Wonderful people make service worthwhile
Rebecca Hammel
For a More Just and Humane World
Anyone that might walk into my room would think I am suffering from an identity crisis. My shelves are lined with carefully placed Puerto Rican memorabilia, departure gifts upon the completion of two years of post-graduate service. When people ask me where I am from my first impulse is to say Puerto Rico, although I begrudgingly admit that I am indeed from Massachusetts.
Sometimes I ask myself how exactly this new identity emerged. I suppose that the answer would include a combination of an open heart and mind with two years of living in the Peninsula de Cantera, a humble neighborhood of San Juan, and working in community development.
I worked with a youth leadership development program, tutored school dropouts studying for the GED and taught conversational English to children. By the end of my service commitment it was difficult to go anywhere without seeing someone I knew or without being greeting by the excited shouts and hugs of children.
Leaving was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do in my life. I remember vividly my last morning in Puerto Rico when I had to say goodbye. I was talking to Waleska, a member of the youth leadership group. We had our backs turned to each other because we knew that if we looked each other in the face we would break down. We were both fighting back the tears and laughing at ourselves, not quite ready to accept the reality of life without the other's physical presence. I thought about all the times that Waleska had come to me for advice, and I humbly offered it. I remembered how I had helped her prepare for the prom and written her college recommendation. I watched her graduate from high school with high honors and had come to love her as a sister.
We both realized it was my time to go. During my last few weeks my imminent departure led me to appreciate the relationships I had formed in Puerto Rico. I realized for the first time the meaning of my presence for the teenagers with whom I worked. They expressed their affection and love in such beautiful, direct ways that I was left overwhelmed with emotion.
Now when I think of Waleska and so many others, I immediately smile and laugh. Of course I miss them terribly, but for me their memory evokes an intense awareness of the abundance of life's blessings. My response therefore is not sadness, but sincere and profound gratitude.
During my two years I was passionate about my work in community development. This allowed my life to assume a depth and sense of purpose that I before had never experienced. I was fortunate to meet, among my fellow volunteers, co-workers and the residents of the Peninsula de Cantera, wonderful people to cry and laugh with. In spite of the physical distance that separates us, I will carry them with me in my heart and mind. Through these relationships I was able to establish a strong sense of community that became the core of my experience.
I am not trying to offer an idyllic portrayal of post-graduate service, but rather a realistic one. Being a volunteer wasn't always easy. There were many frustrations and obstacles along the way but very little that is worthwhile comes without challenges. I learned to welcome life's adversity and transform it into a source of meaning. And most importantly, I learned to laugh at myself. It is amazing how your perspectives can be modified with a change in outlook and optimism.
At this moment I am not able to fully discern the life significance of my post-graduate experience in Puerto Rico. It is something that will slowly unravel with time. If I might leave you with one suggestion: Within whatever you choose to do after Notre Dame/Saint Mary's, do allow yourself to be open to whatever life might have in store for you, both the joys and the struggles, otherwise you may miss a lot.
When I lived in Puerto Rico I made a conscious choice to take risks, to create community whenever I could and to embrace life. The rewards have been immeasurable. Those that were once strangers to me are now my beloved friends, and a place that once seemed foreign has become my community. For two difficult and incredible years Puerto Rico was my home, and in a sense it always will be.
"For a More Just and Humane World," the Center for Social Concerns' column, appears every other Wednesday. Rebecca Hammel, class of '99, recently completed two years of post-graduate service with the Puerto Rico Center for Social Concerns. She is currently beginning her first year of law school and eventually hopes to enter the field of international human rights with a focus on Latin America.
All are invited to explore service opportunities at the Post-graduate Service Fair on Sept. 26 from 6 -9 p.m. at Stepan Center.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of the The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Wednesday, September 19, 2001
