The List

If you have ever stepped foot into a church you may have noticed one of us. We serve you the sacraments, pass you the offering basket, and escort your feeble grandparents. We know where all of the bathrooms are, and we have counted you every time you've sat in one of our lavishly padded seats. We are the smiling faces that help your family of six find seats when you show up to service thirty minutes late. We are, as our lapels say, USHER.

Historically, I'm not much of the volunteer type. I like the satisfaction of helping people, but 'volunteering' has always sounded like something grandmas did to get out of the house when grandpa started getting on their nerves. It has always been scary to me too; kind of like a slow death. I knew this guy named John that started volunteering when we were in high school. He got so into it that he never came back. He's living in a third world country now. I get the shivers every time I think about it.

I think I figured the whole volunteering system out. There is a master list of names and phone numbers that all of the heads of volunteer organizations use. It's called The List. If you have ever volunteered for anything, you are probably on The List. The only way to stay off this list is to never volunteer for anything, ever. Once you are on The List you will be called upon to volunteer for things you didn't even know existed. No task is too gross, intensely boring, or labor intensive to ask a volunteer on The List to perform. Anything goes. Becoming a name on The List has been a huge reason that I have always refrained from volunteer work.

Even though I figured out The List and and had a deeply rooted apprehension for volunteering, I recently felt the need to make an effort. I mean, my volunteer resume is abysmal. It consists of bagging groceries at a food bank twice when I was 13, and even that was for extra credit. Pretty bad. I kept thinking that if Mother Teresa was still alive, and I met her, she would probably call me out. The thought of getting scolded by Mother Teresa is probably the worst thing that could happen to a person, and it gave me the final push to get out of my comfort zone and consider volunteering.

About 7 months ago I did what was once unthinkable. I volunteered at my church and willingly became a part of the system that I feared for so long. Astoundingly, I have not died, been asked to clean up feces, or been shipped off to a third world country; at least not yet. The experience has actually been pretty liberating and I've met some interesting people during my stint as an usher. It may even be the first baby step toward more volunteer work in the future. Time will tell, but for now I am happy to report that I have conquered my fear. Mother Teresa would be proud.