Kristen Elliott's Delivery Reflection

The January wind howled as our car flew past the urban sprawl of Denver. I silently peered out the window as the driver and front-seat passenger conversed about directions and street names. We were on our way to volunteer at Project Angel Heart, an organization that prepares and delivers meals for people with life-threatening illnesses within the Denver region. We were in the process of finding our way to their headquarters so that we could pick up a delivery route. After twenty-five minutes of pleasant chatter and spectacular 90’s music humming through the car speaker, we finally pulled into Project Angel Heart’s parking lot. I hopped out of the car, trying to conceal my excitement and anticipation.

After filling out paperwork and learning the rules and guidelines that we were expected to follow, we headed out to deliver the meals. The considerable number of regulations we had to follow surprised me; we couldn’t enter the client’s home, we couldn’t mention anything about the organization to the client’s family or neighbors, and we couldn’t ask the client how they were feeling. After reading the lengthy list, I decided that Project Angel Heart was being overly cautious. Where any of these rules significant to what I was going to do? My job was to simply drop off the food at the client’s front door. Even I couldn’t screw that up! After returning to the car to begin our deliveries, I thought deeper about why these rules might be necessary. I tried to picture myself as the client and realized that these guidelines would help protect my privacy. I wouldn’t want a volunteer accidentally spreading the gossip to my neighbors that I had a life threatening illness. Would my neighbors treat me differently? Would it offend me if the volunteer knowingly asked me how I was feeling? I realized that these expectations were enormously important for the organization to enforce in order to maintain a high standard of service towards its clients. When we finally arrived at the first house, I walked up to the door with a new found appreciation and respect for Project Angel Heart and its mission.

I’m not quite sure what my expectations were for that first delivery, but what we saw wasn’t it; instead of the low-income, urban homes I expected to be delivering to, we instead made our way deep into the heart of Denver’s suburbia. Row after row of middle-class residences passed us on our way to the first house. We finally discovered the location of our first delivery after circling around the apartment complex several times. My stomach churned as I grabbed the correct bag and followed my classmates, Milly and Kate, up the sidewalk towards the building. Milly boldly knocked on the door. Several minutes passed with no answer. Unsure, we knocked again, harder this time. Someone stirred inside and minutes later the door slowly and tentatively creaked open. Halfway hidden by the immense shape of the door, this small man seemed comparatively minute. He was thin and wore oxygen tubes. He moved cautiously, as if he was uncertain whether we were harmless or if we would leap towards him screaming at any moment. He slowly reached his arm towards us, not saying a word, and grasped the brown paper bag packed with enough food to sustain him for the week. Still silent, he nodded towards us and slowly closed the door again. Slightly disappointed with his diminutive reaction, I walked away from the house and once again got into the car with my mind racing.

We visited four other clients that day, within a ten-mile radius of our first stop. Some, like the first man we visited, barely acknowledged us as they accepted their large paper bags. Others would express their gratitude verbally. More commonly, they would share with us secret smiles that we could clearly interpret as a response comparable to, “Thank you.” Each person we met reacted to us in a different way. I thought about how close these houses were in proximity to one another. Did their neighbors know? Did the sick people whom we delivered to know one another? How many sick people are in my community, silently suffering like the ones I met today? There could be people I know personally who keep their illnesses to themselves; my peers and I would never know. If I were suffering from a life-threatening illness, would I tell anyone? Would I seek help?

After weeks of reflection, the initial disappointment with my volunteering experience has now been replaced with a curiosity for why I felt this way. Was I expecting more gratitude from the clients I met? Was I expecting more appreciation from the staff of Project Angel Heart instead of their long list of strict rules? After answering these questions, I am ashamed and embarrassed that my motives for volunteering were so self-centered and egotistical. This organization was not created, after all, so that volunteers like me could feel good about themselves for giving back to the community. Project Angel Heart is first and foremost an organization purely for the benefit of sick people who need help with the most basic of human necessities: food. It didn’t matter that all I got was a quick smile in exchange for a bag full of meals. Their impending health and prosperity should be enough for my own appetite for gratitude. This realization has become a defining factor in my life when prioritizing values and discovering the motives that makes me who I am. After I delivered my first meal for Project Angel Heart, I believed that I had selflessly given my time and energy for someone in need. What I have found, however, is that I traded that time for something significant in the most discreet ways. I was humbled by this experience, and it has changed me for the better.