I want to write a little something about joy. And honestly, I’m self-conscious writing to you about joy because I don’t want you to think that I’m oblivious to the challenges our clients face or immune to the anxiety so many of us are feeling about, well, everything. I get it. Writing about joy feels like a real “read the room, David” moment.
Last month was Teen Dating Violence Awareness Month, and, throughout the month, I found myself reflecting a lot on being the Dad of a 17 and a 20-year-old. When my kids started dating, I saw my job as watching out for their safety and minimizing the hanky panky. But after working at Lutheran Settlement House, I’ve learned to expand my definition of what safety means.
At the end of every year, starting around Giving Tuesday, we ask for your help. Okay, fine, we ask lots of other times, too, but I think we can all agree there’s definitely a focus on donations before the calendar flips. The point is, every year we ask, and every year you step up, and I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but I am. Maybe surprised isn’t the right word. Touched. Moved. Humbled. Inspired. Grateful.
I’ve been thinking about the incredible highs and devastating lows of our work here at Lutheran Settlement House. This work can be tough. I’m not writing to bum you out (stick with me, I promise this gets more hopeful!), but every day, we see people caught in the housing crisis, and struggling in the economic crisis, and aging comes with so many challenges, and sometimes people don’t even know where their next meal is coming from, and sometimes they don’t even know if they’ll be safe at home.
Last week Olivia, the Director of our Bilingual Domestic Violence Program, did just about the worst thing that a person can do. She was late to a meeting. I know, right? But before you judge her too harshly, listen to what she was doing that made her late.
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