Working at a homeless shelter was one of the best decisions I have ever made
These were the words that constantly echoed throughout my house the weeks leading up to the summer before my senior year. Despite my protests, my mother remained adamant about this. I was to spend my summer working.
Now, I’m sure many of you, especially parents of teens, would say she was doing the right thing, and while I am inclined to agree, at the time I insisted on going down kicking and screaming. Eventually, however, I accepted my fate and began the job search.
What job did I end up picking? Well, if I wasn’t going to be allowed to spend my summer sleeping all day, I was going do something that I was proud of: I chose to work at a homeless shelter (Father’s Heart Street Ministry).
If I am going to be completely honest, on my first day at the shelter, I thought I made a massive mistake. As soon as I entered, I was met with:
- A smell so foul it made the hairs on my arm stand,
- A nonstop banging of pans and pots,
- And a sight that appeared to be what I could only describe as never-ending chaos.
What I expected I am not totally sure, but needless to say, it was not this.
I was introduced to my boss, who seemed to be working on 3 tasks simultaneously, and with no time wasted on formalities, I was given my first job: walking around with the cereal cart and taking orders.
Now, I won’t bore you with the intricacies of what it’s like to hand out cereal, but what I will say is that slowly, with every new bowl, I was beginning to enjoy work more and more.
Yes, of course it’s fulfilling to help out, but this wasn’t the reason the job grew on me so much. Slowly, I began to realize that behind every not-so-perfect smile and thank you, there was a story.
Over time, as I began sitting down with my own bowl of cereal next to the clients, I got to actually see them as more than just the people I was there serving. For example, there was a guy (Theo) who insisted on showing everyone a picture of a coffin. Well, it turns out that growing up, he had abusive parents, and so he would seek refuge in the only place that wouldn’t kick him out for soliciting: the cemetery. For Theo, coffins represented a safe space.
Then there was a man that people were too nervous to approach because he was covered from head to toe in tattoos. His name was Sammy, an U.S. vet who faced some challenges upon returning from his service. And yet, to this day, he is still one of nicest guys I have ever met. With every new face, was a new and unique story, and cereal was how I got to hear those stories.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, I came into work the first day with a hero complex. I thought I was doing a great thing by “giving back to the community.” And yes, while I was helping others, I realized there was truly no difference between me and them. Sure, some of them made decisions in their lives I would not recommend, but so many of them had also just fallen on hard times. Whatever their stories may be, there was nothing special about me because I was the one on the other side of the counter. Working at the homeless shelter was one of the best decisions I ever made, and I am grateful every day to my mom for pushing me to do so.
I used to think I was there to give people something they needed. Instead, I learned that sometimes, all it takes to see someone differently is a bowl of cereal and a few minutes to listen.
Pavely is a senior at Jesuit High School. In his free time, he likes to volunteer, read, travel, and play basketball. He is also part of his school’s student government.
