Chaos at Caritas

Through mission trips, volunteering at my high school, and AKS (my service sorority), I would say I have developed a passion for volunteer work. There is nothing more powerful than love expressed through actions, and that is exactly what made me so excited for volunteering at the Caritas Soup Kitchen.

When we arrived at Caritas, it was exactly how I pictured it (quite similar to Sharing and Caring Hands). We were divided into three groups: the kitchen crew, the cleaning crew, and the clothing crew. I was one of the four girls (including Michelle, Jesika, and Mary) put on clothing. As we divided into our groups, the volunteer coordinator sarcastically asked us if we were up to such a “difficult task”. Clearly we were viewed as having the “easy job”.

But, oh how wrong that assumption was! The 2 hours spent sorting through the bags and bags of clothing that coated the tiny storage room floor was one of the most stressful I’ve had since the train trip from Toulouse. The actual sorting part wasn’t too bad (dirty clothes get thrown, shirts go on one shelf, pants on another, women’s clothing in a different room etc…), but the language barrier proved to be nearly an impossible obstacle to overcome. We were instructed by two Italian women, Naldina (an old woman who spoke no English) and Raphaela ( middle aged and  spoke enough to give basic instructions). The problem was, the two ladies could never agree on anything! What Raphaela thought was garbage, Naldina deemed beautiful (bella!). I would put something in one pile, only to be scolded a minute later. It was a game of chance- “which pile is least likely to get me yelled at?”  This lack of organization was enough to make all of us frazzled.

One mistake was what led to my downfall. I was emptying a large paper bag full of old purses and putting them the sorting table. Suddenly, the Naldina started yelling at me and lunged for one of the bags! She seemed seriously upset, and after minute, I finally realized she had placed her own purse next to this bag of purses by coincidence. I had simply thought one of the purses had escaped the bag and put on the table. She started tearing through her bag, furiously speaking in rapid Italian to me. From the little Italian I know, she was going on and on looking for her house key (chiave). Raphela asks if I have stolen her key, and we begin searching all over the very cluttered room as Naldina continued to accuse me of stealing from her purse. Finally, she found her chiave in the zipper pocket of her purse and Raphaela apologized to me on her behalf. I spent the rest of our time mortified and tried to stay out of the way without touching anything.

I was relieved when we were told to go, but also sad. I had been so excited to help others, and I had only felt like a burden. In retrospect, I suppose this was a clear revelation of how blessed I have been. If the worst I can say about an experience is that I was a little stressed and socially uncomfortable, then I guess I have life pretty good. I could have been staying at Caritas and desperate for food or money, but I am fortunate enough to only have been a volunteer. As long as people get the clothing they need, I guess my evening was not wasted.