Hailey Rinella shared this reflection at the final program of Jesuit Volunteer Orientation – the Sending Forth Service. She wrote most of this reflection the spring, but updated it after having finished her first year of service at the end of July. She just began her second year of service in Sitka, Alaska, as the Youth Mentor and Skills Trainer at Youth Advocates of Sitka.
A boy comes to the beach after a storm to find hundreds—thousands—of starfish laying on the beach. Knowing that they will die without water, the boy begins throwing starfish back into the ocean, one at a time.
An old man finds the boy and asks “Why bother? You can’t save them all.”
The boy holds a starfish in his palm. “It matters to this one” he says as he releases it into the ocean.
Many graduates leave college ready to change the world, but changing the world is not something that comes between the pages of your hundred-dollar textbook. I came into my service year ready to make as much of a difference as humanly possible within the window granted. Armed with research, data, and passion, I was ready to learn how I could contribute to permanent supportive housing and end chronic houselessness. I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! But was I actually ready?
Reality hit hard in my first few weeks as a case specialist within a permanent supportive housing apartment complex at Terry Reilly Health Services in Boise, ID. Why am I here? What is my purpose? Am I really doing anything? People praised me for being an essential part of their community, telling me I was doing important work, but doubt crept in. I slid quickly from the mindset of changing the world to thinking that the world will never change; it struck me. I was becoming the old man, wrapped up in my ego, when I wanted to be like the boy—holding and valuing each starfish.
A resident opened up to me about his childhood abuse. A resident was in tears when I brought him a “get well” card while he was at the hospital. A resident smiled so wide when I handed him a second serving of lunch. Another resident wrote me a thank you note after I helped her with her computer. Another resident told me “thank you” after we sat in her depression together. Countless little stories come to mind. These are little, seemingly insignificant moments that will not take all people off the streets, cure everyone from depression and addiction, or end the systematic cycle of poverty. BUT, that moment mattered to that person. Like the boy with the starfish, I see that these moments add up, leading to collective power that changes the world. I will never fully know what difference is made, but the weight of the one starfish in my palm keeps me going.
Over my last day of service, my residents and I laughed, ate pizza, hugged, talked, smiled, and shed a few tears. As I got ready to leave my service site for the last time, I began to realize that I had spent my year questioning how I could better hold others, not stopping to consider the ways my residents held me and changed my life.
I was a starfish in the palms of my residents at New Path and perhaps, they will never realize the full impact they had on my life either.
