When this becomes your everyday work, it is surprisingly easy to lose sight of why you are doing it. New volunteers have a way of reminding career volunteers like me of the purpose behind the routine. Full transparency: I have spent so much time focused on the what that I drifted away from the why.
Yesterday brought the reminder I needed.
We served two families. One had a tree crash onto their home (now removed under FEMA allowances). The other had limbs, debris, and a fallen tree scattered across their yard. Both needed debris cleared. One needed a large log dissected and taken away. My mind had been wrapped up in logistics: who was showing up, what order we would tackle the jobs, what tools were needed, whether the homeowners were reachable, and how to sequence everything so the day went smoothly.
Then we arrived, worked, shook hands, and moved on to the next site. No fundraising pitch. No sermon. Just service.
After the second job, I noticed one of the volunteers with tears in their eyes. I will not pretend to know exactly why, but it hit me in that moment that what we do is not simply manual labor. It is an act of service for people who cannot do the work themselves and cannot afford to have it done. We show up because someone has to. We show up because it is the right thing to do.
That brief exchange, whether I interpreted it correctly or not, helped ground me again. In the immediate aftermath of Helene, I cried daily. The real, ugly kind. Now I move more quietly and sometimes more mechanically, but yesterday reminded me that the volunteer in me is still there. The heart for this work did not disappear. It was just buried under logistics.
And thanks to the people who showed up yesterday, it resurfaced.