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Volunteering is one of the greatest joys God can give us. For a selfless act of sharing of our time and resources, we are
forever changed and humbled. You could even say we find our own peace through serving others.
When I volunteered at Crossroads church, I was blessed beyond measure. What started out as a way to fill a void in my life,
a way to fill some space and time, turned out to be better than anything I could ever have imagined. It took my eyes off of
myself and turned my direction to others. While I watched children so their mothers could attend a bible study, I didn’t
immediately realize that the children needed to have a special place of their own, too. Some of the children were home-schooled,
and this was their only chance to socialize with other children. Some of the children were off track and dreaded the idea of
three boring hours while their moms had some “me time.” Others were merely along for the ride.
It was during my time at Crossroads, that I met a little boy I will call “Bobby.” Bobby’s dad wasn’t involved in his life and
Bobby had been taken from his mother and placed into foster care. Although Bobby’s foster parents loved him tremendously and
treated him like their own son, Bobby was a very bitter little boy angry at the world for being separated from his “real mother.”
All he wanted was to be with his mother, and nothing we did could make him happy. He found fault with everything. I wanted so
desperately to see Bobby join in with the others and to have fun, like a “normal” six-year-old child. But Bobby refused to
participate in anything we offered.
When we went outside to play games, Bobby came up with excuses not to play with the other children. He told us the kids
wouldn’t let him play on the team of his choice and that his feelings were hurt. Yet when I arranged for him to be on the
team, he said he didn’t want to play anymore. When we played soccer, Bobby refused to play because he wanted to be goalie,
but when we made Bobby the goalie, he walked off the grass in frustration. During musical chairs, Bobby wouldn’t play because
he said, “It's childish.” To be truthful, I didn’t even know Bobby was only six years old. I thought he was at least eight or
nine by the way he acted. I only found out when I asked him to read me something and he said, “I can’t. I’m only in first
grade.”
One day, we did a study about God being our father. It was right before Father’s Day, so we tied the story together by talking
about what we liked best about our dads and what we were going to get them for father’s day. Bobby began to cry. That was the
day I found out that Bobby was a foster child.
I took Bobby aside and asked him, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Bobby replied, “It hurts every time we have to talk about moms and dads because I don’t have mine. My mom is working really
hard to get me back, but I don’t get to see her as much as I want to and I have to live with someone else.”
I listened and then told him that I understood. I said, “My dad was never in the picture either. I know it’s hard and it
hurts very much. But we can’t just not talk about the other kids’ moms and dads, because that wouldn’t be fair either. What
we can do is remind each other that God loves us very much and when our dads aren’t around, God still is. God really loves
you. And you know what, when you are in school, the teacher is always going to be doing something for Mother’s Day and
Father’s Day. It’s going to be hard, but you are going to have to learn to deal with that. Besides, you still get to see
your mother, don’t you? And your foster parents love you very much, don’t they?”
Through sniffles, Bobby looked up at me and replied, “Yeah, but I don’t get to see my mom enough.”
I gently placed my arms around Bobby and gave him a hug. I whispered, “I know honey. It will never be enough, but didn’t you
tell me that your mom was working to get better and get you back? And from what I’ve seen, your foster parents love you very
much. Don’t they tell you that they love you? And don’t they spend special time with you?” With a very tiny grin Bobby
replied, “Yes.”
Somehow, acknowledging Bobby’s pain allowed him to open up and talk. He even began to see that life wasn’t so bad and
occasionally played with the other children. He said it was kind of cool that he still got to spend the holidays with his
grandma and other relatives. One day after class, Bobby’s foster mom told me that Bobby had just started calling her husband,
“Dad.” Shortly after that, I didn’t see Bobby on a regular basis because he went back to school.
A few months later, when my son was trying out for softball, I did see Bobby again. How he ever noticed me in the crowd, I
will never know. But suddenly I heard an excited voice call out, “Hi teacher!” Bobby hugged me and I asked where he had come
from. He pointed across the park, and I asked him if he was trying out for softball, too. “No,” he said, “But my foster
brother is.” Bobby stayed by me the entire day, talking my ear off and smiling so brightly he could have lit up the whole park.
Now, I cannot say for sure that our little talk made a difference in Bobby’s life. But I would like to believe that it helped
him allow his foster parents to love him and him to love them back. Underneath every tough exterior is a sweet child just
waiting to be loved.
Volunteering and experiencing that transition in Bobby allowed me to see one of God’s greatest gifts in action; human
relationships! Just as with Bobby, the simple act of kindness from one to another can change lives. I thank God every day
for the lessons I have learned through various volunteer acts; for without those acts, I would never have known God’s grace
first hand.
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About The Author:
Alyice Edrich is the founder and editor-in-chief of TheDabblingMum.com,
the author of several work-from-home e-books,
the publisher of three monthly e-zines,
a freelance writer for hire
and an artist for hire.
* This article is available for your publication, for a F-E-E.
This article may NOT be reprinted without monetary compensation and written permission from the author.
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