The Gift that keeps Giving…

I started volunteering again. When I think about what volunteering means to me, I fondly remember my grandma. Grandma Nancy was an influential proponent for the importance of volunteer work in one’s life. She made sure her grandchildren experienced various activities that gave back to the community, whether it be delivering ‘Meals on Wheels’ to the elderly or helping out at a soup kitchen at a local church. Grandma was privileged, yet she spent most of her time helping others.

I have been thinking a lot about the sentiment and motivation behind volunteer work. I have the time, the skills, the personality… but there is something else that I can’t quite pinpoint. You see, giving to others significantly gives back to me. I almost feel selfish volunteering because I love it so much; much more than any paid job I’ve ever had.

What is my volunteer work? I am tutoring English for a non-profit called Latino Community Association. I just have one student, Adriana, and I tutor her in English for one and a half hours every week. I’ve been doing this for a few months now. I get to speak and work on my Spanish, which I love. But there is also something about the Latino culture that feels very familiar and welcoming. Not only do I have an English student, but I have been invited to her children’s life events (birthday parties, communion at their church); in some unknown manner, I feel like family.

My English student inspires me. She shares books that she is reading that tell stories about women coming from nothing to overcoming great obstacles to succeed. Now I’m trying to read the same books in Spanish! Adriana asked for help making business cards for her cleaning services; she is determined to help her husband provide for her family. Through this amazing community that I have in Bend, my friends have helped me find cleaning jobs for Adriana. She is so grateful; I want her to work for lovely, good people. You see, when things like this happens, when we connect, help, empower, that is where the magic in this life presents itself. My cup fills up and runneth over.

When I returned back to the US from the Peace Corps, I received criticism for not seeking a more lucrative career path. I have a different viewpoint on the meaning of life; I value experiences, living a balanced life, and finding purpose in meaning through outdoor/travel adventures and continuous learning. I value the good people that I surround myself with and how I chose to live the gift of life; I could careless about what others have or think. I just don’t care.

Had I not been a Peace Corps volunteer, I probably wouldn’t be volunteering for LCA. The Peace Corps built my confidence, honed my language skills, enhanced my intercultural communication, bridged understanding, and exposed me to some of the poorest, happiest people I had ever seen. Experiences like the Peace Corps make you think more about the big picture of the reality of the rest of the world. So I couldn’t be more thrilled to find an organization to support and be involved with; even though it has been a journey since I returned to the US to find something like LCA, it all makes so much sense to me.

Last week I really wanted to go to the Dia de Los Muertos celebration at LCA, but I was feeling hesitant mostly because I didn’t know what it was going to be like and if I would know anyone. I wavered back and forth, back and forth. I decided to go. I must have arrived looking lost and wide-eyed; the sweetest abuelita greeted me at the door and gave me a tour of the evening activities. I made a marigold crown (cempasúchil) to wear on my head as part of the celebratory adornment. Ironically I chatted with two folks who met as Peace Corps volunteers in the 80’s or 90’s. I ran into a woman that I had met at Adriana’s daughter’s birthday party and she introduced me to her family. As much as I hated to go alone, I did it and had a wonderful experience. My fellow RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer), Wendy, reminded me that I “… spent two years of my life preparing for moments like this!” I laughed so hard when she sent me that text. She was so right. I spent two years of my life feeling completely out of place, uncomfortable, and alone in Paraguay. I should be a pro at navigating new situations!

There is something special about volunteering through another language and culture. You feel a sense of connection through something you have in common and you learn from each other. I have a tendency to be drawn to those who speak another language: my Argentinian coworker, a customer-now-friend who is in her late 70s, my landlord who is 80 who teaches English at LCA, too! Call it what you want, but I see sparkle dust and magic all around me when moments like these happen.

Who would have thought that the Peace Corps would still be one of the best decisions I ever made in my life? Who would have thought that it would propel me forward, almost ten years later, and help me find that warm fuzzy feeling inside when times are challenging.

I am afraid to jinx myself again by mentioning it, but Paraguay and Apyragua is in the future, almost ten years since I have come back to the US…

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I didn’t make it back to Paraguay… yet.

Almost ten years after being an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer), I was nearly all the way packed to go visit my community. I had packed a few small gifts for my host families, gathered some knitting materials for my dear friend, Andrea. All of my travel necessities were in a pile: packable pillow for the plane, power adapter, travel vessels for toiletries… Some of those items are still sitting in a pile on the floor of my 300 square foot apartment. Life was derailed. I didn’t know what was next.

My dad and I in Paraguay when he came to visit me in 2013.

My dad had been diagnosed with thyroid cancer almost 15 years ago. He had treatment and lived his life to the fullest, feeling relatively great post-treatment. Until he didn’t feel great anymore. He kept that part out of our conversations and phone calls; we didn’t know how ill he was until a few weeks before he died. The cancer had spread significantly internally. A few weeks away from my departure to Paraguay, I was on a plane to Iowa instead. With the help of my dad’s family and hospice, my brothers and I cared for him so he could pass away at home.

The last few months have been surreal; I exist in auto-pilot mode. One foot in front of the other. Go to work. Buy groceries. Maybe cook food. I am exhausted all of the time. I spend a lot of time to myself, not because I’m drowning in sadness, but because it takes longer to recharge these days. Grief comes and goes. Memories come and go. The pain comes and goes. And so goes life.

The only way I know how to express my current state is to say that I am happy/sad. Dad wouldn’t want me to dwell on his passing (easier said than done, Dad); he would want me to continue to live my life to the fullest. Being an independent, single female, my dad was a big part of my life. He was the one person who didn’t judged me, always loved me, and showed up when I needed him the most. Lately I can’t help but think “how dare he leave me alone” to do this thing called “life” by myself. I know that I am not literally alone; I have the most amazing community and family. But no one replaces a beloved father; no one knows what that feels like unless they have lost someone in that role.

Similarly to life in the Peace Corps, I revert to my coping skills, of which one is always have something to look forward to. Time ticks forward. Where am I going? What am I doing? Paraguay. My dearest friend, Wendy, whom I met as a fellow Peace Corps volunteer, who was prepared to fly across the world from India to meet me in Paraguay, completely redirecting her trip to Bali instead, is willing to try this again and go to Paraguay with me next year.

You only live once. Dad didn’t want me to cancel my trip to Paraguay, but there was no way I would have enjoyed that vacation, knowing he was dying. I told him Paraguay will always be there. I was so heartbroken, exhausted, and sad, that all I could think about was sitting in silence on a beach. I daydreamed about digging my toes in the sand, listening to the waves of the ocean ebb and flow, me in sunglasses and a hat in partial shade… just sitting still staring out to the sea, into nothingness. These days I daydream about sitting on the beach more than ever. I need a break from the loss, from work, from the fast-paced American life…

Paraguay and Brazil, I am coming for you… 2024…

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