Halfway Markers

So, here we are, a little over halfway through the year. The weather is gradually improving, as the sun peeks out more frequently & things seems marginally drier. By rights, it seems our spirits should also be lifting, but that's not always the case...

We've been asked to evaluate our host sites, their adherence to AmeriCorps visions, goals & members' specific skill sets & needs; some of our compatriots, whose contracts differ from our own, will be leaving very, very soon. Too soon. We're all at a crossroads, these days, trying to decide if we're "happy" or not, to remind ourselves how many synonyms that word has, how broad a concept it really is. Perhaps, we wonder, we're not fulfilling our own visions here: what difference are we making? How integral is our own happiness to the overall success of our site in its entirety, be it middle school, tribal center, marine science center, community action patrol?

The cracks are starting to show. Some days it feels as though we're just covering over the bad bits, time after time, exchanging each small hurt for an equal-sized scraping of plaster: a good day with a single student, a great dinner, a hug from a friend.

I don't think I can accurately answer this question-the one of purpose, of meaningful- and impactful-ness. The one about "what we're doing here" & "why" & whether or not our work will stand & remain when we're gone. We all want longevity. We all want to know that in the end, we've "made a difference". It's hard for us to measure that difference against the feeling we have in our bones at the end of some days: that today was a wash, a throw-away. That tomorrow the issues will still be there, the checklist still on the desk, the kid still unable to multiply. That above all, we've missed the mark somehow, but that it's not our fault to accept; that the fault lies with the site. Lost in translation.

Last Saturday we finally managed to go out to our ivy removal site & get some work done. The day started out gray but meandered into sunny & perfect, tide out & bay silver with sunshowers. The eagles were around. New folks joined us to pull ivy & learn about invasive species, including my best friend from Alaska, down for a long weekend & a much-anticipated visit. We played music out the back of someone's Subaru. At the end of the day, each of us could step back from our chosen patch of weeds & see bare ground, ready to be replanted with a native plant someday. It was change you could see. That we'd all felt, in the chill dirt & rain on our faces, the sun on our backs & each other's laughter in our ears.

Later, we went out for a late lunch at the local pub with my best friend & several others who'd participated. We talked out some of our frustrations, with work, with the erstwhile intangibility of our objectives. The fireplace was roaring. My partner leaned over to kiss my forehead. Someone pulled out a word game & for a while, we all got lost in ridiculing the origins of English idioms & slang terms.

Ultimately, we were present. This is what we've done, & what we've been called to do. What we will leave: a presence, the knowledge that our communities will hold onto: that help is available, & that compassion & willingness to contribute are alive & well. Although it's difficult at times, for better or for worse, we're here. And the needs we're meant to serve are, too.

Look around. The bits of plaster & Bandaids that will carry us through are everywhere: in one day's hard work, in friends, in the weather & in yourself. You're present in both the hurts & the unfathomable happiness, & someone somewhere is always grateful.