The Volunteering Week

She continually seemed to stare at nothing even when people passed by her. One could notice her sunken eyes and her swollen eyelids. Her children would play round and laugh as they ran around. They appeared happy; possibly due to the fact they were around their mother. However, one could inform that they wished that their lives were different. They always jumped up when a car parked without them. They would rush and try to borrow some food or money. Some people would assist them out while some rushed off when they saw them approaching. The mother would watch at a distance and at instances hide behind their belongings. I noticed the homeless family when my parents and I moved to a new town. My father had received a job promotion and my mum being a house wife, had nothing holding her back. Her major commitment was the book club that she attended every Saturday (an activity that she hoped to engage in with our new neighbors). I was sad that I had to leave my friends and begin afresh but then again, the internet was a savior in such situations as we could communicate either through texting or video chats.

What might be the family’s story? Do they have a father? Do they have any relatives? Those were the questions that always crossed my mind whenever I saw them. “It is important to try to make a difference in people’s lives regardless of the little that you can afford”, my history teacher stated in class during the voluntary week. The voluntary week was a school event that took place every term whereby each student was expected to take part in an activity that helped those who are in need. “I know of a family whom I am sure we could really help out”, I told Grace who sat behind me in class. I told her of the woman and her children and how miserable they were. Both of us embarked on a mission to collect clothes, food stuffs, personal items and anything that we could find in order to help the family. We even went to the extent of saving our lunch money and use it to buy bread and milk and take to them daily for the whole volunteering week. “Amy and Grace!” The children would shout whenever they saw us approaching them. The mother would be in tears whenever she received what we had brought.

I remember being unable to sleep one rainy night. I could see the family’s faces as they tried to find shelter and protecting their beddings from getting wet. Surprisingly, Grace and her mother drove past my house the following morning. “You couldn’t sleep either?” Grace asked as I walked into the car. Something amazing happened that day. Apparently, Grace’s parents were philanthropist and worked with welfare organizations that catered for the needy. Grace had told her mother about the homeless family such that she decided to take them in and look for help and a nice home for them. The woman cried as soon as we told her the news. “I cried out to God for a miracle yesterday night and now here you are,” the woman said while hugging me tightly. The children just stared at us unaware of the change that was going to take place in their lives.