“Can the kids have some candy?”
“Is it alright for them to have this?”
“Excuse me, can I give the kids a sucker?”
I snap back to the present, realizing I’ve been lost in thought while someone speaks to me. “Oh gosh,” I chuckle awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”
“Is it okay if I give the kids a sucker?” the volunteer at the food pantry repeats. Looking down, I see my children’s eager brown eyes, their anticipation evident.
After a quick scan of the ingredient list to ensure it’s gluten-free and dairy-free, I manage to say, “Um, yeah, that’s fine, thanks,” hoping my tone conveys gratitude and conceals my inner embarrassment.
It’s Saturday morning, the sun is shining, and here I am, waiting in line at the food pantry—the same one where I once volunteered. However, following my husband’s departure, I find myself not as a helper but as someone in need, praying they don’t run out of diapers before I reach the front. I’m not the volunteer anymore; I’ve changed.
Three years ago, I would never have envisioned this scenario. I had always been the one giving back—volunteering at the food pantry, helping at animal shelters, teaching Sunday School, and participating in missions. My goal was to support others because it felt meaningful and right.
Now, after enduring a difficult marriage and experiencing abandonment, I am on the receiving end of kindness. I feel different, sometimes unrecognizable.
If I ever thought volunteer work was challenging, being a recipient is an entirely new experience. The satisfaction that comes from helping others dissipates when you find yourself in need. Today, I feel inadequate, burdensome, and like a failure.
While I know this phase is temporary, and I’m committed to building a better life for my children, today I feel defeated. I am ashamed that I cannot provide more for my kids, who look up at me with hope and love. Standing in line at the food pantry is the best I can do today. I have dragged my sleepy children from their beds just as dawn breaks. My greatest achievement today is reaching out for help.
I used to be a part of this community as a volunteer, but today I’m just a mom striving to care for my two most precious treasures.
As we finally reach the front of the line, I’m relieved to find they still have diapers available. We gather our food box, toiletries, and diapers before slowly making our way back to the car. Buckling the kids into their seats, I see their joy as they exclaim, “Thanks, Mommy! Thanks for letting us have a sucker!”
They have no idea of the struggle behind this moment, and it pains me. I was once the volunteer, and now I’m not.
I feel uncertain about what comes next. I’m unsure how to progress from here. The only certainty is that I need help to ensure my children are cared for.
In their eyes, I see a new meaning to volunteerism. Volunteers are those who selflessly give to assist others. Yes, my dear children, I will give what I can to support you. I will set aside my pride and defenses to ensure your well-being.
Maybe, in my own way, I’m not so different after all.
For those exploring similar journeys, consider reading more about home insemination options in our related blog post here. Resources like Resolve offer excellent information as well. If you’re interested in home insemination kits, check out the At Home Insemination Kit or the Cryobaby Home Insemination Kit for further guidance.
In summary, what was once a life of volunteering has transformed into one of receiving and learning. This journey has reshaped my understanding of community and support.
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