I recently had the humbling experience of visiting a homeless shelter with my youth group that I joined through my mosque. Once a month, we donate fresh fruits and vegetables to the shelter, and on this visit, we cooked a meal to bring with us. The drive to reach our destination was full of windy, hilly roads, surrounded by endless greenery; it was a gorgeous day, a clear blue sky with no clouds for miles and miles. The simplicity of the country roads really amazed me, it was eerily different from the crowded highways I am used to traveling on, the ones where you can spy the iconic golden arch at each and every exit. As we reached the remote destination, I couldn’t help but feel so disconnected from the outside world. The area surrounding the shelter was a mass of fields for as far as the eye could see; it all seemed so secluded from the rest of the society.

Upon our arrival, we were greeted with sheer friendliness and politeness from the residents and the staff members, they truly look excited to see us. Although.. I’m not sure if it was us they were eager about, or the trays of delicious smelling food. As we got acquainted with the residents, I took a quick look at my surroundings: their dining hall had tables resembling a school cafeteria, a corner designated for the children to play, and a sitting area with couches that looked utterly uncomfortable. The most alarming feature of the room was the stacks of canned goods I laid my eyes upon. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how grateful these people must have been to get a home cooked meal. The sight was truly astonishing; it appeared as though there were enough canned goods to feed an army for weeks. I thought back to all the canned food drives held and schools and businesses, and although they are incredible initiatives, I couldn’t help but feel sad, wondering how many of their meals consisted of peas and carrots and peaches from a can.

After I came back to reality, I immediately starting to engage in conversations with the families there. It became evident to me that they appreciated the company just as much as the food, if not more. There were several families that were residing there, and the adults looked haggard, with deep bags under their eyes while the children wore ill stain filled clothing with pieces of hair flying every way possible. As I peered around the room once again, I saw a chore chart hanging on the kitchen door, and a list of shelter rules posted on a bulletin board. At that moment, it occurred to me that I had never truly imagined what it would feel like to be living in a house that is truly just a temporary place to call home. I gazed at the seven small children with remainders of the brownie they just devoured, the small brown crumbs strewn across the corners of their lips, and I felt a pang of guilt. I felt guilty because these children appreciated something seemingly so insignificant to me, but to them, it was a moment of complete joy. After meeting these adorable children, my goal for the rest of the afternoon was to bring them as much happiness as possible.

After visiting the homeless shelter, I became more aware of my own surroundings, and more appreciative of the life that I am privileged enough to live. I would never envy anyone in this situation, but recognizing how simple it is to make someone else happy encourages and empowers me to do more in the community. At the end of my visit, I began to view the residents as more than their economic status, but I viewed them as humans. They are people with needs and wants. The have weaknesses and strengths. They have dreams and ambitions. The only difference between myself and the families I encountered at the shelter was that they had been dealt a bad deck of cards in the gamble of life.