortly before she died, she called me in and said that she needed to know that I was going to be ok. The extent of our connection was something I never expected.

    VPT: How much of a role did your volunteer manager play in your success?

    E: Oh my goodness, so much. The fact that my trainer and my supervisor, Jim trusted me, had faith that I could do this was huge. And, I always felt that if I had a question, he would be there. I remember I was sitting with one patient whose wife had a part-time job. He had a morphine drip and he thought it wasn’t working and he said to me, I don’t understand why this is not working, can you find out? Now, I have no medical knowledge at all, but I immediately got on the phone and my supervisor got me to the right person. That went a long way to building my self-confidence.

    VPT: So, having someone to contact was hugely important.

    E: Absolutely. I always counted on being able to knock on his door, go in and receive the support I needed.

    VPT: You are also a thirty year now retired school teacher. Why did you volunteer at a hospice and not with children?

    E: (laughs) I think I needed to do something different. After my husband died so young, I felt like I wanted to do something that was meaningful.

    VPT: Did his death influence your decision to volunteer for a hospice?

    E: I don’t think so. It was over three years between his death and my decision to volunteer.

    VPT: How did you find hospice?

    E: I saw this ad, and I knew right then it was a way to fill my life with some meaning.

    VPT: So, there was no magic formula for recruiting you?

    E: Sorry, no.

    VPT: Many people think hospice volunteering is depressing. Were you burdened with sadness?

    E: No. It was quite the opposite. It was fulfilling.

    VPT: Was there any opportunity for fun?

    E: Oh, my yes. I had so much fun with the staff. We let loose all the time. The seriousness of our work was a contrast to the silliness we experienced. I remember the time we made over 100 pumpkin pies for a Thanksgiving dinner in our care center. We laughed the whole time. Having that fun kept us wanting to do more, you know what I mean?

    VPT: I do. Was having fun a good use of your volunteer supervisor’s time do you think?

    E: Absolutely. Life is full of balances. The balance between serious work and letting off steam goes a long way to bond us together. It strengthened our team.

    VPT: I’m pushing here, but I wonder. Have you ever connected your losing your husband, the man you had planned on retiring with, and your work in hospice?

    E: Ehh, no. I just know that I had a lot of years to give and it was a way to fill my life with some meaningful work.  But I do remember one year, I signed up to volunteer at a children’s grief camp.  That day, while driving on the way to camp, I thought about all the little kids who were coming. They had all lost someone important in their lives and I had a little meltdown. I missed my husband.

    VPT: That must have been tough.

    E: I thought about these kids and it occurred to me that I went through this years ago. It brings something home. While I was there, we had a ceremony at night. I was really grieving for my husband. It comes when you least expect it. Sometimes you have an epiphany to a particular circumstance you’ve been through. It was almost like a total realization I had been through a significant loss and I released that.

    VPT: I’m at a loss for words.

    E: I even had grief counseling after his death. But my meltdown shocked me. I thought I had processed the grief.

    VPT: So, in retrospect, did your volunteering have a personal positive impact on you?

    E: Oh my, yes.

    Next time: Part 2 of this interview. Ellie moved away from her hospice, but she stopped volunteering before she moved. Why?

    -Meridian

  • Is it Time to Start Selling Volunteer Perfume?

    is-it-time-to-start-selling-volunteer-perfume

    In 1886 America, a struggling door to door book salesman, David H. McConnell discovered that the small vials of perfume he offered as “door opening” incentives were more popular than books and from that realization, the Avon Company was founded.

    Well, huh. Volunteer managers know that volunteering enhances the lives of those who volunteer with us. We have seen the grief-stricken person begin to socialize again, the quiet student learn to trust their abilities, and the senior come alive with purpose. We’ve seen volunteers learn so much about themselves that we could write a textbook.

    What if we borrowed from Mr. McConnell and compared books and perfume to recruiting and managing a volunteer force?

    The books: volunteer jobs (Volunteers Needed to Stuff Envelopes)

    The perfume: the benefits of volunteering (Learn New Skills) (Socialize with Caring People) (Change Your Life)

    Maybe the time is right to symbolically begin our own perfume company. Many articles are being written and statistics kept on the benefits of volunteering. Since the evidence that we knew all along is overwhelming,  we can become a greater positive force in our communities by looking to not just fill organizational needs, but to help our fellow citizens enrich their lives by volunteering.

    What if we put as much emphasis on our perfume as on our books? Would developing our perfume company create a larger volunteer force of outstanding volunteers and in return, more books would be sold, er volunteer positions would be filled? I’m thinking, yes.

    We have the most fragrant life enhancing perfume. And yet it is secondary, mostly kept in our desk drawers until a class of new volunteers begin. Then we pull it out and spritz it in the air, letting that intoxicating life enhancing scent fill their nostrils with promise. We should be pumping that scent all over town by the gallon.

    What if, besides volunteer coordinators, we also became “life enhancement coordinators?”  How would that look? Well, for starters we would:

    Add a new focus: We would create positions in our organizations that serve our volunteers and in turn, those innovative jobs would help our clients in new creative ways.

    Put volunteers first:  We would partner with other local organizations to share volunteers instead of operating in dark, isolated caves, all trying to lure the same people inside and clinging to the ones we have, even if we can’t offer them a great volunteer experience and someone else can.

     Create new benefits for our organizations: We would create a community of fluid volunteers who could share talents with many organizations and therefore bring fresh ideas to help each organization grow. (or are non-profits really just in competition with one another for the same donations, publicity and volunteers?)

    Lower volunteer attrition: We would end the cycle of volunteers bouncing from organization to organization and giving up because the process is so tedious.

    Expand organizational reach: We would measure the impact on our communities, thus exponentially mushrooming the outreach and standing of our organizations.  Wait, measure perfume?

    What are some measurable volunteer life enhancing statistics?

    • The number of unemployed people who were able to fill in gaps in their resumes and garnered new recommendations from organizational staff.
    • The number of students who used service learning and organizational recommendations to seek entry into the college of their choice.
    • The number of corporate teams who made a commitment to service, learned team building skills and became supporters of a cause (donations, marketing etc).
    • The number of people who were able to garner people skills as they learned about inter-generational connections or diversity because they were paired with someone different from them.
    • The number of people made aware of X disease or Y social issue or Z traumatic experience by peering firsthand into our missions which gave them word of mouth marketing skills.
    • The number of isolated individuals who were able to socialize and connect, thus decreasing their risk for illness and depression.
    • The number of retired people who were able to launch volunteering careers and stay active with meaningful work.
    • The number of seniors who served critical roles and utilized skills which is proven to ward off dementia and Alzheimer’s.
    • The number of students who will become the citizens of the future due to skills learned, such as philanthropy and leadership.

    What if our organizations showcased these statistics as part of their end of year report? How big and beautiful would that report be? And wouldn’t those incredibly heartwarming stats increase each charities’ standing in the community?

    I think the time is right for volunteer managers to come out of the shadows and lead. Think about all the times a prospective volunteer walked through your door and you instinctively sensed they had a secondary reason to volunteer. Think about all the volunteers you have spent time with, tweaking positions until the right fit presented itself. Think about the programs you have created because you had a group of dynamic volunteers that needed something more. How many times have you heard your volunteers tell you that they get so much more out of volunteering than they give?

    Most of the emotional time and commitment we spend cultivating volunteers and meeting their needs never gets reported. This is why the misconceptions abound. “Managing volunteers is easy.” “All you do is have tea parties and socialize”. “Why can’t you just ask? Someone will do it.”

    While we continually struggle to justify the hours we spend with each and every volunteer, we discover that the biggest part of our jobs lies outside the scope of the organizational definition of volunteer management because our jobs as “life enhancement coordinators” is not properly recognized or measured. We possess the tools to change this misconception.

    Instead of continuing to just peddle books while we possess this life changing fragrance, let’s take matters into our own capable hands.

    Let’s sell perfume.

    -Meridian

  • What’s Over Our Volunteers’ Shoulders?

    ironWe can’t follow our volunteers around every minute of every assignment. I know for you closet control types, this evokes the anxiety akin to your child’s first day of school. You stand outside the window pressing your nose against the glass trying to will the teacher and other children to be nice, but all you see is your breath clouding the view.

    I know this because I’m a control freak too and think that by hovering over the volunteers I can chase away the bad things that will make a volunteer quit. I’m the volunteer parent who peeks in while volunteer Johnny is working just to make sure no creepies are lurking in the corner. Call it a mother hen syndrome, a realistic approach based on history or just plain Volcontrol insanity; I make a living smoothing the creases in the fabric of volunteering. Nuts, huh?
    So, of course, when new volunteer Julie, a perfectly capable young woman was going to meet a new patient in a nursing home for the first time, I had to go along. After all, would she be able to find his room? Would the nursing home staff be kind to her? Would she feel thrown to the wolves by my absence?
    I agreed to meet Julie one afternoon after lunch. She was actually going to meet this patient, Ezra, and speak to him about writing down his life story. It’s a wonderful way to do a life review and also provide a real legacy for subsequent generations. The activities director of the nursing home, Cara, had mentioned that Ezra enjoyed reminiscing and was a perfect candidate for recording his life.
    Anyway, I met Julie in the nursing home lobby and we headed for Ezra’s room. He wasn’t there so we inquired at the nurses’ station and they directed us to the dining room where the residents had just finished their lunch. Ezra was there, in his wheelchair, sitting at a table by himself, sipping his juice. We sat down and introduced ourselves. I sat at Ezra’s left at the square, four person table and Julie sat at his right. I had a clear view of the hallway leading out of the dining room and could watch anyone coming or going. Ezra was absolutely delightful. With an elven smile and self-deprecating attitude, he assured us that his life was not interesting at all, but as we gently prodded, we found out that he had grown up in an orphanage, had taught himself to play the piano and worked in a traveling circus as a teen. His circus job was to help assemble and break down the tents, tend to the animals, learn and do magic tricks and sometimes fill in for one of the clowns. He married at 17, raised three daughters, graduated college at 33 and became a pharmacist and opened his own drugstore. Now, at 87, Ezra was succumbing to disease but his eyes lit up in the memories born of experiences that shaped his autobiography.
    While Ezra chuckled through a story about his wife’s overbearing mother, I happen to glance up and see a woman coming down the hallway towards the dining room. She was gracefully tall with dark hair and her casual clothes suggested a visitor. She locked eyes with me, her expression hostile so I looked away for a moment to escape her gaze.
    And then it hit me. The daughter claws were out. This was Ezra’s daughter approaching and she needed to know who was sitting down with her father. Tersely she put her hand on her Dad’s shoulder and introduced herself. “I’m Hannah,” she said, reaching for my hand. “And you are?”
    I introduced both myself and Julie and explained that we were there to begin a life stories project with her Dad. Hannah sat down and her eyes darted back and forth as she scrutinized us asking her father questions. As Ezra reminisced, Hannah slowly became animated, smiling at the stories. She began to interject, gently prodding her father for clarity and offering her version of events.
    We sat and chatted for two and a half hours, much longer than we had originally planned on staying. We could have stayed longer. As Julie and I got up, promising to return, Hannah shook our hands. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she said.
    “Your father is a special man,” I said.
    “He is. All three of us, my sisters and I were so fortunate to have him as a father.”
    Julie assured Hannah that she would return soon to continue recording Ezra’s stories.
    As we left, I looked over my shoulder at Hannah, who was hugging her father and smiling broadly.
    Julie and I said goodbye in the parking lot. I thanked her and she thanked me for the opportunity. It always gives me a thrill when volunteers are grateful for the very jobs they do so well.

    While I tag along and look over the shoulders of volunteers to prevent made up disasters, I secretly really want to experience what they experience. It’s soul filling for me, and when you get to see a daughter animatedly tell you how much your time spent with her special father means to her, it gives you all the reason needed to do your job.
    With that kind of reinforcing experience, I’ll hover anytime.
    -Meridian

  • Yes, Virginia I Need to Know There is a Santa Claus

    yes VirginiaSo many years ago, the famous New York Sun editorial of 1897 answered this letter from eight year old Virginia O’Hanlon:
    I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, “If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.” Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

    Virginia O’Hanlon

    This past Monday, I arrived at work, feeling pretty good. I had gotten more shopping done, and I was gearing up for some holiday events with volunteers. All in all it was a pretty satisfying start to the week, that is until a friend of mine brought me the newspaper. “Did you see this yet?” he asked and as I shook my head no, he gently placed the article in my hand as he walked away. I looked down, not prepared for the shock. One of our college student volunteers, Jay had been killed in an accident over the weekend. “No,” my mind screamed silently in my head, “not Jay.”
    You all know Jay, you’ve had him (or someone so very like him they could be clones) in your midst too. A mere 21 years old, I immediately liked Jay when he came to see if I could help him complete a project for his marketing class. Within minutes of sitting down, I felt like I was in a planetarium watching a light show and his comet-like charisma made me want to help him. He smiled constantly, said hello to everyone that interrupted our conversations and proceeded to tell me about his major, film production. He excitedly commandeered my PC and pulled up the short films he was working on. He patiently explained lighting and blocking and the nuances that made each film look professional. Every time he would come in, he schooled me further on his studies and one day he emailed me to tell me he had landed a part-time job with an independent film company.
    I can honestly say that every time he came in to see me, I lit up like one of the stars in the night sky.

    But back to Monday. I put down the paper and cried. I thought of my silly shopping, my nice events with my volunteers and then I thought of Jay’s parents and what Christmas would now mean to them as they prepared to bury the body of their full of life son. I cursed the universe that I, nor anyone could bring him back. I wept for the meaningless loss of a life so full of promise. Jay had come specifically to see me two weeks ago and promised to come back and volunteer when the semester ended. I tried to comprehend that he wasn’t coming back. I didn’t know how much I could care about one of our young volunteers until I acutely felt his stinging absence.

    We, volunteer managers work in areas of need and often our daily companions are sorrow and tragedy because sadly, tragedy happens every day. Our jobs are predicated on assisting others who can use our volunteers’ help and so, we are used to sadness and trauma. But are we comfortable with it, especially when it hits us like a black hole bent on destroying our very core?

    The editor of the Sun answered eight year old Virginia in part by saying:

    Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

    Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.

    Monday, I wanted to not believe in the idea of Santa Claus, or in beauty and love and fairness and right, and I wanted to quit trying but that would mean no belief in hope, no belief in kindness, no belief that I can make a difference in this world, albeit a small one.

    Does Santa have aches and pains, does he have days when it seems so hopeless? It’s easy to romanticize every act of kindness and to not see all the behind the scenes moments of doubt, uncertainty, and the desire to give up and give in when incomprehensible events knock us off our trajectory.
    But we can’t. We must go on, we cannot stop our part in building a world of peace and kindness. We must ensure that our jobs are eventually obsolete because the world is filled with light.

    So I’m going to get up again and even though it hurts so much, I’m going to get my hammer and go back to building this world of luminous hope even as tears spill over my worn shirt.
    Why? Why bother at all since there is so much to stay our hands?
    Because the alternative is unacceptable.

    So, in the spirit of this season, here’s to all of you who get up at dawn’s breaking beacon to deliver the toys even though your heart might be aching, to all of you who stoke the campfires of warmth and comfort even though you’re sore and tired, and to all of you who smile through pain so that someone else might find joy.

    And here’s to your memory, Jay, be at peace. Somehow, the rest of us have to go on now.

    And to you Virginia? Here’s to the humanity, generosity and determination in us all.
    -Meridian

  • Soulplasty

    up periscopeI didn’t make an appointment to repair my soul, because I really never stop to think that I need it. Every morning, I can see in the mirror how a face lift would go a long way to erase crinkling lines, but my soul, well it’s hard to see, at least in the daytime.
    So, when, Hannah, a volunteer who roams the floor of a hospice care center came and got me, I wasn’t thinking about going under life’s knife, but then you have to know Hannah.
    So quiet, she sometimes melts into the carpet, Hannah, at just over 5 feet tall, is like a submarine in shallow water. Her radar is spot on and in between her torpedo jokes, she gets to the heart of a patient and family. When Hannah summons you to “see this” you’d better believe it’s beyond cute or nice or lovely. It’s soulplasty. She summoned me on Monday to hear about a terminally ill man in one of the rooms. “I’ve been invited to be in on the ceremony,” she said as if I knew what the heck she was talking about.
    “What ceremony?” I asked.
    “The wedding.”
    “Wedding? Who’s getting married?”
    “He is, the patient, George.”
    “Oh, wow, who is he marrying?”
    “His live in girlfriend. I’m waiting for the chaplain.”
    It didn’t surprise me that Hannah would be included in something so personal, so intimate, so life altering. She has this way of entering a room. She arrives, testing the emotional temperature with her eyes and ears, and becomes a part of the scene. She doesn’t throw out pleasantries, she’s all business and that business is the family in front of her. Her demeanor says, “I’m here and I’m all in no matter what’s going on.”
    Our chaplain arrived. I really wanted to ask to join the group, but of course that would be about me and not about the patient so I picked at a piece of peeling wallpaper down the hall waiting to hear.
    Hannah came out a short time later and nodded to me. It was done. I got some coffee and waited for Hannah to join me at a table in the lounge. She sat down and unwrapped her very long very chic scarf as if removing a part of a uniform.
    “How did it go?” I asked.
    She sat for a moment, processing and then spoke. “It was really good, he’s barely able to speak now, but he got the words out. He told her what he needed to say.” She choked up a bit and stopped. I could only just sit there and try to grab the emotions filling the room.
    “What about his wife?”
    Hannah smiled. “She positively glowed.” She twirled her scarf in her hand. “This was the one thing he insisted on, the one thing he had to do before he died.”
    “Was it for a religious reason?” I gently asked.
    “No.” She paused and sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “He didn’t do it out of guilt, or responsibility, or some social expectation, he did it because for him, it was his own personal responsibility laid bare. It was out of pure love.”
    We both grew quiet. Then Hannah said, “Do you ever get a moment when everything seems to make sense?”

    Yes, I actually do.
    Yesterday I spent the day helping honor veterans for veterans day. As I stood in the cold room of a Navy Pilot, he softly said, “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Tears filled his eyes, and he shakily reached for my hand. I got close and felt his weakening life through his grip. He looked up at me and for a moment everything melted away, the room, the facility, the world. I could feel the battles, now distant, the coming home, the hard work, the family and friends, the joys and the heartaches. His voice, just a whisper now held the power of eternity.

    It is this reparation of soul, whether we feel it firsthand or through the stories of our volunteers that give us sustenance. It is the interconnectedness of human to human to human and on that makes us do what we do.
    I’m taking my newly repaired soul back to work and know that it will get battered with stress and challenges. But, at least I also know that another moment of soulplasty will come my way just when I don’t know I need it.
    -Meridian

  • The Shiny New Coin

    JFK CoinThe shiny new coin, there is nothing like it. It actually has a scientific reason for its radiance. During the coin striking process, the mint luster is born. The coin isn’t shiny because the mint polishes it, it is shiny because the metal changes on a molecular level.
    David is a retired physicist. When he arrived at new volunteer orientation, I honestly did not know what to make of him at first. A giant bear of a man, his full white beard and shaggy head of hair made him look like a cross between Santa Claus and a guy who just stumbled out of the wilderness. His soft shoes and wrinkled khakis matched his sleepy voice. “I hope I’m not late” he said quietly as he joined the others. The other volunteers, who had already arrived looked up at him and then at me as if to say, “Who on earth is this guy? And what will we do with him?”
    Our class was fantastic as most volunteer orientation classes are. I love to watch the group dance around each other at first, then slowly as they learn their group rhythm, they take partners and switch as they emotionally swirl around the room, getting to know each other. As their comfort level increases, they relax and share opinions, histories, fears and hopes. It’s invigorating, educating and fulfilling all at the same time.
    I thought David might be the wallflower, awkward and shy, unable to garner a dance with anyone, but I was wrong. In his calm voice he engaged everyone brilliantly, doing an emotional tango with each member of the class. Before long, we had lively debate and discussion, tempered with genuine care for one another. We met four times and I know I came away feeling refreshed. I hoped the class members did as well.
    David called me several times before he was placed with a volunteer mentor and I got to know more about this shiny new coin. He had some experiences helping friends and relatives, but this was his first formal volunteering venture. We talked about questions he had regarding working with dying patients, and we talked about personal motivations. He was hesitant and hopeful and promised to call me after his first real experience.
    David called me this past Monday morning. It was about 9am and as with every Monday, the week seemed daunting so when he called I sat myself down and tried to focus. “Hi David,” I said, “what’s going on?”
    David asked me if I had time to listen and I of course said yes. With volunteers, any time is the right time. If we put them off, we’ll never carve out the precious time to hear what they have to say. As I settled in, David said that he mentored with a seasoned volunteer, Hal in a hospice house. He told me that Hal showed him around, teaching him all the little things that needed to be done. Then Hal brought David into a room with a patient, Mary. Mary, an 87 year old former cook from Ireland was lying peacefully, eyes closed in her bed, and Hal whispered a hello that hung in the air. He quietly told David that Mary did not respond to his voice but that he would often just sit with Mary so that she wasn’t alone.
    “Would you like to sit with her while I check on other patients,” Hal asked David and he agreed, but was somewhat nervous at his first real experience.
    David’s voice grew quiet, a breath in the line. “I don’t know what possessed me, but I sat close to Mary and looked at her face. Something took hold and I started singing softly. I sang “Danny Boy” to her and I don’t really ever sing, not much. I would imagine that she couldn’t hear me, but she opened her eyes and looked at me. And then she smiled, the most beautiful peaceful smile I’ve ever seen. When I was done, she closed her eyes again. So I sang another song and she opened her eyes again and watched me sing. Every time I would stop she would close her eyes, and when I would sing again, ever so softly, she opened her eyes. I can’t quite put into words, but I felt like we connected on a level so deep that time and place meant nothing.”
    “Wow,” was really all I could whisper, caught in the still moment.
    “Is it always like this?” David asked and I could picture him on the other end of the phone, his molecular volunteer structure lined up so perfectly.
    What could I say? “The possibilities are yours to find,” I told him. (Just like we found you, a shiny new coin.)

    My Monday melted away and I felt my molecules returning to their own luster. If I helped even just a wee bit in aligning David’s molecular volunteer structure, I feel honored and humbled and so fulfilled.
    As we mentor the volunteers in our care, think of their volunteering as a newly minted coin, forged by inspiration.
    The shiny new coin. There’s nothing like it.
    -Meridian

  • Of Swords and Cranes

    swords and cranesThat morning was filled with the chaos of emails and phone messages and the flitting of staff whose requests and questions settled onto my desk. As I scrolled through the emails and deleted the spammy junk, I then moved onto the “cute” emails from volunteers. I love that they feel close enough to send me their chain emails, even though the sheer volume is cumbersome. I came across a video from a volunteer about the random giving of 1000 origami cranes to strangers. Lovely music accompanied the surprised looks on the faces of strangers as a young woman shared her kindness with humanity. I’ve gotten plenty of videos before, random acts of kindness shared by the network of people in our volunteers’ lives.
    As I closed the email, I looked up to see Stuart standing in front of me. Stuart is a volunteer who seldom requires any attention or help. As a matter of fact, I actually feel rather inadequate in his presence. A former Army officer and professor, Stuart has ridden the wings of power in circles I can only imagine. A tragedy brought Stuart to volunteer. His own personal grief, shared only in carefully guarded pieces has made him one powerful volunteer. Sometimes there is an incredible fusion in volunteers, almost like a big bang theory of worlds colliding that can produce an amazing giver. Stuart is one of those people.
    “Hi Stuart,” I said, “what brings you here today?”
    His face was intense, purposeful. “They called me in to sit with a patient.”
    “Oh, of course.” In a millisecond, I switched gears. See, volunteer managers can change personas at will. It’s a skill that serves us well as we morph into the role we need to assume.
    “Let’s go find out where they want you to be,” I said, getting up and heading for the nurses’ station. Stuart is an 11th hour, or vigil or whatever you want to term it volunteer. These are volunteers who sit with the dying who are alone at the end of the journey. These folks are incredible, and they take their jobs to heart with the fierceness of a soldier battling the forces that are trying to keep the dying alone.
    Stuart was led to a room where a man was actively dying. He was alone, because his family was in route and Stuart would be the human presence until they arrived. The man was young, dying of melanoma and he had taken a turn for the worse during the night. His parents were on their way.
    So, Stuart entered the room, inhaling the scene. He pulled a chair up close and sat down, his eyes riveted to the human spirit struggling to escape the failing body. Stuart took in the whispered instructions from the nurse then looked up a me and nodded once. “Go, I’ve got this, I’m on duty.”
    As I walked back towards my office, I had to stop, so I paused at the water fountain. Such intense moments cannot be shrugged off so easily. I needed to feel the weight of a life ebbing away, to process the intensity of a volunteer giving of himself completely.
    I returned to tasks, somewhat distracted, still feeling the energy of what was happening a short way from my workspace. I thought back to the class Stuart had taken on the imminently dying, and how, looking over the faces of the volunteers in attendance, I was struck by the sheer power of their will. Each one had their own story, their own reason to give so intimately and the humility of it all had been overwhelming.
    These feelings lingered and I kept glancing at the door to see if Stuart would check in before he left. If he didn’t, well, I understood the why of that decision only too well.
    A short time later, when thankfully, no one was waiting to chat, Stuart did come in. “Please don’t let there be any interruptions,” I said under my breath. He looked drained.
    “They arrived,” he said, speaking of the parents. “They are with him now and he’s close.” Stuart’s face was lined with the responsibility of holding a soul in his hand.
    “And you?” I whispered.
    He smiled. “I’m good. I’m glad I could be here.” The myriad of inner emotions stayed inside where he prefered them to remain.
    “Thank you Stuart.” I said, knowing that any other statements or questions would be lame, flat.
    “Call me anytime.” He stood up, and shook my hand. “Anytime.” With that he turned and walked out.
    There will be no You Tube video of Stuart. He has no message to share with the voyeurism masses. His is an intensely private journey.
    Later, I checked with the nurse, and the patient’s parents were with him when he died. In their mix of hard emotions, the parents might not even realize that Stuart was there, not yet anyway. Would it matter to Stuart if they never did know that he spent that time between life and death with someone he did not know, yet cared about so deeply? Or would his reward just be the knowledge that he had spent the most intimate of moments with another?
    I started the morning looking at a woman giving cranes to strangers, and ended the morning witnessing a soldier wield his proverbial sword to keep a stranger from dying alone.
    Volunteering is of swords and cranes and sometimes, they mean the same thing.
    -Meridian

  • The Shaping of Volunteers

    child with flowerWith Mothers Day still fragrant from all the vases of flowers and all the leftovers from dinners out, I started thinking about the stories volunteers have told me about their mothers. I have a friend who laughingly tells me that people volunteer because they were wild in their youth and are now making up for it, and for a few volunteers I know that’s true because they have said it. But most stories the volunteers tell are great yarns, the kind of stories that feel like they are coming from a huge book, read while you sit on the floor, hands propping up your chin.

    Annabel told me that her mom was so old-fashioned that when she met her husband to be, Ben, her mother gave her firm, ‘not to be ignored’ instructions. See Annabel, an only child was 14 and Ben, a mature 17 fell in love at a country picnic. He began to court her by showing up at her house, hat in hand, a polite “yes ma’am” on his lips. Her mother and father looked Ben over, decided to give him the chance to prove his worth and they let the two young people get to know each other. “And my mother,” Annabel said, “Oh my mother gave me lots of advice. She told me what to wear, how to act and what to say to be a nice girl, a good catch for this gangly almost grown man who I was head over heels in love with. But she also had stern rules for me too. I could only kiss Ben five times on a date. When I told him that rule, he laughed, but he obeyed out of respect for my mother. We were married when I was 16 and we’ve been married 65 years now and we often talk about my mother and how much she loved both of us. Mother was a strong woman, fair and loving. Ben and I could not have children so we adopted four. My mother was a wonderful grandmother to them. It was because of her that I adopted children and now want to help others.”

    Corine came to volunteer two years after her mother died. Corine, a divorced woman with no children, lived with her mother until her mother’s death two years before. She often speaks of her mother who was her best friend, citing the sacrifices her mother made for the family. “My mother was raised in an orphanage and did not ever know her real family. She put herself through business school and raised myself and my sister. We never wanted for anything and although I know my mother struggled, we never ever knew that. My mother helped anyone and everyone, from our neighbors, to down on their luck strangers who she gave probably her only spending money to. I lived with her for 20 years until her death. She was my best friend, my confidant and although I miss her every day, she was the one that told me I must go on living. Because she was such a good person, I want to be that good person too.”

    Grace speaks of her mother wistfully. “My mom was dealt a blow no mom should ever suffer. My brother Jay was killed in Vietnam at the age of 19. I was only 14 at the time and I still remember the funeral. How my mother and father cried. My mother grieved her whole life but she never let it affect the rest of us kids. She never let his memory hold us in the past. Rather, we kept his memory with us, as we moved forward and my mother lived for us and for him. On his birthday and on holidays my mother would slip away for a bit and sit in Jay’s room and cry. She cried her tears of pain and then powdered her face and joined the family. My mother was strong and loving and she taught me that heartache could not diminish love nor spirit. After my husband died, I was devastated, but I picked myself back up and decided to live. I volunteer in honor of her.”

    Greg told me that he and his brothers and sisters grew up in the hills of Tennessee. “Early in their marriage, my father had an accident at work and was disabled so that meant my mother had to be the sole provider for our family. I can remember the hard times, when we would take a walk up to the store and buy a pound of flour and a pound of sugar so that we could make flapjacks and homemade syrup for dinner. Mom worked, sewed our clothes, made our food, helped us with our homework and cared for Dad. She never complained. She died at the age of 54 and I think she lived two lifetimes of work and responsibility in her 54 years. I remember though, laying in bed and Mom singing us to sleep. Her voice calmed my fears and told me that, although times were hard, I was loved and safe. I want others to feel that way.”

    In our profession, we have this wonderful opportunity to engage with our volunteers. The vast majority of them are amazing human beings and getting to know them is a glimpse into the stories that shape them. Listening to them speak of their mothers is like hearing the singing of a tale or the recitation of an epic poem. These stories are enlightening and inspiring. I wish I could meet those mothers.
    If I could meet them I would tell them thank you for shaping our volunteers minds and hearts. I would say to them, “I wish you could see the wonderful person your child has become. I know you would be proud.”
    -Meridian

  • The Song of the Weathered Explorer

    newell-convers-wyeth-the-rakish-brigantine-sea-captain-in-stormVolunteer Appreciation week has always been a chance to reconnect with volunteers. There are those you see every day, those you talk to on the phone weekly, and those you only see at meetings. Each volunteer takes the right amount of interaction, praise and mental follow-up. Don’t think for a moment that an event is easy, so if after an event your head is swimming, that’s normal. Events take finesse and each volunteer that comes up to you takes a minute or two of intense volunteer retention. It’s worth every moment but it is exhausting.

    There are a few volunteers who do not attend meetings, and they prefer to bob out there on the volunteering sea, wind in face, their hands skillfully steering them through storm and calm. They take little to no management interference for they have impeccable motivation, mad skills and they’ve circumnavigated the globe of helping far longer than they’ve been managed. Open their brains and a tide of experience comes gushing out. They are the historians, the pioneers, the explorers who have led the way in your organization.
    I encountered Jenna at an event during volunteer appreciation week. I hadn’t seen her in quite some time so I was thrilled that she came. Jenna and I go way, way back. She was one of the first volunteers I recruited to work at a hospice house about 20 years ago. Jenna, a British transplant, married an American man and spent time tutoring local high school students in the fine art of composition. I even got to attend her swearing-in ceremony when she became a citizen. Back in the day, we roamed the halls of the house, imagining volunteer programs while caring for patients as we went. It was new territory to discover and Jenna was fired up to be in the middle of something unique and innovative.
    Several years later, Jenna moved and she ended up visiting nursing homes in her new area. Another volunteer coordinator was now involved with Jenna and occasionally I talked to her new manager, Shelby, about how Jenna was doing.
    “Fine, just fine,” Shelby would always say. “She pretty much keeps to herself though. I don’t have a lot of dealings with her. Sometimes I’m just happy if she comes to a meeting. But she does turn in her paperwork and the patients love her.”
    Hmmmm. These conversations never felt like we were speaking about Jenna, at least not the Jenna I knew. But I always requested my hello be passed on to her.
    So, during volunteer appreciation week, Jenna surprised me. She snuck up behind me as I was checking people in and popped me on the back. “Jenna!” I yelled and gave her a big hug. “Wow, I didn’t know you were coming!”
    “I was in town,” she said, and smiled. “I figured you’d be here and I wanted to say hi.”
    “I’m so glad you did,” I returned, genuinely pleased to see her.
    Since the event took up time and effort, Jenna sat with some long-term volunteers that she knew. But after the event was over, she hung around and helped clean up.
    “So, how’s it going?” I asked. “I heard you were visiting nursing homes. That must be pretty awesome for you.” I said as I crumbled up paper tablecloths.
    “Yeah, it’s ok,” she offered, a bit half heartedly. “I love the patients, don’t get me wrong.” She stared at a candy dish.
    “Then what is it?” I asked putting aside my cleaning.
    “It isn’t, it just isn’t the same.” she said. “Don’t you miss those days when we first started? How the atmosphere was so exciting and we were the first ones to create so many things? All of us, staff and volunteers, we were in it together, we had this incredible chemistry and we did amazing work.” She traced the top of the dish. “I miss it. It just isn’t the same. I feel so, so ordinary.”
    I put my hand on her back. “You, my friend, are an amazing, wonderful volunteer. We never could have done half the things we did without your vision and enthusiasm. Sure, I miss it. I miss you, too.”
    She looked at me and I wondered where explorers go after they’ve discovered whatever it was they were looking for.
    “Jenna,” I offered, “things have changed. Goodness knows, they’ve changed a lot and we couldn’t do today what we did back then. But you have so much to offer. Look at all you’ve done. That Jenna is still there. Still waiting to reconnect and imagine.”
    “I think I might want to try some different volunteering.” She said it almost as a question, as though she might be disloyal.
    She looked like a little girl who has been down in the claustrophobic cabin of the boat, itching to get her hands on the wheel and steer somewhere exciting.
    “You should. Go for it, you don’t have to cling to this. Go out and find a fledgling volunteer group and do amazing things.”
    She gave me a hug. “Thank you. And thank you for understanding.” As she popped a chocolate in her mouth she asked, “you do feel it, don’t you? It’s not the same, right? I’m not crazy.”
    “No, you are most certainly not crazy. I feel it. But things never remain the same. And neither do we. So, grow, my friend and don’t look back.”
    With that she walked out. I’m certain she will find another spot to volunteer. Whether she can recapture the excitement of newness and innovation remains to be seen.
    So, until I hear from her, I will just picture her, spray in face, hands on the wheel, steering for the horizon and whatever new territory lies out there.
    -Meridian

  • An Open Letter to Prospective Volunteers During Volunteer Appreciation Week

    extended handDear Potential Volunteer:
    Happy volunteer appreciation week. Although, you may not yet be a volunteer, by considering becoming one, you are one step closer to being one of over 100 million volunteers worldwide. We, volunteer managers, are cordially inviting you. And so, I am writing this letter to you personally. If you are interested, I’m going to ask you a few questions to help you acquaint yourself with the volunteer manager who will be your guide throughout this process. Let’s get started.
    Because we appreciate your unique qualities, how do we support you while together we find your ideal volunteer niche? Are we to be your mentor, your cheerleader, your coach, or your teacher? Can you help us fill the role you need us to fill so that you can succeed?
    What should we do to help bring out your best? Do we hover, give constant praise or would you rather we stay back and be available only when you signal you need our help? Can you give us signals that indicate you are doing well or tap us on the shoulder when you need us?
    How often do you want us to call you? Every time we have an assignment? Are you ok with saying no to us or do you feel like you have to say yes? How will we know its the right time in your day or week or life? Can you tell us when things change so that we do not have to guess? (We usually are incorrect, just so you know).
    Ok, if you’re still with me, let’s move on.
    How much do you want us to know about you personally? Do you want us to know every deep detail or do you feel that lots of personal questions are, well, too personal? Can you help us get to know you as a person?
    Will you understand why we ask you to respect our guidelines? Our rules are there for reasons. Sometimes, to be honest, the rules frustrate us too. If we ask you for a background check, can you be ok with us having to do that? We want you to know that we don’t think you are a criminal, we are just following requirements. It’s not that we don’t want you to volunteer and appreciate your enthusiasm, it’s that we must maintain processes in order to serve you and our clients. Can you think of it like this: If my mother (or father, son, partner, whomever) needed the help of a volunteer, would I want that volunteer to be thoroughly vetted by the organization?
    What about awards and recognition? Would you feel left out if another volunteer was spotlighted or given an award? Are you the kind of person who says the limelight doesn’t matter, but secretly you feel slighted if we take you at your word and don’t formally honor you? This may seem trivial, but we really want to give you the type of feedback that fits your style. Meaningless praise is not what we are about. Can you help us to give you the recognition you’ve earned?
    And what about motivations? Will you feel that we are psychoanalyzing if we try to get at the heart of your desire to volunteer? Will it bother you if we want to probe deeper than your desire to “just help?” Can you see how it helps us when we know the secondary reasons like you enjoy socializing or you need challenging experiences? Can we convince you that we are really doing our job if we gently probe about your recent losses or your former life challenges? Will you understand if we take more time acclimatizing you because we want to make sure that you will do well? If we ask you to wait six months or a year, can you see that we want you to come back after you have spent some time healing yourself? We know that volunteering is cathartic and healing and we have seen so many people successfully volunteer while mending their souls. Since this is a very delicate balance, will you understand we have a responsibility to the vulnerable population we serve and that being healthy and whole is a sound basis for volunteering? Will you let us work with you?
    When you have a great idea, can you understand that we do not make policy and that we cannot always make things happen, at least not right away? Because organizations have hierarchies, will you allow us to go through the channels to get things done and understand that we can’t force processes to go faster? We get very frustrated too, with the sometimes slow go of committees and permissions. But having said that, volunteers all over the world have made tremendous improvements in their respective organizations. We most certainly do value your ideas and suggestions, so will you keep them coming? Your suggestions make us look good too. Just kidding.
    We want you to know that we want you to succeed. Our jobs are to find you, (although oftentimes you find us) to orient you properly, to give you the attention and mentoring you need, to place you in a meaningful position that enhances your life while respecting your availability, and to do everything in our power to keep you coming back as a satisfied, productive volunteer.
    You are the reason we have jobs, jobs we cherish, jobs we believe in. You inspire us, challenge us, educate us, lead us and keep us coming back. We look at each one of you as an individual, with unique perspectives, needs, goals and timetables. We want to support you while cultivating your skills and we are willing to invest time in you if you are willing to work with us. Our clients benefit beyond any of our imaginations.
    Here’s to you, our future volunteers. Will you come, be part of our world? Will you seek us out and change our clients’ and your lives for the better? We want you to experience that almost inexplicable feeling of helping another human being. As one existing volunteer mused, “how can I describe what it is like, my volunteering with critically ill people? How can I describe the feeling I get? Its sorta like trying to tell someone who’s never been in love what it’s like to be in love.”
    Come, our new friends, fall in love.
    -Meridian