I sat in my classroom. I was a sophomore in high school, and the service learning coordinator of my school had come in to talk about the service project that my current class would be embarking on following year. I was expecting a couple hours of community service here and there, nothing to much. I was even thinking that my hours from National Charity League could transfer to the hours I needed to graduate. Oh, how wrong I was. It turns out, that the school implemented a trial program starting with my class. In order to graduate, each student had to do 100 hours of community service. The first 10 were in our freshman year, working with the elderly. For the next 30, I spent every day for about a month working at my younger brother’s daycare. That was easy compared to what the next assignment would be.  Combined in your junior and senior year, each student had to complete 60 hours of service, working with marginalized people of any kind, from the same organization. As a mere 16 year old, this blew my mind. However, two years later, as I look back on how I spent those hours, I would have to call them some of the best of my life.

                On an early Saturday morning, a good friend of mine called me and asked if I had any plans for completing my Anawim Project. It was early, and the thought of trying to figure out what I was going to do frightened me. I had to start thinking...how was I going to get this done? When I told her no, she asked me to join her at a meeting about this organization called Sierra Service Project. SSP, a Methodist organization, is program that specializes in helping those in need. Each United Methodist Church has the option of inviting their youth group to go and work on one of the SSP sites for one week over the summer. I am Catholic, and know few Methodists, as I go to a catholic school, but my friend’s mother had the connection. Her best friend was the adult leader of the trip, and they have four openings for the summer of 2008.

                I was very hesitant at first, nervous about what the meeting would be like. I knew few people, and knew nothing about the project. I reluctantly went, figuring I would not end up joining the group. Again, I was mistaken. By the end of the meeting, I had made my decision: in late July, three of my best friends and I would be heading to Compton, east L.A., to be working with the people there.  I was excited at the thought of the plan forming, knowing that I would get my hours of the way. I was nervous, because I had no idea what to expect. And as it happens, that July morning rolled around. Okay, I was more than nervous. I was terrified. What had I gotten myself into? Wouldn’t it have been easier to simply stay home and work at the local homeless shelter? At the time, my brain was screaming YES! This is crazy! I had no idea what I was doing!

                I calmed down, and sleepily made my way into the van. We drove down the I-5, as I have many times before, and late one night pulled into an old church. There were six other youth groups there. We started with a tour of the place, rules, and laying out our belongings. We had dinner, we prayed, and then we talked about what the week was going to be like. We were split up into work groups, and we would each work at a different site doing a different job. We would work from 9-4 four days, and from 9-1 on the last day.  We would spend most of our time with our work group, and they were sure I was going to have a great time. I, admittedly, was still a little reluctant.

                I was woken up the next morning by the singing of the counselors. I hate the morning, so this did not help  my anxiety about the situation. I slowly got up, brushed my teeth, and made my way to breakfast. I stuck close to my friends at fist, because I knew no one. When the time came, I silently got into the van with my work group. This is when the trip really starts.

                We pulled up in front a very old, very worn down house. We filed out, not really knowing what to do with ourselves. Our adult leader took the initiative, and rang the doorbell. Out came the most adorable elderly man, and he introduced himself to all of us. His name was Mr. Levi, and he lived in that house alone. He barely has enough money to keep up with food and medicine, so the appearance of his house was his last priority. He admitted to us that he was going to try and sell his house, so he needed it to be painted. He showed where the materials were kept, and that was it. No lessons, no tutorials. Just me, my work group, and a ladder.

                It took us a couple hours to figure out what to do. Finally, we created a game plan. We spent the first two days scraping the old paint off, and getting to know each other. When we would return back to the church, I would catch up with my friends for a minute, and then spend most of my time with my other workers. We got along so well. We worked tirelessly on that house for five days, scraping, then priming, and finally starting to paint. We only covered a little bit the paint, but we made some serious progress. The group coming in with the following session would finish the painting.

                That week at SSP was one of the best experiences of my life. I had never felt so fulfilled by something that to me, seemed so simple. All I did was help paint a house, but to Mr. Levi, we changed his life. When he came out and saw what we did, he teared up, and thanked us so genuinely, that it made all that sweat and hard work completely worth it. He was grateful. The smile on his face at the end of the day made it seem like we had given him the best gift we could have.  In fact, it was that smile that made me decide I had to go back and do it again the next summer.

                When it comes down to it, I was so silly to think that completing 60 hours of service would be a monumental challenge, that it would take everything out of me, and I would have to force myself to do it. At the end of that first day, I was not even thinking about the hours. I could have cared less. It was not about a grade, or graduating, it was about service. It was about helping others. Being there for people the way all people should. When people need help, it is our responsibility to help them, to get them back on their feet. That is what we as human beings are here to do.

                Since that trip, I received my silver award with Girl Scouts. I became a Kairos retreat leader, where I was more of an emotional support system than physical. I went back on SSP the following year, and worked on an Indian reservation. That was another amazing experience, and I embraced every second of it. I started to care about what I was doing in National Charity League. That service trip changed the way I view the world, and view other people. In opened my mind to the common struggles faced by so many, and that if I am fortunate enough to avoid some of them, it is my job to help those who need it.