My least favorite part
People have asked me before what my favorite and least favorite parts of my job are. Neither one has ever been easy to answer because I love most everything about what I do, but I think after 2 years I have finally settled on my least favorite part. I arrived at the realization when one of the youth from the Mayer group asked me as he was helping me hang soffet, "How can you resist playing with the kids all the time?" I stumbled through some answer about how I know I can come back whenever I want so I don't have to spend every feasible second with them, but the truth hit me.
My least favorite part of my job is having to be the responsible one.
I know that I am 24 now and on the flip side of servant events, and I get that. I don't mind having to man the cash flow, log mileage in the vans, track volunteer hours, let Rita know about food allergies, and whatever else I had no idea went on behind the scenes of my church group coming down every year. It's more just that I used to be that kid who spent more time reading to and coloring with the neighborhood kids than anything else, counting the number of nails that I pounded on one hand. I loved practicing my Spanish by learning everything about them and their families, and would get teary-eyed when we had to leave on the last day. But my concerns now have shifted to things like ensuring that we are in the bridge line by dark, overseeing work projects so that we finish on schedule more often than not, continually picking up stray tools, taking newsletter- and website-worthy photos, keeping track of who I gave the van keys to last, counting heads to make sure everyone is present, etc., and I honestly think that has robbed me of some of the joy I used to experience. I still love the kids with their incessant energy and innocent smiles, don't get me wrong. But this week especially I found myself immune to the pleas for a piggyback ride when there was siding to be nailed on, to the tenderness of scribbled notes when we couldn't find the drywall screws, to the tearful goodbyes when it was already past 5:00. And I hated it.
I don't think the elation that a hug from a barefoot kid wearing the same too-small clothes he or she has been wearing all week can inspire is gone for good, it's just taken a backseat to some adult concerns for the time being. This has been on my mind for a couple days now, and I felt it would be beneficial to put in writing. I still love what I do, there are just unforeseen downsides to being in charge of an outfit like YLM servant events. But for the record, I CAN go to Anapra whenever I want, and I will never get over how cool that is :)
Until next time, blessings!
My least favorite part of my job is having to be the responsible one.
I know that I am 24 now and on the flip side of servant events, and I get that. I don't mind having to man the cash flow, log mileage in the vans, track volunteer hours, let Rita know about food allergies, and whatever else I had no idea went on behind the scenes of my church group coming down every year. It's more just that I used to be that kid who spent more time reading to and coloring with the neighborhood kids than anything else, counting the number of nails that I pounded on one hand. I loved practicing my Spanish by learning everything about them and their families, and would get teary-eyed when we had to leave on the last day. But my concerns now have shifted to things like ensuring that we are in the bridge line by dark, overseeing work projects so that we finish on schedule more often than not, continually picking up stray tools, taking newsletter- and website-worthy photos, keeping track of who I gave the van keys to last, counting heads to make sure everyone is present, etc., and I honestly think that has robbed me of some of the joy I used to experience. I still love the kids with their incessant energy and innocent smiles, don't get me wrong. But this week especially I found myself immune to the pleas for a piggyback ride when there was siding to be nailed on, to the tenderness of scribbled notes when we couldn't find the drywall screws, to the tearful goodbyes when it was already past 5:00. And I hated it.
I don't think the elation that a hug from a barefoot kid wearing the same too-small clothes he or she has been wearing all week can inspire is gone for good, it's just taken a backseat to some adult concerns for the time being. This has been on my mind for a couple days now, and I felt it would be beneficial to put in writing. I still love what I do, there are just unforeseen downsides to being in charge of an outfit like YLM servant events. But for the record, I CAN go to Anapra whenever I want, and I will never get over how cool that is :)
Until next time, blessings!
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