Filigadusha

I feel like I’m not doing enough. I’m a hands on person, I like to get elbows deep into a cause. Hell, I’ll dive right in to the stickiest morass if it means pulling out the people who need rescuing. I donate to charities, each month one in particular gets a large (by my standards as a poor person) donation. This month, I gave to a charity called Operation Sandwich, a mission started by The Greater Good organization to distribute more than 10,000 PB&J sandwiches to hungry families.
Something about the idea just tickled me. I mean, if you know me at all, you know I like to give things to people. I love to gift. You don’t need to know it’s me, I just want to give you something. I love to go through a drive-thru, pay for my meal, and then pay for the order of someone behind me. I cackle with glee as I drive away, wishing I could see the look on their face when they’re told their food is free. I love to do it. I love it. I LOVE IT. If I was a billionaire, that’s all I’d do every day, is pay for everyone’s dinner, their groceries, their utility bills, it would be so much fun.
Ye gods, I remember when I was a child, and we had no food, no electricity, no running water. We lived in a run down car, and slept in the backseat. It was worst in the dead of winter. My god, what I wouldn’t have given for someone to hand me, my mom, and my dad a peanut butter and jelly sandwich each and tell us everything was going to be okay. Every little bit helps. Every little bit, folks.
Still, donating doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There is a place in the next town over that is a homeless shelter, and when I was in high school, I would volunteer there. I’d help with distributing supplies, but most often I found myself singing for people. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had to give. I enjoyed doing it, they enjoyed hearing it (or at least they didn’t complain openly), and I felt like I was doing something, offering a part of myself to sustain others any way I could.
At the time, I was working a job, and going to school. Mom was just starting to get ill then, but I still had time to help on occasion. Now all of my time is dedicated to maintaining my mother’s health, keeping the family finances afloat, taking care of medicines, appointments, debt collectors, bills, and everything else for my parents. I no longer have free time to dedicate to doing more for others. Some would tell me I’m doing enough as it is, possibly too much considering my mental, physical, and emotional state, but that’s not how my brain works.
Look, I’m not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I’m flawed, I’m deeply flawed, folks, but I really, honestly, truly want to do good. I want to make life better. My life doesn’t amount to much for myself, many of my dreams have long since died, and in all honesty I don’t expect to have a great many years left. I believe I have fewer  years ahead of me than I do behind, but even so I want to leave a positive impact on this world. I believe we should all leave this world far better than when we found it. It’s not about accolades, or about some heavenly reward, I’m an atheist I don’t believe in a pie-in-the-sky hotel eternity (we all know I’d get the room next to the broken ice machine anyway).
What it’s about is doing good, about propagating the idea that every human being has value, has worth, deserves to be loved. That every person is an individual with hopes, and dreams, and that they just want to love others as much as they wish to be loved by others. I want to love, and I want to be loved. I want to make genuine connections with people, I want them to understand me as much as I want to understand them. The universe is vast, cold, and empty. We’re all we have.
Why can’t we use as much of our lives as possible to improve the lives of others? If we did that, this truly would be a heaven on earth. Oh, and if you’re interested in donating to the Greater Good’s Operation Sandwich drive, go here:
https://thehungersite.greatergood.com/store/ths/item/53315/operation-sandwich-fight-hunger-in-america
Love may be all you need, but it sure is nice to have a sandwich, too.
Until next time,
Amaris