My name is Bruce Arnold and I have enjoyed helping out at PHFS for more than a year now. I'm an Overnight Host and I bring in a group a couple times a year to cover an entire evening of volunteer shifts. The experience has always been rewarding for the group and for myself. Yah, I'm hooked.
I wanted to share something that has really stuck with me, and I'm still trying to figure out why. It happened early in January, 2015.
We had a mom and her son that I had gotten to know during a couple overnight stays. No huge connection, just a quiet but friendly woman and her outgoing 12-year-old. I was there the night before they were going to move, and I offered to drive them and their belongings over to the apartment the next evening.
Then comes the part that I'm still trying to figure out. There were no Hollywood moments. The mom didn't break down in tears, and the son didn't hoop and holler in triumph. We simply moved all the stuff in, up five floors without an elevator, and said a quick goodbye. They were obviously happy with their place but also trying to figure out all the changes and how to adapt. I left feeling pretty good, but nothing over-the-top.
Until the mother sent me a simple text message, "Thanks again!!" That's when I lost it.
Where did that burst of emotion come from? Here's the nearest I can figure: If you're like me, you help out at the shelter for one or two reasons. Perhaps you want to give of yourself to a worthy cause - to lend a hand where one is clearly needed. Or perhaps you are hoping to make a difference in someone's life. Or like me, a little of both. Each time I serve at PHFS I know that both happen, to some degree, but usually as a small piece of a much larger picture.
But that night I got to see it happen right in front of me, in live time, with two very real people. It made me proud of what PHFS is doing and deeply happy to be a part of it. That's what I wanted to share. What we do, what you do, really does make a difference.
