Therapy Bits

Listening, Loving, and Finding Purpose in Community Connection

There are moments in life when the world’s clatter quiets and we are left with the gentle hush of meaningful connection. In those moments, I have found, lies the true heart of volunteering—an experience that has become a touchstone in my life through my involvement with Friendly Call. To offer a listening ear to the elderly and vulnerable in our community is, in many ways, an act of subtle grace. It is also, quite simply, something I love.

To speak of how good it feels to volunteer is to try to capture sunlight in a jar. There is warmth, a quiet radiance that lingers long after each call ends. The anticipation before I dial, the hush as the phone rings, and then the soft “hello” on the other end—each moment is suffused with potential for connection, for comfort, for joy. There is a sense of purpose that stirs within me, a feeling that what I am about to do matters, perhaps more than I will ever truly know.

I remember my very first call as though it were yesterday. I was nervous, unsure. Would I find the right words? Would I be enough? But as the conversation unfolded, I realised that it wasn’t about the words themselves, but the act of listening—the gift of presence. The person on the other end, a gentle soul with stories spanning decades, did not need grand solutions or clever advice. They needed to be heard, to know that someone chose to spend time with them, to feel their voice ripple through another’s thoughts.

The experience is humbling. Each conversation is a window into a life woven with joys and sorrows, a tapestry still being crafted in the privacy of quiet rooms. There is something profoundly moving about bearing witness to these stories, fragments of hope and heartache, laughter and longing. Sometimes, the conversation meanders along familiar paths—recollections of youth, tales of distant family, reflections on the seasons’ slow turning. Other times, there is a rawness to what is shared: loss, loneliness, the ache of dreams delayed or left behind. In all of it, I am reminded of the resilience and dignity that reside in each person, no matter how frail their voice might seem.

Volunteering for Friendly Call is not only about giving support—it is also about receiving. There is a quiet reciprocity in these conversations. I have learned so much from those I call—about history, kindness, patience, and hope. There is a wisdom in their words, an unhurried way of seeing the world that invites me to slow down, to listen not just with my ears but with my heart. The gratitude they express is touching, but it is I who am most grateful. With every call, I am gently reminded of our shared humanity.

There are days, of course, when I do not feel my best, when the weight of the world presses down and I wonder if I will have anything to give. Yet I have found that it is on those very days that volunteering lifts me most. The simple act of reaching out, of focusing on someone else’s well-being, untangles the knots of my own worries. In offering comfort, I find comfort; in listening, I am heard.

To do something that I love—truly love—is a gift. I have discovered a quiet passion for being present, for holding space for others, for making a small difference in a world that is often too busy to notice. The beauty of Friendly Call is that it is not about grand gestures or dramatic acts of kindness. It is about the steady, gentle work of tending to others, one conversation at a time. There is a unique satisfaction in knowing that, for at least a few moments, someone feels less alone because of a call I made.

The elderly and vulnerable people I connect with are, in many ways, the keepers of our collective memory. They have seen the world change in ways I can scarcely imagine. They have loved and lost, laughed and grieved, learned and grown. Many of them live with a quiet dignity, their days shaped by routine and sometimes by solitude. A listening ear may seem a small thing, but for them—and, I have come to realise, for me—it is a lifeline, a thread that ties us together in the fabric of community.

There is a special kind of joy in being trusted with someone’s story. I have heard memories that shimmer with happiness—a favourite holiday, a beloved pet, a first dance. I have been told of trials and hardships survived, of lessons learned the hard way, of wisdom earned through decades of living. These stories linger with me, becoming part of my own understanding of what it means to live, to persevere, to adapt.

Sometimes, the calls are quiet. There are pauses, silences filled with gentle breathing, the hush of time passing between two people who are simply present. In these silences, I’ve discovered, there is comfort too. One does not always need to fill the space with words; sometimes, it is enough to simply be there. The knowledge that someone is on the other end of the line, listening without judgment or distraction, is a rare and precious thing.

The impact of Friendly Call is not limited to those who receive the calls. As a volunteer, I feel part of something larger—a network of caring, a community of listeners. There is camaraderie among those of us who volunteer; we share a quiet understanding of the challenges and the rewards, the heartbreaks and the joys. The sense of belonging is profound. To be surrounded, even virtually, by people who value kindness and connection is inspiring.

There is also a sense of responsibility. In a world where so many feel invisible, unheard, or forgotten, it feels all the more important to show up, to be present, to remind others—and myself—of the power of simple human connection. I believe that each call, no matter how brief or seemingly ordinary, holds the potential to change a day, a mood, perhaps even a life.

To volunteer for Friendly Call is to choose hope. It is to believe, stubbornly and joyfully, that small acts matter. It is to immerse myself in the lives of others, to celebrate their triumphs and sit with them in their troubles. It is to find fulfilment not in accolades or recognition, but in the steady, unglamorous work of kindness.

As I reflect on my experience, I am filled with gratitude. Grateful for the trust placed in me by those I call. Grateful for the lessons learned and the stories shared. Grateful for the chance to do something I love, to be part of a movement that values listening as much as speaking, presence as much as action.

Volunteering has changed me. It has opened my eyes and softened my heart. It has given me a sense of direction, a feeling of making a difference, however small. When I hang up the phone, there is a lightness in my step, a quiet contentment that stays with me. I know, deep down, that I am exactly where I am meant to be—doing what I love, for people who need it most.

And that, I think, is the greatest gift of all.