On the morning of September 8th, 2012, I arose from bed with every intention of going gardening in Absecon. I donned the oldest clothes I could find, laced up an over-worn pair of running sneakers and threw my hair into a messy ponytail, justifying to myself that no one would see me behind the layer of dirt with which I would surely be decorated. After blindly boarding a shuttle bus I assumed would take me to pull weeds or plant flowers for a few hours, I was informed that I had been assigned an entirely different agenda. In the words of my activity leader, “We’re going to be throwing a picnic for about twenty emotionally and physically disabled men.”
It didn’t take long for the initial panic to set in. Emotionally disabled? I immediate sought out the emergency exits. Maybe I could hitchhike back to campus? Before I had the opportunity to fully develop my escape route, we had arrived at Lake Lenape alongside a bus very similar to our own. Our bus contained three rather small, terrified college girls and one equally apprehensive group leader, while theirs contained something far more impressive: a lesson.
Spending the day playing picnic names and grilling burgers with the men of Community Quest was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. As the minutes passed, I became more comfortable and ever more ashamed of myself for casting judgments in the first place. We filled that pavilion with laughter and something those men appreciated more than the food and games. Our presence brought friendship and real human interaction into the lives of people who are often looked down upon because of their hardships. Whether it was watching Russell, a man with severe Down Syndrome, score his first points in the bean bag toss or conversing with Tim, whose disability remains undetectable to me, I am unable to put into words how deeply this experience enhanced my understanding of my own life.
I have known for a while now that I want to be an occupational therapist, but my unexpected Day of Service only confirmed that vision. I was able to see that the purpose of my life might not necessarily be to make the most money or receive the highest acclaim, but to help others feel whole again. I am reminded of a familiar quote when I look back on this day. Brandi Snyder said, “To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world.” Though I may not have my own television show or run for President, I recognize now that I can make a difference by simply passing on a smile.