Volunteering for a Food Drive Essay -- Contribution to My Community Ser

Volunteering for a Food DriveIm hungry. Lets get or sothing to eat before we go. It was nigh ten oclock on a Saturday morning. Normally my parents might govern me in bed or playing on the computer at this time, provided I was dressed and grasping the doorknob in our kitchen on this busy morning. I felt a s set approximately wave of hunger hang finished my body, so I suggested to my mother that we have a light mid-morning snack to tide us over before lunch. I searched through a water closet and found some crackers to take with us. It was red ink to be a hard day, and although I knew the flock at the church service would probably bring snacks and refreshments for us, I wanted to be sure that I had a full stomach on which to work. I wouldnt realize the current meaning of hunger, however, until my day of work on the postal workers fare mystify was done. My mother helped out at various times throughout the form at volunteer events in the community. When I was born, she pass ed a few of her traits to me, and I, too, became arouse in volunteering. I spent a day each pass going down to my grandmothers church and helping out with a summer fair by selling items and collecting money for the church. As momma started to talk about the postal workers food drive for the local food cupboard, I was anxious to help out in my own community. The theme fascinated me, helping out my neighbors by collecting and dispersing food to where it was needed. I knew Id feel just like Robin Hoodtaking from the plentiful and giving to the poor. In this case, though, all of the process was voluntary. My impression of hunger and famishment was limited in the past to the memorable television commercials for UNICEF and the childrens funds nigh the world. I never realized that hunger might occur nearer to home. I certainly never thought that anyone within my neighborhood or my town would be hungry. Mom drove us to where the food cupboard was located, at the Congregational chur ch. As I entered in to the large brush room downstairs at the church, I was met by around viii smiling residents of our town. A few of them were older ladies a couple of them were middle-aged men. I would come to know them better as my visit slip by at the church. I was unsure and a bit nervous at first. I hadnt visited the church since my elementary grades during which I discloseicipated in a weeklong summer Bible school. I... ...t to help out my neighbors. But a part of me still firesided despair. Most of this food would be used by the next food drive in about six months. I could tho compare it to when I was a child, seeing an ambulance rush by my house I wasnt sure whether to think that psyche was hurt or that someone was helping. Now I wasnt sure if I should think of the suffering mortal or the people who helped by donating food. My hope was that the people needing help would influence it partially because of my assistance. But I knew there would be some that, for so me reason or another, declined to have the assistance. They were still suffering. By the end of the day, my study of hunger had completely changed. After my help, I sometimes wondered about the people who really needed food whenever I was grabbing a bite to eat. I sometimes worried about the people who were too afraid or too proud to seek help. And I sometimes thought about the time when I was the driver of the ambulance. From then on, I searched through the cupboards to find extra cans that we could donate during the food drives. And when it was ten in the morning and I needed something to eat, I reconsidered how hungry I really felt.