Reaching Out

During my freshmen and sophomore year of high school I was highly active in St. Thecla's youth group. The youth group opened many doors in my life because it introduced me to a variety of environments and lifestyles. Not only did the group sponsor leisure events such as ski trips, plays, and trips to theme parks, it also sponsored many charitable events such as serving meals at homeless shelters, and wrapping Christmas gifts for needy families at My Brother's Keeper.

I will never forget how nervous I was entering Father Bill's Homeless Shelter. It was the day before Thanksgiving and I had just spent three hours in my church's kitchen preparing a meal to serve at the shelter. Walking through the shelter's door with a large tray of baked potatoes, I did not know what to expect. Coming from a small suburban town I had never actually encountered a "homeless" person. I wondered what they would look like, where they would be from, and why they were living in the shelter.

Following my youth group leader through a large room with tables, chairs, and a TV, I kept my eyes glued on the kitchen door ahead. After placing my tray of potatoes on the kitchen counter I joined other members of the group in mixing the largest bowl of salad I have ever seen. Yet I still had not met any of the shelter's guests and I was growing anxious to do so. I wanted to meet the people I was preparing this meal for, the ones whose day would hopefully seem a bit brighter as a result of our generosity.

After warming up the potatoes, baking the ham, heating the pineapple & sauce, slicing vegetables, and setting the tables, we were ready to serve. As the clock neared five o'clock one by one the guests of the shelter entered the dinning hall. I, along with the other members of my group, was quite pre-occupied with completing last minute preparations and did not notice the crowd of hungry people lining up for our buffet.

"Excuse me miss," a quiet voice spoke, "could you put some of that pineapple sauce on this here?" I looked up to see an older man, maybe in his sixties, smiling at me expectantly. He wore a pair of Levi jeans, which were of fair condition, and a faded blue pullover shirt similar to those I have seen gas station attendants wear.

"Sure!" I exclaimed, pouring a ladle of sauce over his piece of ham.

"Oh, so nice of you dear. It is so nice to see a group of young people such as yourself making the holiday brighter," the man commented, smiling graciously. "Now you have a good holiday," he added, winking at me before moving on to the next server.

"Thank you," I replied, drawing myself into a daze. My heart was lost in thought as it danced to the beat of the man's kind words. When I volunteered to prepare and serve a meal at Father Bill's Homeless Shelter, I had hoped to help someone's holiday become a bit warmer. Ironically, it was my holiday that warmed up. Being a member of St. Thecla's youth group opened my eyes to different issues of the world. It is in once having been part of the youth group that holds most meaning to me. In not only my mind, but also in my heart, I cherish the memories that were created.