Taking out the Trash

There are moments in life when we automatically jump to conclusions and it is impossible to stop our preconceptions from guiding our initial conclusions.
On Monday morning as the heat settled and the first coats of paint dried, several students began to pick up garbage around the garden. Though I was not assigned to that job, while painting I observed the circumstances.
Piled underneath the wooden porch, rotten garbage bags lay, most likely placed there months ago. Immediately I became frustrated that after traveling 10 hours we were taking out the trash. Surely amidst the poverty there was something more important than picking up trash…I can pick up trash at home, that’s not what I should be doing here. I want to feel like I am making a difference.
But here's the catch, the woman we are helping is on oxygen and she physically cannot pick up the trash.
There is a fine line between want and need, a divider of choice. I have the choice to pick up the trash, she doesn’t. So who am I to decide what I am worthy of doing--what is fitting for my description of serving. Yes, it sounds clichéd, but serving is about the little things. The moments where, rather than projecting my ability of choice onto others, I simply say "I'm here to help", and if that means taking out the trash, then that's what I'll do.

Claire Wright '11