volunteerplaintalk

Tag: hospice volunteering

  • Interview With a Volunteer: Ellie Part 2

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    Part two of an interview with Ellie, a volunteer for 18 years with a hospice.

    VPT: Let’s look at things in retrospect now. What advice do you have for volunteer managers? How can we keep someone like you?

    E: I’d say that having someone a volunteer can count on is important.

    VPT: In what way?

    E: It’s trust. I trusted my supervisor and he trusted me.

    VPT: You moved away. But you stopped volunteering before you moved. Was it because you were contemplating the move?

    E: (pauses) No.

    VPT: What was it then?

    E: Things were changing.

    VPT: In what way?

    E: Well, my supervisor was taking on more and more work. I began to realize that when I needed support or a chance to talk, I may go to his office and he would not be available or at another location.

    VPT: That support was important.

    E: Well, yes, because I wanted to make sure that I was doing the right thing. I did not want to do anything wrong.

    VPT: And so, you saw change happening.

    E: Yes.

    VPT: Ok, I am asking you to be honest here. As volunteer managers, we’ve all done this. We sometimes share our frustrations at the amount of extra work with our volunteers, although we don’t mean to do that. Did your supervisor start sharing his frustrations with you?

    E: No, not at all. See, the type of relationship I had with my volunteer supervisor was so successful. He didn’t have to say a word to me. I instinctively knew that he was overburdened all on my own.

    VPT: Do you think it is harder for new volunteers if they don’t forge that deep relationship with their volunteer manager?

    E: I don’t know because I can’t compare it to anything I experienced. I would ask though, are volunteers getting what they need? I know I had it pretty good, and by the same token, I wonder if volunteers who don’t receive the same vote of confidence will stay.

    VPT: So when did you decide to stop volunteering?

    E: I had this patient, Joy, the sweetest lady you’d ever meet. I would go to her house and take her to do her shopping. We had so much fun together, But one day, I went to her house. I was tired, out of sorts I guess and I felt a bit like I didn’t want to go to the store. Joy said to me, Are you all right? Have I done anything to upset you? Well, I assured Joy that she could never upset me and I apologized over and over. I thought long and hard about that moment.

    VPT: And that had something to do with your leaving?

    E: I knew then, that I was done. How? It was my attitude and reactions that told me. I knew that it was time. I had nothing more to give. And if I can’t give 100%, then I’m not doing any good for the people I’m supposed to be helping.

    VPT: How did that make you feel?

    E: (sighs) It made me sad, because it had been such a good ride.

    VPT: Eighteen years. That’s a long time. Did you feel any guilt over leaving?

    E:  No, no guilt because I gave my all while I was there. It was just time.

    VPT: How do you look back on it, now?

    E: I wouldn’t trade it for the world. It was enlightening, rewarding, and was almost like a second carer.

    VPT: What advice would you give to volunteers?

    E: You get out what you put in. And, it is crucial to ask if you have questions and to share problems and experiences with your supervisor.

    VPT: Any advice for volunteer managers?

    E: Yes. Supervisors need to know that volunteers go through what I went through. They need to realize and look for signs that volunteers are going through a period of ineffectiveness and they need to address that. Nurture the volunteers you have.

    VPT: Would you go back now that you’ve had some time off?

    E: No. That is in the past now.

    VPT: Thank you Ellie, for your honesty, your insights and your incredible volunteering.

    E: My pleasure.

    -Meridian

     

     

     

     

  • Interview With A Volunteer: Ellie

    contacts

    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

  • Oh BTW, Get 42 Permanent Volunteers By Next Month-Part 2 Looking Back

    Oh BTW, Get 42 Permanent Volunteers By Next Month-Part 2 Looking Back

    We have to be prepared for it. One day you’re working hard placing volunteers when bam, you’re now in charge of a new program. Your focused energy now has to be refocused. Your carefully managed time has to be completely reworked. Your priorities which you have so meticulously set have to be reset. It happened to me and I survived and here is a quick perspective regarding the project that was handed to me a long time ago.
    First off, the Good:
    Ok, I learned that I was fairly capable after I waded through all the self-defeating voices and just got on with it. I’ve found over the years that equating my work with my worth just held me back. Once I realized that no one concocted this project in order to make me fail, I could logically begin to actually put a plan in place. Tip: Personalizing thoughts can sabotage efforts, so focus on the task at hand in a logical, non-emotional way.

    Now, the Bad: So I have to admit, I fantasized about all the accolades I would receive when I accomplished this gargantuan feat. But, I wasn’t exactly crowned prom queen. Results were ongoing, fluid and expected, therefore in organizational speak, I did not go above and beyond, even though I felt that I did. Tip: Be careful as to your expectations, but don’t go all “aw shucks” and downplay the results. Frame them in terms of volunteer accomplishments and benefits to organization and clients. Then ask for a raise.

    And then, here are just a few Useables:
    Cross-training volunteers is the same as having extra volunteers. When assessing a volunteer request, I learned to look to all volunteers and not just those on a particular list. I’d ask kitchen volunteers to go into homes of patients in their neighborhood (stop by on the way home? Please?) (Mind you, all volunteers got the full patient training). Nursing home volunteers who I knew did not attend a worship service would be asked to come in once in a while on a Sunday or Saturday. Everyone was cross trained so that they could fill in when necessary.
    Volunteer staying power sometimes is really about finding each other. I learned to make sure that the members of groups working together as a team were compatible with each other instead of simply filling time slots. It took more effort and sometimes a time slot would remain open longer, but after losing volunteers due to mismatched teams, I realized the effort was crucial. Members of cohesive groups encourage each other, fill in for each other, and create that camaraderie that keeps them coming back.
    When you have a big ongoing project, you at least have something to offer volunteers who are interested in volunteering with you instead of putting them on hold. In volunteer training, I used to tell the story of two new volunteers, Della and Debbie who told me that absolutely under no circumstance would they ever work in a kitchen. Well, you guessed it, they tried it temporarily, loved it and not only gave 12 years to the kitchen project, they did fundraising, trained new volunteers and filled in for other jobs.
    Don’t pigeonhole a job: So, sure, kitchen work didn’t sound like meaningful stuff for many volunteers who wanted to work with patients, but we were able to expand the kitchen role by having volunteers take trays into rooms, and chat with families about menu choices which led to some real meaningful conversations. Some volunteers started in the kitchen and moved “up” to working exclusively with patients.
    You have to honestly believe that every job matters and not just try to “sell it”. Why did it matter that volunteers were cooking for patients? Well, heck, the meal the volunteers prepared may have been the patient’s last real meal and shouldn’t it have been made with care? Besides, the patient’s family would see the pretty garnishes on the plate, see the homey touches in the food, and see the hand written signatures on the place mat. But do those tiny actions by volunteers really matter? Oh, wow, did I learn that it’s the smallest things that matter the most. Once I began to experience the project in terms of how it impacted real people, my recruitment pitch changed drastically for the better.

    Somehow, in some way, make it your own. When you initiate a project, you already have ownership and buy-in. When you are handed a project, you need to find a way to make it your own so that your enthusiasm and commitment is akin to a project you created. Since I was handed no real guidelines to follow, I quickly made it my own by giving my project a title and mission statement, thereby taking it from the cold ‘Volunteer Dietary Project’ to ‘Homelike Meals Made by Caring Volunteers.’ It was a simple but very powerful transition from an antiseptic concept to a vibrant and purposeful one that I could get behind.

    Big results come from big work. The effort may take a great deal of time and energy, may go forward then backward, may sometimes look impossible, but with the skills already honed from managing volunteers, a project can succeed. We, volunteer managers are stronger and much more capable than we might think.

    -Meridian

  • Oh BTW, Get 42 Permanent Vols By Next Month-Part 1

     

    Oh BTW, Get 42 Permanent Vols By Next Month-Part 1

    Is this the new volunteer manager job security? A dear colleague and friend to this blog, Eileen from Volunteering Counts in Dudley borough (volunteering counts.org.uk) has astutely pointed out in one of her comments that volunteer managers everywhere should be prepared to undertake new volunteer roles when budget cuts force them to supply volunteers for underfunded programs.

    Ok, sure, but how prepared? Well, I had been on the job at a hospice for less than a year when my supervisor decided to rotate the volunteer coordinators into each other’s regions and so I found myself taking my cute inspirational signs off my newly decorated office wall and settling into a care center location. Here I would be in charge of home team volunteers,  nursing home volunteers and care center volunteers for a 14 bed facility. I felt energized, perfectly jazzed until one afternoon, I was summoned to a meeting with the care center supervisor who informed me that dietary would now be volunteer run.

    “Excuse me,” I choked out.

    “Yes, volunteers will be preparing patients’ meals and you will be in charge of meal plans with the help of a dietician, and you will also be responsible for food procurement, safety, health inspections and training of the volunteers in food management.”

    I think I wet my pants a little at that point. (Maybe that’s why I kept a pair of clean skivvies in a locked drawer all those years)

    I honestly can’t remember every emotion I experienced at that moment. I think I couldn’t feel my fingers. I mean, Saturday evening, Friday evening, Sunday morning, all the traditional time slots that were hard enough to fill on occasion-now I had to fill those permanently? Why hadn’t I listened to my mother and found a real profession?

    Here’s the thing. Volunteer managers everywhere must be ready to have these types of requests dropped into their laps at any time. For most volunteer managers, a great deal of volunteer involvement is determined at meetings in which the VMs are not in attendance. Ideas for expansion, cutting costs or projects are often hammered out in board meetings and sent careening down the slope of middle managers until the edicts land in the laps of stunned volunteer coordinators. And sometimes, these ideas are conceived as a last gasp effort to save a program-“I know, we’ll get the volunteers to do it.”

    I went home and cursed my supervisor. Why me? Honestly, I was terrified, completely afraid that I would never be able to accomplish this task. I calculated that I needed to put at least 42 permanent volunteers in place for all three meals a day, seven days a week. And the God awful hard truth was that it became a long slog.

    When handed a huge project, especially with deadlines, every last millisecond of a volunteer manager’s time, energy and creative focus shifts away from other crucial duties and to the project exclusively. In order to maintain the ongoing programs, a VM has to find some balance and deputize seasoned volunteers into leadership roles.

    When you can’t do everything, you can’t do everything. Identifying key volunteers in preparation for the possibility a big project will materialize is proactive volunteer management and will save your sanity. Ease volunteers into taking leadership roles in existing programs and by ease I mean work alongside them until they are comfortable and you are comfortable in how they handle their roles. But, in my experience, don’t “turn over” a program to someone else if you are in charge. The VM must still be the ultimate person in control and checking in continuously (asking questions, offering support, intercepting challenges) establishes your leadership continuum.

    So, did my project succeed? Yes, it did. It’s still going 20 years later in multiple care centers.

    Was it bone crushing hard?  Oh, goodness, yes, even the smallest of things. I still get throbbing headaches when I smell spilled Ensure and when I see food handlers without gloves.

    Did it take time? I think I missed my son’s graduation from middle school, but he won’t say.

    Would I do it again? If I was younger, yes.

    Was I blissfully optimistic or sadly pessimistic about the possibilities? It depended upon the day I was having. Or whether or not I took my medication.

    Did I learn anything of value? Oh, goodness, so much about so many things.

    Can you share these things? Of course, I will, I promise-the good, the bad and the useable-next time:

    Coming in part two,  A perspective: Takeaways from a huge arse-busting project.

    (At least at this point, you know I survived intact!) (Well, maybe physically anyway.)

    -Meridian

  • Volunteering Ointment While the Wound Heals

     

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    I was reading this article on how volunteering helped a volunteer through her grief and it gave me this warm, familiar feeling, like the cracked and stained coffee cup I reach for every morning. It makes me think of all the volunteers with a story similar to this young woman’s who have applied volunteering as an ointment of sorts on their wounds while they heal.

    I think of Paul, whose beloved wife died so young. His gaping open grief was covered by a thin bandage of keeping busy. Helping others, focusing on someone else’s pain and being surrounded by kind people allowed him a chance to slather on the soothing volunteering ointment each time he came. And he stayed for almost ten years as the  ointment became less necessary, but more of a routine that he was used to and so so good at.

    I think of Judy, whose loss was long ago, but unresolved and ever fresh, who talked about the death of her son as though it had happened twenty minutes before. I think of how she instinctively avoided working with any clients, as though she knew her rawness would just get in the way. But while volunteering behind the scenes, she smeared herself in the listening ears of ever patient staff and volunteers who heard her pain and with encouragement, Judy sought out grief counseling.

    I think of Claire, who had been let go from a long-term and secure job. Her wound was to her psyche, and her face showed the lines of deep self-doubt. Every skill she possessed was slashed open, and each job rejection opened her wound again and again. Claire sought out volunteering like a lost pet who puts its nose against a stranger’s patio door in desperation. Her feelings of worth grew very slowly, but steadily until she shook the mantle of worthlessness and viewed each job rejection as a sign of the times. Eventually she gained employment and was more prepared to walk into her new place with confidence on the mend.

    It’s ironic, because each one of these volunteers was not “retained.” Each one of these “wounded healers” used volunteering as salve while delivering extraordinary work to the organizations they served.

    But they did not stay forever. Their retention lasted as long as the ointment helped them to heal enough that they did not need us anymore. Yes, they left not because we did not need them anymore but because they did not need us anymore.

    And just as we celebrate the release of a rehabilitated injured bird back into the wild, we can celebrate the fact that these volunteers were ready to fly. And we can take some solace in the fact that volunteering helped these wonderful hurting people begin to heal.

    So, should we continue to say that volunteer retention is our end game?  I don’t think so, because personally, I’ll take a soul on the mend over retention any day.

    -Meridian

  • See, Hear, Then Feel

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    “I walked into this position without any experience,” says Miriam, a tiny freckled redhead with sea blue glasses. “I had no idea what to expect since I had never worked with volunteers before. My supervisor told me to come in with a purpose, to take charge. They gave me a volunteer manual so that I could train new volunteers and a list of rules.” Miriam sighed. “No one encouraged me to listen to the existing volunteers, to hear their stories, to get their history. Actually, a couple of long-term volunteers wanted me to shadow them, to see what it is they do but I felt like my manager wanted me to establish the program without too much volunteer input. For whatever reason, I didn’t shadow those volunteers and now I think I regret that.”

    Oh boy. Walking into an established program is tough. How do you meet the expectations of the organization yet give power to the volunteers? How much weight do you give to how things were done before? How much immediate control do you need to establish? Is there a happy medium?

    I remember the day I walked into an established program. I was scared because I had no idea how the volunteers did what they did. How can someone who knows nothing, tell them how to volunteer? How could I train new volunteers with no idea of what it was like?

    Fortunately, a lifesaver named Mary took pity on me. Mary had been volunteering for some time and she saw how lost I was and because, luckily she wanted me and the program to succeed, she burst into the office one day and took my arm. “C’mon,” she said, “I want to take you with me to meet my hospice patient.”

    She drove me to this nondescript house. Mary explained, “the caregiver is a neighbor who took the patient into her home after the patient’s husband died. They had no children.” We knocked and entered the modest home which to me, felt like a labyrinth of secrets and unknown societies. The patient, Emma, a child’s smile touching the corners of her lips, watched as Mary greeted her caregiver and neighbor, Francine. I was introduced to both and I folded myself inconspicuously into a corner to observe. Francine, who was going out on errands while we sat with Emma, whirled around the living room, searching for keys, lists of groceries, and gathering papers to drop at the bank. Mary’s visit was her once a week chance to get her errands done. With a manic intensity, Francine showed Mary where everything she could possibly need was located, all the while assuring us that she would return as quickly as possible. There was this wild energy in the room. I couldn’t look away from the enormous responsibility of Francine.

    But then I watched calm Mary, who had been gently stroking Emma’s hand while steadily gazing into her eyes. “Just a moment,” Mary said to her as she got up from Emma’s side. She walked over to Francine who had just checked her purse again and was opening the door to leave, still mumbling over and over that she wouldn’t be gone long. Mary gently wrapped her arm around Francine’s shoulders and said, “you are doing a remarkable job. We can all see how difficult this is and you are doing it with grace. You need to know what a blessing you are to Emma.”

    And then it happened. I heard the catch in Francine’s voice. I saw her shoulders rise and her expression change. I felt the waves of encouragement wash over her. I experienced the renewal she felt.
    And in that brief moment, in that tiny living room, Mary opened up the world of volunteering to me.

    Being able to connect with our volunteers as they change the lives of those we serve is a precious gift. The moments we are privileged to witness inspire us, teach us and equip us to enlist others in important work.

    Our volunteers are teachers too. From them we learn to see, to hear and to feel. And then, armed with those gifts in our fingertips, we can put our rules and expectations in place.

    -Meridian

  • Humbled

    potato pancakes
    Managing volunteers is very much like attending a life university in which there are classes on leadership, psychology, history, arts, health, philosophy, science and sometimes when you get lucky enough, quantum physics. We not only learn from our volunteers, but also each other, our clients, and our staff. No wonder we brush off the day-to-day hard stuff. We’re here to learn and grow.

    Sometimes, that learning is tiny, almost imperceptible like a diamond lying in the dust under our feet until a shaft of sunlight illuminates the sparkle and only then, we stop to pick it up and turn it over in our hand, enthralled by the worth of such a tiny object.

    Dot was a snip of a woman, outliving her husband by years, childless, left alone with her money and an emptying change purse of friends. She came to the hospice care center, her mind and demands intact and she could speak about the service aboard cruise lines as I could tell you where to find the best deal on hot dogs. She came with a short list of foods she would eat and an even longer list of those she would not. It was challenging for the volunteers who cooked in the kitchen and I tried to help them as much as possible to not become discouraged by difficult demands and critiques.

    One morning after hearing the food stories of the previous day, I noticed that potato pancakes were on Dot’s “will eat” list and I thought of my deceased grandmother who had made them from scratch. Surely, I reasoned, scratch potato pancakes would calm Dot’s critical tongue, so I tied on a ruffled apron and got to work. I fancied myself on an episode of Iron Chef and put my heart and soul into 3 perfectly cooked pancakes. Feeling flush with satisfaction, I covered them with the tenderness of a new mother and brought them down to her room. She was looking out the window as I knocked.

    “Good morning,” I chirped as she fixed me with eyes of steel. “I have something special for you, Dot.”

    “What is it?” she growled, a big cat cornered in our prettily decorated trap.

    I gently removed the cover, exposing my precious gift as I approached her tray table. “Potato pancakes, I made them just for you,” I said, breathless, waiting for that appreciative look I’d come to crave.

    Dot looked at me then down at the plate. She inspected the pancakes as though they were secretly holding explosives and then she looked back at me. “Take them away,” she said with a wave of her hand.”Everybody with any sense knows you put black pepper in potato pancakes.” With that her gaze turned to the window again. I was dismissed.

    Crushed like a flower beneath the stampeding herd, I headed back to the kitchen and scraped the three chef worthy pancakes into the garbage. I continued my day, the sting of rejection clouding my happiness.

    I packaged that experience and unwrapped it later at home, letting my thoughts go anywhere they wanted. Why was she so ornery? Why couldn’t she just acknowledge my gift for what it was? Why did this hurt? Why do I bother?

    Then, a prick of sunlight set itself on the dusty diamond. I began to ask myself these questions: Why did I assume she wanted those pancakes without my asking? Why did I cook them for her in the first place? Why, if I wanted to be of service, was this about me and my feelings?

    From that day on, I tried to be better at focusing on the client and by extension, any volunteer or friend or family member or staff member instead of myself. I began to ask more questions and listen less to my voice. I began to free myself from personalizing everything.

    When I would help out in the kitchen and take an order from a patient, I would ask them, “how do you want that prepared?” It’s amazing how many ways you can prepare toast, for instance-white, wheat, rye, pumpernickel, lightly toasted, toasted dark, dry or with butter or olive oil, whole or cut into two or four, rectangular or triangle-shaped, with or without jelly or peanut butter or honey or chocolate or maybe hummus. But the point was to give the person what they wanted without making them feel like a burden or without a self congratulating experience.

    I have been fortunate over the years to be humbled again and again, especially at times when I started to think that I just knew more than everybody else.

    Humility is one vastly underrated quality. It instills a sense of peace and curiosity and just might make someone like Dot feel a heck of a lot less captured.

    And oh, I now make potato pancakes with black pepper in them, because everybody knows that’s the way you do it.

    -Meridian

  • The Two Forks and Timing

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    Icebreakers: I could never really get the hang of using them at the first meeting when training hospice volunteers. I usually got eye rolls and polite “oh here we go” smiles so I opted for a more conversational start to training new volunteers who had real expectations for a serious mission.

    I did however, develop a few exercises of my own that I introduced into the middle of volunteer training. Admittedly, these were often self entertaining and helped keep me engaged and I tried to deliver them with a twinkle so that the volunteers understood that the subject at hand was not just about doom and gloom. Hopefully they saw a lighter, quirkier side that prepared them to view patients and families with appreciation for the diverse and sometimes absurd situations that might arise.
    forks2

    One exercise for a small group was “two forks.” I asked the volunteers to arrange two identical forks in any setting they wanted. I told them to just arrange them on the table however they envisioned them at the moment. After the volunteers arranged the two forks, I would “interpret” their arrangement with phrases such as, “you are very open minded” or “you are extremely creative.” Teens especially liked this exercise. They would smile wryly and mentally call me out on my “game” but they would play anyway and seemed to enjoy the spoof of psychological testing. (I always did “fess up” and tell the volunteers that it was all made up) But then we would seriously discuss volunteering with various personalities and how to best connect with folks.
    forks

    Another exercise that I used in group training was the personality test. I downloaded a simple quick personality test with broad results and tweaked the questions to represent volunteering scenarios. I asked the volunteers to record their answers on their paper and then tally up their score. I then read the “results” according to the score ranges. For instance, those with a score within 10-20 were introspective while 90-100 were very outgoing.

    But I added my own twist to the test results. I made up silly outcomes for each personality type based on volunteering with a patient or family member such as, “it is said that this personality type because of their bubbly personality ends up talking so much about their recent family cruise that the family member actually experiences seasickness.”

    About halfway through the result reading, the shocked looks turned to laughter and relief. “Oh you got us,” the volunteers would say. But it wasn’t just for comedy relief. We then went on to discuss the different ways a well meaning volunteer could over step their boundaries and reiterated how to keep active listening in mind. Those were productive conversations.

    One thing I did learn in years of training was that timing is everything. Acting wacky or introducing quirky subjects too soon destroys the trainer’s credibility. Once trust and sincerity is established, then comedy relief and diverse teaching methods will be much more readily accepted. The same goes for introducing deep subjects. Volunteers have to be ready in order to really digest profound information.

    My barometer of a class’ comfort level was always predicated on the day the class got up and freely helped themselves to coffee and snacks while chatting warmly with one another. It usually took two sessions to establish that level of comfort and trust. (I always taught six 3 1/2 hour sessions for initial orientation).

    But once that comfort level was achieved, then I could introduce really fun activities, and on the flip side, speakers with really deep and profound experiences to share. Classes laughed and cried, but only after we all felt really safe with each other. Honestly, those intimate moments with new volunteers are memories so precious to me, I can’t even begin to describe them. How fortunate I am to have them.

    Yes, timing is everything. Volunteers look to us to illuminate the way and we should be honored to own that responsibility. Providing volunteers with deep meaning enhanced with light and laughter takes some sense of timing. But when you get it just about right, it fills your soul with the most amazing moments.
    forks4

    Training volunteers creates a bond with them from the very beginning. We neither have to be just ultra serious nor just silly and entertaining. We only need to make them comfortable and care that they learn and feel a part of our team. This sincerity paves the way for the information you want to present.

    So, don’t be afraid to have some fun.(When the timing is right of course) Arrange your own two forks, create a personality test, make up an icebreaker and watch the magic happen!

    -Meridian

     

  • “It’s Good to Remember, Remember With You”

    With his permission granted, I want to share a song written several years ago by Michael Becker, a talented singer and songwriter who strove to capture the connections volunteers make with folks suffering from dementia and Alzheimer’s disease. Mike spent many years not only volunteering with people at end of life but also inspiring new volunteers to follow their hearts.  I’ve been humbled witnessing Mike playing his song for patients, caregivers, family members and volunteers who quietly relate to that difficult journey through memory loss. As Mike says, “I’m just grateful to be able to share my experiences through my music.”

    Please enjoy

    -Meridian

     

     

     

  • Volunteers: The Quiet Why

    hands

    But it was Mary, Mary
    Long before the fashions came
    And there is something there that sounds so square
    It’s a grand old name….

    Cohan George M. – Mary’s A Grand Old Name, 1906

    Ralph, a volunteer for a hospice in-patient unit sat in the metal chair by the bedside of 97 year old Mary. Her wisps of white hair blended in perfectly with the assortment of pillows that supported her frail head and body. Ralph was holding her gaze, his brown eyes searching her blue eyes for clues. Her eyes were magnified in their sharpness by the lined and hollow face they stared out from and Ralph was determined to connect with her.

    “Should I hold her hand?” he thought internally and was afraid. A strange man touching a woman might be perceived improper. “I want to stroke her head,” he thought but pulled his hand back. That was too forward.

    He stared harder, drawn into her being and thought of her life. At 97, alone and childless, her husband long dead, what gave her life meaning? She was born almost a century ago, forty years before he took his first breath. What was her world then, and if she was going in and out of that era as the staff told him, what was she thinking about now?

    Suddenly he remembered a song his father would sing to his mother, who was also named Mary and he began to quietly sing, tentatively at first, the lyrics gliding over and under his gaze. “For it is Mary, Mary, plain as any name can be.”

    Those blue eyes widened and recognition rushed back to meet him. Ralph sang on softly, “But it was Mary, Mary, long before the fashions came…” Now, caution gone, he held her hand and thought he felt the murmur of a squeeze. Mary’s lips stirred, trying to sing with him. It didn’t matter to Ralph that he had always been told his singing was awful. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember all the lyrics correctly, he sang on, to her, to his beloved Mother, to all the Mary’s that ever lived.

    Tears shimmered over the blue eyes in a pool of kinship. For a brief moment he imagined he could see his mother’s eyes looking back at him.

    Then the eyes grew weary and closed. Mary’s slight frame relaxed into a peaceful sleep. Ralph let go of her hand and tiptoed out from the room. A nurse was standing in the doorway, wiping tears from her cheek.

    Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Ralph nodded at the nurse and left her to attend to Mary. He gathered his things and left the in-patient unit. He had errands to run. As he walked out the door, he sang softly, under his breath, “and there is something there, that sounds so square, it’s a grand old name.”

    -Meridian