Service-Learning Log 1 -- Shaun Snowden

I did everything that I could not to build up my expectations for my service activity. I had already heard the “disappointing” experiences that others had had. I walked into Project Angels Heart’s facilities on Saturday devoid of anything. I was a clean slate, ready to have the experience affect me, or not affect me. This was the best way to approach this project.

We arrived at noon. The whole process was relatively informal. I read over the expectations and signed a couple of forms, but it was all kept at a level that suggested that we were all in this together. There was no authority figure that said, “this is what you need to do and this is how you are going to do it.” There was only a kind faced woman who said, “I just need you to sign here and here. We need this information from you. Here is your route and thank you very much.”

We took the meals from the building ourselves and loaded them into my car. There was a light packet that had a route laid out for the best path for delivery. We made it to the first house with only a little bit of confusion. It was a white house with a lavender garage, decorated with a mural. I knocked on the door and awaited an answer. When the woman answered the door, I handed her the bags and we merely exchanged thank yous. Then it was on to the next house. There was no enlightenment, no greater sense of being. There was only a small sense of fulfillment, like I was doing my small part to help out the greater good. I did get a better perspective on my own life as well. Some of these people had impaired mobility and could barely move. Others were devoid of any happiness. There was an overlaying sense of desperation in these houses, as though there was no hope left. This helped me assess my situation and myself. I do not have a lot, but I do have my health. I am able to provide for myself and take care of myself. Each house passed in a similar matter. Ring the doorbell, drop of the bags, and then we went on our way to the next house. We exchanged simple formalities; or at times, we said nothing more than, “we are here delivering food.” There would be contact for 30 seconds, or maybe less. It was extremely impersonal.

I also found that I took something else from this experience. Shouldn’t this be what community service is all about? If we are truly doing this for the benefit of others, should we get anything out of the experience ourselves? This type of service goes back to a sense of duty. I assisted an organization in order for them to function for the betterment of people in need. Since I have a degree of privilege, I should help those who do not have the same benefits that I do. It was the least I could do. I donated three hours of my day in order to give others a sense of hope. I helped provide a consistent source of nourishment, something set by a schedule, something that they could count on from week to week. I did not make a profound difference, but I did help, and that is all that I can hope for.