FEATURE: DEVELOPING YOUR VOLUNTEERS
Born for Others
By Lauren Casper
It was a warm summer evening when I heard
a loud bang followed by total silence. My
husband, John, would soon be home from
work, and I had been gathering ingredients
in the kitchen, preparing to cook our family a
simple dinner. My kids were in the living room
watching whatever their movie of the month
was. It was an ordinary evening, closing out
what had been a series of quite ordinary days.
When the TV suddenly went black, Mareto and
Arsema jumped up with startled expressions
on their faces. It was strangely quiet—the
usual hum of all our electrical appliances was
gone. The power was out. Given the loud bang,
I didn’t have a lot of hope that the electricity
would flicker back on any time soon, so the kids
and I put on our shoes and wandered down the
street to find our friends in their front yard with
their own young children.
The kids played while we parents talked
about nothing in particular. Soon, more and
more people emerged from their homes and
wandered down the street asking the same
question, “Do you have power?” Someone
finally called the electric company and
informed us that the loud bang had been the
sound of a large transformer blowing—the
entire neighborhood was without power.
I was thankful it was summer—still light out
and warm. Oh well, we agreed, we’ll just sit
outside since no electricity meant no working
air conditioners or fans. The kids were having
a blast together anyway, so we’d just enjoy this
small break from the normal evening routine.
It wasn’t long before John’s car came around
the curve at the top of the hill and stopped in
front of us. I walked to the driver’s side window
and explained what had happened. He parked
in front of our home, went inside to change out
of his uniform, and a few minutes later came
walking down the street to join us— barefoot
and wearing shorts and a Tshirt.
Soon another friend from up the street came
into view, pushing a stroller in front of her.
She waved and called out a warm hello in her
thick Ghanaian accent. My children squealed
in delight at the sight of her and rushed to
coo over her daughter, whom they adore.
Arsema is so smitten and devoted, she is now
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