By Anita Todd

WINTER HAVEN – When I agreed to chaperone my grandson’s field trip to a local nonprofit, I didn’t stop to think much about where we were going. If my grandchildren ask me to go somewhere, I go, simple as that. His 4th grade class of 10-year-olds was scheduled to help serve meals to about 100 people in need that day.

Before the children began, the chaperones were cautioned to stay close to our kids. We were told to make sure no one touched them and to be aware that someone might say something unkind. For me, those words stirred an instinct to protect. For a fleeting moment, I considered scooping up my “baby” and leaving. Surely, I thought, he didn’t need to be exposed to something like this.

Then the doors opened, and people began filing into the dining room.

I watched as my grandson, beaming with excitement, moved from table to table in the little apron they had given him, plastic gloves slightly too big for his hands. He poured glass after glass of water, asked guests exactly how they liked their coffee, handed out napkins, whether they were needed or not, and eagerly cleared trays.

But what struck me most wasn’t what he was doing, it was how he was doing it.

He didn’t see these guests the way I initially had. He didn’t see differences or labels. He saw people. He smiled easily, made conversation, and listened. One guest tipped him a dollar, which he immediately donated back to the nonprofit. Another jokingly challenged him to a spaghetti-eating contest. There were fist bumps, high fives, and laughter exchanged across tables.

And that’s when the tears came.

My heart swelled as I realized how wrong I had been. I felt humbled, and a little ashamed, that I had questioned whether he should be there. The truth was, not only did he need to be there, but I did too.

I found myself thinking about statistics I had read about homelessness: more than 1.1 million Americans experience it, and nearly 59 percent of Americans are one paycheck away from being unable to cover basic expenses like housing. A single unexpected event, a job loss, a medical emergency, a car repair, can put families on shaky ground fast. The line between “us” and “them” is far thinner than many of us like to believe.

Standing there that morning, I thanked God for placing us exactly where we needed to be. I was reminded that this is what life is about, showing up for one another, and offering compassion without judgment. The people we served were not different from us. They were us, just living a different chapter.

Research also shows that volunteering offers children powerful benefits. It builds emotional resilience, nurtures compassion and helps them understand life experiences beyond their own. For teenagers, volunteerism is even linked to a reduced likelihood of engaging in risky behaviors such as substance abuse.

So, I offer this simple encouragement: volunteer. Step outside your comfort zone and show up for someone else. Go on your own or bring your family. Take your children with you. And don’t limit

your kindness to the holidays—nonprofits need helping hands all year long. I dare you to go and allow your life to be changed.

That day, the children accomplished exactly what they came to do. The guests were fed, greeted with smiles, and treated with dignity. The kids learned something about the world and about service, as we hoped they would.

But maybe the most meaningful lesson, the one I didn’t expect, wasn’t just for them.

It was for me.