A Jack of All Trades and a Master of None

Before we left campus at the end of October, staff at HQ told us to expect this round to feel much slower than the previous two months spent all-cylinders-firing in Baton Rouge. It was to be expected that free of the high stress environment which simultaneously compelled, strained and nurtured us, we would have far more leisure time to focus on our own development. Hence the unofficial status of Round Two as the “life after AmeriCorps” round.

It’s proven true. We generally work eight to nine hour days. We have access to a full, well stocked kitchen right downstairs – continually supplemented with goodies supplied by the ever generous Methodist women – showers just seconds from our sleeping quarters and deliciously long, full two day weekends. Apart from a few grueling days spent turning churned up, frozen fields of clay into respectable yards­, the work is challenging enough to be satisfying but not exhausting.

This leaves us with quite a bit of time to focus on what comes next. This December will mark the halfway point of our 10 months of service. With only about five months to go, the reality that this program is not in fact an indefinite suspension of normal life is beginning to set in. I’ve always found it odd to be planning the next adventure while still living its precursor, but that’s the way life goes. To stand still is to become complacent, and complacency is a dangerous thing.

It would be wrong to say I have no idea what I want to do next because I have a list a mile long  – but I have no sense of certainty, no compelling cause to devote myself to without reserve, no overarching goal that drives my every action. Some people my age do have these things. Others have energy and a wealth of distracting hobbies. Some have no desire to do anything other than watch YouTube subscriptions. Personally, I want a cause.

I’ve met too many people in these past five months who clearly have a cause emblazoned on their hearts not to want the same for myself. People who travel hundreds of miles or just a mile down the road to do something kind for someone in need. People who sacrifice their weekends, vacation time, and restful retirement to give someone else another chance to have what they themselves are giving up. People who work 80 hours a week so someone who has lost everything can eat Thanksgiving dinner with their family in a safe, warm place that they can call their own. People who after all their labors, after all their own trials and weariness, far from becoming embittered by their efforts will break into goofy smiles and laughter or burst into tears like children who can’t contain their joy as they see smiles on the faces of those for whom they’ve labored. How could I watch something like this and not want to be a part of it?

At least until April 27^th, I am part of it as a small portion of the substantial force for good that is AmeriCorps. However, sometimes – well ok, most of the time – I get so caught up in the doing of whatever needs done that I forget to sit back and think about the deeper meaning behind it. Baton Rouge was an extreme example; many days were at their core a grim, grey grind for the idea of a worthy cause with almost no time to stand back and really let myself feel the why and the who of my labors.

Rainelle is much different. Since our schedule and housing have been so much more stable during this project than during our previous deployment, we’ve had a chance to slow down and take a closer look at what we are doing here and who we are doing it for. Working in such a small community has allowed me to connect on a deeper level with the people we serve and to see beyond their current need to the lives they are fighting to rebuild for their neighbors and for themselves. Natives and non-natives alike have come together to work hard for a period of time in service of something bigger than themselves. While they find fulfillment in their efforts, taking that same ethic of service back to their normal lives as cubicle dwellers, teachers or coal miners brings them just as much joy. The experience has changed my idea of what a successful life of service looks like.

Service isn't necessarily represented by a list of quantifiables - numbers of flooded homes gutted, volunteers coordinated, sheets of drywall hung. It doesn't need to look like a resume filled with accolades attaching your name to the design of lifesaving inventions, orchestration of peace treaties or creation of multi-national non-profits. While these are all worthy achievements, they're not the only or perhaps even the best way to go about a good life. In short, I guess I learned something that to many might seem obvious, but which only experience could teach me. That is, you don't have to save the world to live a good life. You just have to care about the people within your reach, however wide that is. Some days you might only be able to reach down the block, or across the table, and that's ok.

Thanks for following along! Til next time,

Danny

P.S. Most of these photos are courtesy of my teammates. If it's a good photo or if I'm in it, it's probably not mine.

Our team leader Shane removing insulation soaked with 5 month old floodwater from a dark, dank crawlspace. I managed to avoid this job. I'm a little jealous (it's a great story) but mostly pretty cool with it.

Our project on Thanksgiving Day

Carlos mourns the loss of  this painting to the art world. All sorts of strange things washed into this field during the flood, including a full box spring and a ridiculously heavy commercial ice chest from a nearby gas station.

Sky and Lindsey in Tyveks for a morning of mucking and gutting

Hanging drywall is fun. Hanging dryceiling, not so much.

Mark is a park ranger and self taught builder who used his vacation week to come down to Rainelle and help out. He spent an afternoon teaching us how to build a porch.

Jessica moving lumber at the Town Hall warehouse. When you're building 20 homes at once, you don't order wood by 10, 20 or even by the rackful. You order it by the butt-ton. We've moved a lot of lumber.

Devin spending some quality time with a little girl at a local animal shelter's adoption day. All but two of the dogs and 30 out of 45-ish cats found homes, a happy ending for the influx of displaced pets after the flood.

Delta One's Thanksgiving feast. $4.75 per person per day can actually go a long way.

Dmac and Sedrick serving desserts at a community Thanksgiving Dinner the day before

We seeded and hayed the acre of land this and 7 other new homes were built on. There was a sleet storm that day and the entire lot was an ocean of mud. I made a less than voluntary mud-angel on one the steeper hills.

A recruiting event at a local community college. Nobody wanted to talk to us, but at least we looked spiffy.

Ribbon cutting at a moving dedication ceremony for several brand new volunteer-built, donation-funded homes given to flood survivors

Obligatory sunset photo

Is it Christmas break yet?