An Open Letter To Those People I Work With

At some point in the future we will find ourselves sitting around the table.  Like we do now.  The lights will be low, because it creates a calmer atmosphere.  We’ll be lounging as best as we can in office chairs.

But we’ll all be a little grayer, a little older.  We’ll have a quiet moment where the crises have all been dealt with, the calls, the visits, the interventions have been made and documented, the things we need to do will have been done.   For a moment.  It will be one of those quiet lulls that we feel a little guilty having but so desperately need.

And we’ll talk.

We’ll do the “remember when”s and the “remember so and so”s.  We’ll enjoy looking back at all we’ve been through.   We’ll be nostalgic about all of the people we’ve worked with and worked together to help.

Then, it will occur to us.

All of these little things we are doing today, right now, were really big things.   The days when we ran to try and keep up was more than just busy work or things to check off.  They were fractions of whole problems that needed solved.

The endless calls we make and document?  They’re the pathways to making change for someone who needs it.

The on-going discussions and difference of opinions were all done in the name of making the best decisions we could about someone else’s life.

The frustration we dealt with by helping one another, cussing under our breath (or out loud) about the sufferings of others inflicted by others, and not having the answer to fix it-was all done because it needed done.  No matter our frustration we never shrugged our responsibilities.  And possibly took on more than we were required to do, because it was the right thing to do.

The energy we felt was wasted on endless meetings and maybe not pertaining to us trainings-well-we managed despite them.

The utter shock and horror we’ve had to witness and not react to in front of others so that we could manage to deal with what needed dealt with, tested us.  We discovered we are strong.  Know we have empathy, sympathy and compassion, and then cried in private at what we saw.

The lessons we learned from people we thought we were helping.   Who, it turns out, taught us something we never knew.   And helped us become better at what we do.

The laughter we shared amongst us, and with those we helped, often re-energized us to face it again the next day.  And the next.  And the next.

We’ll be sitting around that table.   Because one of us will be looking at retirement, or one of us will be moving on to another job, or we’ll just be reminiscing about all that we’ve done.  Because sometimes we get so caught up in the doing of something we don’t take the time to stop and pay attention to the impact of those little things.  Those little things that create change, that provide safety or comfort.

We’ll take that minute and be amazed at all we’ve done.  Because when we’re so caught up in the doing of it we can’t, or don’t, always take time to see what it is that we’re doing.

I just want to take a moment, now, to reflect on that future moment.  And to reflect on this journey to our future.   And be glad of who I’m traveling it with.