Mission

In the past year, the fullest, most enjoyable days that I have experienced have been those that I spent volunteering -- at music festivals and at a campground. A couple of months ago I blogged about the best job I have ever had, which was working at a campground/recreation park in 1986.

Until a few days ago I thought that "letting my life speak" -- doing what I am really passionate about -- necessarily involved camping/RVing. As much as I love my flexible lifestyle, last week a BFF made a comment that is gradually helping me to understand where my real passion lies. (Thanks, Jodi.)

I had stopped to help a young couple who were out of gas on U.S. 31 in Kokomo, and who had no money. Jodi was concerned that I was endangering myself (and maybe even her, as well). I told her stories about 40 years of picking up hitchhikers, and of helping other people in need. In some cases I never knew whether I had really made a difference; in at least one case -- when by chance I picked up a hitchhiker twice within a few months -- I knew that I had been conned. But, I told Jodi, I'd rather be occasionally taken advantage of than pass up the opportunity to help someone who might (or might not) truly be in need.

I also told her that during my first winter as a fulltime RVer I thought about equipping a bus with bunks, and using it to give homeless people some place warm to sleep during cold weather. (That idea is still rolling around in my head.)

Jodi said something like, "Well, then...maybe your purpose in life is to help others."

That comment struck me as a little odd, because all my life I had been under the assumption that everyone felt that "calling"...that -- aside from every other thing that we do -- all humans felt a keen responsibility to help people in need.

The fact is -- although I believe everyone must feel a degree of empathy for the homeless, hungry, and needy -- not everyone views helping others as a "mission". After a week of reflection, I'm beginning to think that is my true passion.

Yesterday, as I was pulling out of a Walmart parking lot in Indianapolis, I saw a young woman seated in the grass holding one of "those signs"...'homeless, needy'. As I pulled out onto 74th Street I suddenly knew that I could not leave without finding out how I could help her.

So, I pulled back into the parking lot to talk to her.

She says that she truly is homeless...that she sleeps at a shelter one or two nights a week, and that she sleeps in her car the rest of the time. She has a pay-as-you-go cell phone, but no money to buy "minutes" for it.

Either she was very genuine or she is a great actress, because she appeared to be near tears during part of our brief conversation.

Rather than ask her a lot of personal questions, I walked back into the Walmart and bought her a cell phone with 300 minutes on it. As I carried it out of the store and began activating it, I realized that she had no way to charge the new battery. I checked the (fully-charged) battery in my phone and discovered that it was a match for the new phone. So, I swapped batteries, finished activating the phone, and took it to her.

She seemed genuinely thankful: "This will make it so much easier to hunt for a job! I've been able to call companies, but I haven't been able to give them a number to call me back."

Maybe after I left she sold the phone. Probably I'll never know. But I feel good knowing that I did something. Discovering that I had been conned wouldn't feel nearly as bad as knowing that I did nothing.

Maybe my enthusiasm wasn't for the campgrounds themselves. Perhaps campgrounds are just great vehicles for expressing my real passion: helping others.