I was the normal kid, my biological parents were still together and I had a younger brother. My father was a policeman and my mom worked out of the home with Pampered Chef, a cooking company. We were the typical American family until October 5, My dad worked third shift and my mom was off work that day so on October 4 we spent all day together.
Huffington Post Blogger Turning Points: A Personal Essay On Service and Answering the Call to Volunteer Being a part of the Millennial generation, I feel like my peers and I have heard a million times how "special" we are and how each individual can make a difference.
I'm not sure exactly how helpful it is to buy stock in our own "special-ness," but I know that I can make a difference. I think for many who are engaged in the culture of service, there is probably some part of them that has always felt curious about the world beyond their own sphere.
I can say that for me, that's how I always was; only I lacked the exposure and knowledge of how to actually go and do something. And I got distracted along the way with social life, school and work. But most people know this, right? Perhaps we all inherently know that serving our communities immeasurably enriches our own lives, and that a philosophy of service is what achieves peaceful neighborhoods as well as global societies.
So what makes some take the leap to fully live a service-filled life while others let it slip into fuzzy idealism? Looking back at my life there have been a few seminal moments that I can say were definite turning points toward consciously living a life of service and volunteering.
Three moments in particular stand out in my memory that caused me to hear the clarion call of Martin Luther King when he said, "Life's most persistent and urgent Personal turning point essays is, 'What are you doing for others?
It was easy to make friends. The difficulty was in trying to digest the most heart-breaking stories for which, at that point, I had no context: I remember one woman specifically whose face will always be with me, as she told me the harrowing story that was her life, and without a shred of self-pity, a single tear streamed fiercely down her cheek, betraying her courage on what was otherwise a steel expression.
Overcome, and overwhelmed, I had no idea how to help her. I didn't help her: But in the years that have followed, I've become convinced that her ability to deal with her situation could be increased with the aid of compassionate neighbors and a welcoming community. I decided that no matter where I was, I'd be a part of that community.
I don't remember her name, but I've seen her face with that single tear in the eyes of the hundreds of refugees I've had the joy to serve since that time.
A child of suburbia in urban-sprawled Phoenix, I had no idea what an art house movie theater was but somehow stumbled upon an early trailer for Hotel Rwanda. A rush of urgency came upon me as I found myself driving an hour to the nearest nonscreen-megatheater.
I had friends back in Belgium who had fled Rwanda and Burundi, who told me their first-hand tales of violence and escape. I knew their stories but lacked a visual.
In the case of Hotel Rwanda, I was also drawn by the symbol of someone, an individual, Paul Rusesabagina, who seemed reluctant at first to help others. Then, and beautifully, once he recognized it as his destiny in that moment and time and embraced the responsibility, I felt something awaken inside of me as well.
Alone in the dark movie theater, despite my peaceful city and non-genocidal environment, I silently embraced the same responsibility. An Affirmation Then inin an odd turn of events and serendipitous Twitter connections, I found myself headed to New Orleans for the National Conference on Volunteering and Servicean event of which I had previously never heard.
The conference for me was like realizing I wasn't the only sheep in the pasture. There were other idealistic and driven people out there like me who give a damn and give a lot to their communities, their neighbors and the world. My heart soared; and in a very real way, NCVS was a turning point for me.
It was a time to renew vows of citizenship and responsibility.
Vows I had made before at previous turning points. There are so many ways to be of service. I became a mentor with my local office of the International Refugee Committee to youth from Somalia and discovered not only how personally rewarding taking a "little brother" to the zoo, or helping with his homework, going to his soccer games is, but how helpful such easy and fun!
Then I moved across the country, took the first job I could get at America's favorite coffee shop and found a kinship with fellow Starbucks community volunteers, feeding the homeless and raising money for American jobs.
Now, I've taken those experiences and started my own social organization for service and learning in the community. The Greatness Initiative Social Club is my way of bringing more people around me to experience what I love:The turning point essay. 4 stars based on 50 reviews rutadeltambor.com Essay.
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Turning point essaysEveryone in there life experiences a tragic event which brings a state of hopelessness. Whether it may be large or small these occurrences change us mentally or physically and shape us into the people we are today.