How has NCL changed me? What does volunteerism mean to me?

Attempting to answer questions like these on a Sunday night seemed too philosophical for me in my exhausted, end-of-weekend state.

These questions pertained to a speech I must write for my National Charity League graduation ceremony, called Senior Presents.

NCL is a mother-daughter philanthropy organization that has branches throughout the country. My mother and I have been members of the Granite Bay branch for the maximum of six years.

Now, both of us are preparing to say goodbye.

Along with giving a speech, the 25 seniors are expected to put together a slideshow of photos of themselves at various stages from baby to senior set to whatever music they choose.

In my opinion, the slideshow is meant to alleviate the sobriety of the entire evening. It is a chance for the strangers in the room to get to know each girl in approximately 1½ to 2 minutes.

However, the speech is the real farewell. With 25 very different girls, the speeches are bound to have completely different subjects and tones, but the underlying theme always comes back to growth.

This broad term could mean growth as a friend, growth as a philanthropist, growth as a daughter, growth as a member of this community or even growth as a person.

But if I have grown at all during my six years in NCL, it is in my ability to love.

In a sense, love encompasses all of those "growths," because for each of my examples you must learn to love yourself or someone other than yourself to have really grown.

Although, I occasionally complained to my mother about being dragged to pointless meetings or argued with her whether wearing stockings with skirts (for the teas and recognition events) was really necessary, I will generally look back at NCL with very fond memories.

I will remember the time that I met an old woman named Martha Bobby, who opened my eyes to my horrible fingernail-painting skills.

I will remember the kids from the Roseville Family Resource Center who kicked my butt at Chutes and Ladders, and the little girl who thanked me for helping her make the most lop-sided and structurally unsafe gingerbread house I've ever seen.

I will remember the tiny dog named Buddy who could wear a sweater more stylishly than any supermodel, despite being abandoned at the SPCA for "licking too much."

Most of all, I will remember all of the goodness and love that I felt from just getting to know those individuals.

I sincerely hope, that the other 24 girls in my senior NCL class have had the opportunity to feel the same way.