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For years I never volunteered for anything – my services to the community were nonexistent. It was a dry spell that was only interrupted when I decided to volunteer for a nonprofit in Salida, Colo., that aided low income families and the homeless. It looked like a storm might break out and rain on my desert of community service but no such luck. After spending only a few hours sorting through hand-me-down clothes, I left and never returned.
It was a sad state of affairs – I had been on a roll in high school with offering help to others. I served Jell-O during suppertime at a homeless shelter in Denver; I used a drill to install a door frame on a home being built by Habitat for Humanity; I wore an orange vest and plastic gloves to pick up trash off of the highway.
Laziness, it seems, slowly sucked up my motivation to extend a helping hand to different causes and organizations.
I stood by that statement that is often spoken “I just don’t have the time.”
Lately, I realize I do have the time – there is always time to pitch in.
What provoked me to change my ways is rather peculiar: the newspaper’s obituaries.
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