I cried at work today.  Something I would never have imagined doing after working over 15 years in the for-profit business world, focusing on developing products, writing marketing plans, increasing revenues and being a successful executive that achieved results.  I never dreamed of a job where “escucha activa,” basically just listening, would have such impact, and where a smile and a hug would be such a fulfilling reward—a job which would teach me about myself and remind me daily of what is really important in life and how extremely fortunate I am.

For the past seven months I have worked at the Antigua site of Common Hope in the employment training program (PODER).  I’ve learned how to negotiate the labyrinth of municipal offices to obtain the paperwork which every Guatemalan needs in order to apply for work.  I’ve learned how to coach those looking for work to navigate the extremely invasive (yet completely legal) personal questions which they will face in a job interview.  I’ve learned that working six days a week for less than a dollar an hour makes one lucky. 

When Doña Bernarda entered the office with her four-year-old in tow we greeted her and offered her a chair.  She had come to ask for help in preparing her employment paperwork and to see if we knew of any available positions.  She looked tired and seemed worried, so before embarking on “business” we asked her how she was, how things were with her children and at home.  After a moment’s hesitation, she knew she was in a place where she could talk freely and began to tell us her story. 

A few months earlier her husband had died and left her alone with their four children.  The oldest was in high school but had recently been accused of a serious crime, which had caused a rift in her relationship with her sister and various legal problems.  She was feeling alone and desperate and had decided to ask for help in looking for a job to support her kids.  As she spoke of her problems, tears began to trickle down her cheeks.  Her 4-year-old looked up into her face from her lap, reached up with her little fingers and wiped the tears from her mother’s face, whispering “It’s okay, Mama.” 

The reality was there was not a lot we could do for Doña Bernarda in that moment, and her search for work would be complicated by her child care needs and the legal issues she faced.  But I was amazed by the change in her demeanor after she had shared her burdens with us.  After she left the office, my colleague and I talked about her situation.  As we remembered the sweet, simple act of her daughter I felt a lump well in my throat and tears began to burn my own eyes.

I’ve learned that while I can’t change what life has dealt for other people, I can listen, and sometimes that makes enough of a difference to help someone move forward. 

Read more volunteer reflections

back to top