I considered myself one of the lucky ones. As I boarded the plane, ready to leave cold Connecticut for a Youth Convention in California, I thought to myself how lucky I was. A trip to California, to be with nearly 1,000 other teenagers from around the world, sightseeing, fun; better yet, my synagogue was sending me all expenses paid… what more could I ask for?

The theme of the Convention was "Charity, Community, and Responsibility." Led by other teens from around the United States, we participated in study groups, led community outreach events, collected food for the hungry, attempted to cheer up children bedridden in the hospital, met with homeless people, and participated in an incredible three-mile Walk Against Hunger.

We walked the steepest street in America, visited a monument to the Holocaust, walked through the streets of San Francisco, and drove through Silicon Valley. Those of us from Connecticut raised $1,820.00 for charity - close to 10% of the more than $20,000 raised in all during the single-day, Walk Against Hunger. This was an impressive feat from our group of 23, representing less than 2% of the total Convention population. Written and video press coverage notwithstanding, the walk was amazing: nearly 1000 teenagers walking three miles through the streets of San Francisco, marching to end hunger.

The date was Tuesday, December 28th, and as I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, high above the choppy water below and my hair whipping around in the wind, I became lost in thought. After nearly a week of helping those in need I felt strangely different. When I had left for the trip I had felt lucky - nothing could have shaken me off of my exuberant, excited high. But now, after seeing how lucky a homeless man had felt when given a hot meal, or how the face of a crippled child lit up when given the card I had spent no more than five minutes making, I didn't feel so lucky about being in California.

And, as my friends and I counted down to the New Year together, I suddenly realized what I had felt on the Bridge. When I stopped feeling so lucky about California it wasn't because I didn't want to be there, it was because I had realized the real reason why I was lucky; I have a loving family, a house to live in, a school to attend, things I enjoy doing, close friends to hang around with, and a reason to live.

As we watched the New Year's Eve come and go, many of us were worried that our cell phones might not work, or that we might lose power for a few hours. Imagine all the people who, instead of worrying about which parties to attend and which people to see, spent the evening worrying about when they'd get to eat again, or when their next shower might be.

Most of us have it pretty easy. We get up out of our warm beds, grudgingly, to attend a school that isn't necessarily all we want it to be. We go home, or sometimes to a job we may or may not enjoy, and then eventually have a good meal for dinner and possibly spend some time with our families. Then, maybe after doing homework and watching some TV we decide to turn in for the night, as sleep threatens to invade our senses. After a restful sleep we wake up, and the cycle begins again.

In our busy lives, an hour seems like too much time to "waste," but to a child that will never walk again, or to a poor family that has trouble getting food for their children, an hour can make an incredible difference in their lives. Reach out and touch someone less fortunate than you. Not because you have to, or because you are told to, but because you want to. Make someone else feel as lucky as you truly are.