Sunday Friends

During June, my employer lays out a month-long smorgasbord of community volunteering, around the globe. Most of these opportunities are scheduled during the workday, and we are generously given the time to participate.

I signed up to lead a project for the fifth year in a row, and that will happen later this week.

Then my coworkers organized a group for a different project, so I doubled down (as a regular volunteer, also this week).

And then the word came out that a few projects were in jeopardy because no one had offered to lead them.

That, I could not abide. Our local non-profits are counting on us. I surveyed the list, and regrettably ruled out one after another.

With one exception: It would be a short drive from home, on a Sunday afternoon. I just didn't have a reason not to step up.

Thus I found myself leading a small group of colleagues, along with their friends and family, volunteering outside my comfort zone: in a room packed with children (and parents), families all struggling to meet their basic needs in our community.

The stated mission of Sunday Friends is to “empower families to break the generational cycle of poverty by fostering positive development in children while educating and guiding parents to support their children's life success.”

Their approach is well-honed after two decades of service. We stepped into a room buzzing with activity: crafts and educational tasks to engage the kids, cooking and thank-you letter writing for all. There were also classes for the adults: parenting, financial literacy, English as a second language.

Our group fanned out to help where needed: tutoring, Fourth of July decorations, red-white-and-blueberry yogurt parfaits. I joined the crew working on today's hot meal, chopping onions and mincing garlic for the potato-and-red-pepper hash. Families also bring pot-luck dishes to share with all.

This program runs with a special twist: Time spent on each activity earns tickets, which can be redeemed for products at the Sunday Friends store (or banked online for future use). The store is stocked with necessities we take for granted, like household and school supplies, health and beauty products. There is also a small stock of simple toys, like stuffed animals and games. At the end of the day, every family will also go home with a bag filled with fresh produce.

For me, this was an extraordinary experience. I was apprehensive that I would be met with suspicion and resentment; instead, I found warmth and acceptance. Volunteers and families worked happily together. The room bustled with children eager (and equipped) to help with every task—even food prep. It's about pride: Pride of accomplishment. Pride of contributing to the community.

The organization's executive director (Ali) was onsite and had given our group a tour. The main room had emptied out, and I wondered if the families normally trickled away after the meal.

Not at all.

They had assembled outside to sing “Happy Birthday” to Ali; the kids had crafted a tall party hat for him. With much cheering and clapping, the crowd followed with a second joyful song, in Spanish.

I can think of no better testimonial, than that.