Similarly to Ed Kennedy in I am the Messenger, I dreaded yet anticipated the third "good deed" I had to preform. When our English teacher said we would have to do something for a member of our immediate family, there was a collective sigh of relief throughout the classroom. "Oh, this will be easy," we thought.
"This must but done secretly, without anyone knowing. This is due Monday," Mrs. Cozzie announced. With that, we went on our merry way. Then came the hard part: What does my mother, father, or sister need that is significant? The answer would be nothing, nothing at all.
We live in a normal sized home in Evergreen Park, not a mansion in Orland Park or tiny apartment downtown. My mother is a cross between Betty Crocker and Martha Stewart on metaphorical steroids. Needless to say, our house is nearly spotless. I say nearly because after looking around I realized my mother despised cleaning the chandeliers and we have three. That was my task.
Most people spend their Friday nights at parties or hanging out with friends. Myself, on the other hand- I spent two hours cleaning crystals on lights by hand.
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My mother still has yet to realize I cleaned them.
Marist students serve others. I am beginning to realize that because I am doing these acts of kindness, there is no pressure; I am simply doing what I feel is necessary or what would be helpful for others. I may or not be recognized for preforming the good deeds but it still feels good to help and serve others.
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