Statistics help illustrate a story, but they are not The Story.
As Andy Goodman writes (and I just can’t stop quoting, it is that good):
Even if you have reams of evidence on your side, remember: numbers numb, jargon jars, and nobody ever marched on Washington because of a pie chart. If you want to connect with your audience, tell them a story.
Yet so often, we try to convince by “professionalizing” and de-personalizing. We try to convince with authority – numbers, statistics, studies, surveys and powerpoint presentations – rather than authenticity.
We want to convince you that volunteering is good for your community – and you.
And so “we” tell you the statistics. We tell who’s doing it, and how much of it, and how many volunteer organizations depend on it.
And sure, that’s part of the story.
But there are many more stories to be told.
Your stories.
Rich, personal stories. Stories of
- people discovering their passions, and meaning, when they start volunteering
- people who retire and discover a greater sense of purpose after they start volunteering
- families volunteering together
- people volunteering their skills in existing organizations and roles
- people starting “accidental non-profits” when they adopt a school or a community and fund-raise to support it
- people quietly helping out their neighbours, “just because”
- mothers, daughters and grand-daughters volunteering together
Stories of community. Stories of self. Stories of discovery.
And those are the stories we want to tell.
So that’s what we’re doing with the Retiree Storytelling Project: we’re connecting with people who’ve retired and found meaning and purpose in the joys of volunteering. (If you’ve got a story to tell, let us know in the comments below!)
But we’re not exclusively about retiree volunteerism. We’re Community Volunteer Connections, after all. “Volunteer” is right there in our name. So if you’ve got a volunteer story to tell, let’s connect.
And that’s what Lindsey Mead did. Lindsey shared her story about the importance of volunteering in her life.
For Lindsey, volunteerism has threaded its way through the tapestry of her life and sometimes been a shining light in times of personal darkness.
Lindsey’s story toggles back and forth from young adulthood, to motherhood, to volunteering together with her (retired) mother and her daughter, to how she wants her children to know, intimately, what a gift volunteering can be for both your community, and yourself.
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Starting Something Important
by Lindsey Mead
Yesterday Gracie, my mother and I volunteered two hours at Cradles to Crayons.
The organization collects new and gently used clothing, books, toys, and gear for families who cannot afford these things for their own children. The three of us spent our time sorting clothes and assembling packages of a week’s worth of clothing in various sizes.
It was enjoyable, though somewhat abstract for Grace.
It’s one level removed from what I’d like – and what I’d really like is to find a soup kitchen where I can bring a 5 year old and we can volunteer together. I’d like for my daughter to connect with the people she’s “helping” and discover, in a tangible way, that who’s she’s most helping might be herself.
It’s really important to me that both children are exposed, early and often, to volunteerism.
I firmly believe that we who have so much need to give our money and our time to help those who have less. It is the time piece of this that is often neglected, and I believe it adamantly. No matter how big a cheque you write, I think we all benefit from hands-on experience helping those who need it.
I have vivid memories of spending Christmas morning delivering Meals on Wheels with my family in London. Later, when I was at university, I started volunteering at Rainbow House, a home for HIV positive teenage mothers in Trenton. By my senior year I was on the board of the Student Volunteers Council, the group that organizes all the service efforts on campus. This was a marvelous group of people, quite removed from the core of my university experience, and I’m glad to have known them. It’s how I met my friend Melissa, for one thing, who has become so important to me.
During those years, however, I fell in love with the homeless vets. During that time, which I recall as a dark time (my grandmother and Susie Vogt were both dying protracted and painful deaths, I took a leave of absence from work, I had just broken up with a lovely man because I knew he was not the one, etc) I spent about one evening a week at the shelter.
I really grew attached to the place. The men were warm and friendly, they quickly knew me, and I felt like I was cheering them up. It was a haven.
Since having my children, Grace and Whit, I haven’t been as consistent as I would like about continuing to find ways to participate in service.
That changes now, as I feel the strong motivation of desire to introduce my children to a life of awareness, sensitivity, and generosity.
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Lindsey’s story resonates because it illustrates an odd truth about generosity: when we contribute to our communities, we help ourselves, too. Volunteering really is good for the soul.
(If being “selfless” is “selfish” (?!) then bring on the selfish selflessness! Our communities need it, and us.)
This simple, paradoxical truth might be the most surprising and contradictory thing about “volunteering”: altruism delivers intense personal rewards.
When you volunteer, you almost always get more than you give.
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When I was in high school, I was in a youth group. I joined mostly bc a couple of my good girlfriends were in it and I didnt want to be alone on Friday nights. When we were in gr 8, our Youth Leader signed us up to be helpers at a St. Vincet De Paul Christmas party. I silently protested. It was early on a Saturday morning and I would rather have been sleeping. I was also young and ignorant. I didnt realize the ripple effect a few hours of volunteering would have on so many people.
I was in charge of manning a craft table. It was simple, and yet so much more. The families that St Vincent provided for had nothing. This yearly party was the closest thing to Christmas that these kids would have, and being part of it was priceless, and truly humbling. I remember sitting there handing out the glitter glue and stickers and watching in awe as these children dedicated some serious time to their masterpieces, and thinking how something so simple as making crafts could literally make someone’s year.
For 5 years I watched happy children make crafts, dance to Christmas music, eat sweets and get a visit from Santa. Even more ecstatic were their parents. Without the volunteers at St Vincent De Paul, these parents would have had nothing to give their children, and Christmas would have been much less of a celebration. Every Christmas I think about my few hours spent volunteering and marvel at how such minimal time can be so priceless for everyone involved.