Reflective Essay: Why I Volunteer At The Salvation Army

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A few years ago, I heard the quote, “Volunteers don’t necessarily have the time; they simply have the heart.” I had just joined the Anchor Club at my school, and we were discussing service projects and places to volunteer in our area. The Humane Society, Habitat for Humanity, and Meals on Wheels were a few options. I did not feel like those services were for me. I wanted to volunteer with something more suited to my interests. Hearing about the Salvation Army intrigued me; I knew that helping out in the soup kitchen would be perfect for me, and I knew that I could learn respect and patience while helping people in need. The Salvation Army’s mission is, “Doing the Most Good.” It is an organization that helps rebuild broken lives and homes …show more content…

While serving dinner at the Salvation Army, I have seen a plethora of people and personality types. Each person who walks through the doors has a story. They have lives that we know nothing about. We do no not know why the man in the raggedy flannel is homeless, or why the lady with gray hair cannot afford to provide a meal for her son. The thought of this overwhelms me, and it makes me infinitely respect each person that I meet. Although I have never been in a situation where I have been hungry, I try to put myself in the shoes of someone who has. I do not ask people how their day is; I tell them that I hope they have a great day. When asked, “Have you had a good day?” the automatic thing for a person to do is to think about every bad thing that happened that day. These people do not need that. They need to be told of their worth and value. Some people consider the homeless and the poor to be worthless or lazy. After feeding them, I know that that is not true. Most of the people are nice, and they smile back at me. However, there are a few rude people who come through the line. I have been in situations where I wanted to talk to the homeless about random things. I once asked a lady if she wanted an extra helping of potatoes, and she cursed at me. She accused me of being rich, and she felt that I was trying to make myself look good. I was hurt because that was not how I

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