Human beings are endlessly adaptable. That’s how we live in places as diverse as the Yukon Territory and Panama. I would argue this adaptability is our greatest strength as well as our greatest weakness. Yes, we can and do take care of ourselves in all sorts of situations. But at the same time, we lay waste to our climate and the natural world at the expense of our future.

Sometimes, our adaptation skills are needed RIGHT NOW—to escape a flood, catch a falling child, or slam on the brakes to avoid a collision. But other times, we adapt so slowly, we kinda don’t notice it.

I would argue that over the course of the pandemic, we used both of those skill sets. The shutdown was quick. Suddenly we were all at home, and complaining about it A LOT. (Admittedly not the best coping skill.) But over time, we got busy learning how to bake bread, paint landscapes, identify the birds at our feeders, or finally reach the bottom of the book pile by our favorite chair.

After a while it was kinda nice to stay home. We liked it. But that adjustment happened so gradually, more or less over the course of three years, we didn’t immediately understand how much we had changed until lockdown ended.

I recently had an occasion to meet that dichotomy head on. I’ve been on the lookout for a volunteer opportunity of the Goldilocks variety—one that’s just right. Not tied to a computer or one that requires some sort of over-and-over production work. I started off doing a weekly newsletter for a local resistance group but it quickly became a “been-there-done-that” experience. I love books so I checked into a used-bookstore startup but there were A LOT of stairs involved, and my achy joints objected.

I finally found my personal Goldilocks slot at one of the Upper Valley’s newest nonprofits, rePlay Arts in White River Junction, VT. This is a place that recycles donated art supplies back into the community, and I discovered it’s a fun place to volunteer.

Since I’m the instigator of the Haven Hats project that rePlay Arts is supporting, I figured lending a hand was important. So I showed up on a Saturday morning in late November to work on their yarn supply, and was immediately attracted by these wizard hats worn by two young men prowling the shop. We had a lively conversation about crocheting—one of the guys made both hats—and then it was onto helping a newbie crocheter pick out colors for her first project, welcoming the very first donation for the Hats for the Haven, untangling a spider’s web of yarn so it could go on the shelf, chatting with friends who wandered in, and admiring a hat that looked something like a goose in flight worn by a man with a white beard.

It may have been Santa on a reconnaissance mission. Still not sure.

By the time twilight started sweeping the streets (it does that early this time of year), it was time to go home.

With a great big smile on my face.

I’ve volunteered for one organization or another—even founded one of my own—for decades. That all stopped during the lockdown. After that Saturday at rePlay Arts, I realized how much I had missed it.

It was great to find it again.