One might consider a moonlit walk along the beach relaxing.  Others, while dreaming of the perfect place, envision sitting in a meadow of wildflowers with the sun rising behind a majestic peak.  My place of serenity and comfort is quite unusual in comparison; my ideal place is actually in the basement of an old church.  Most people wouldn’t understand why my happy place is in a basement, but I’m sure if they had the chance to experience “The Caring Place” as I have, they would agree that it is a special place.    

          I started volunteering at “The Caring Place,” a soup kitchen set up in the basement of a local church, two years ago.  My heart beat rapidly at the thought of stepping through those doors for the first time.  The church is in a rough part of town and the leaders advised us not to wander around outside alone.  I wasn’t worried about what would happen outside; however, the source of my anxiety stemmed from what I would encounter inside.  I wondered what had transpired in these people’s lives to bring them here.  I worried they may be mean or unstable.  Various possible scenarios raced through my head for days beforehand, but despite my apprehension, I found the courage to open the door to the church. 

An electric feeling of anticipation filled the air as many people lined up anxiously awaiting a warm meal and a hot cup of coffee.  After the other volunteers and I set up the tables and prepared the food, the doors opened and a steady stream of hungry people filed in until every last seat in the spacious dining hall was filled.  While serving drinks, I was amazed to see the expressions on their faces change from gloomy to hopeful.  Even though I was not the head of the operation, I still felt like an important part of it.  They all seemed very grateful for our help, saying that a warm meal and a caring smile made them feel human again.

          After that first night, I returned to “The Caring Place” with a new found confidence.  “The Caring Place” not only offered comfort to those seeking assistance, but also became a place of comfort and reflection for me.  One night, during the Christmas dinner, there was a raffle.  When the winner received her prize, toilet paper, I realized many people are just barely getting by.  Our patrons do not care about materialistic things like designer purses, name-brand jeans, or $500 prom dresses their daddies bought them.  Their minds are on other things like where they will sleep tonight or if they will get to eat tomorrow.  Seeing the lady’s face light up with pure joy when she won the toilet paper really put things into perspective for me.  It humbled me to see just how many people are in a bad place in their lives. 

Volunteering has changed my life.  It has helped me open my eyes and my heart to the struggles many families face.  Stepping through those church doors has made me more outgoing, independent, and appreciative of the things in my own life.  I always feel content when I leave “The Caring Place”; there is a special place in my heart for those pushing through life’s struggles.