I love my job. I’m not sure quite why I love it, considering I spend a lot of time cleaning, doing laundry and washing dishes, but I do. The people who frequent *work* are special. Each one has a unique story, and even though at first glance it’s easy to lump them all together, it’s fascinating to begin to see the differences. At *work* I have the opportunity to share in people’s lives in a meaningful way. Many of the people who stay in our shelter consider this place to be their home, and I am so blessed to be a part of creating that sense of community and safety.
I wish there was no need for my job. Homelessness, poverty, addiction, intoxication, and brokenness invade my sights, smells, and hearing on a regular basis. People should not have to live in a cramped and crowded space, warehoused behind the scenes because society has forgotten about them. Women should not feel the need to work the streets, accepting rides from strangers in vans, because they’re so intoxicated they can’t find their shoes or remember how to get home. Men should not sleep on cold cement, guarded from the elements by only the clothes on their back; and they shouldn’t feel it’s all they have left. Hopelessness, fatigue, and depression are all prevalent on my emotional radar.
And yet, I do believe there is hope, and I believe that *our organization*, and I, am a part of providing it. While shelter mats, cells and dorms aren’t necessarily the best solution to a massive problem, they are a start of a solution and that’s something; something which challenges the mores of society and popular culture. Tucked away off the strip is a counter cultural revolution; a place where people are treated with unconditional positive regard no matter where life has sent them. I want to be a part of that revolution. Please consider me for the .6 crisis worker position posted this July.
*Still Dreaming* BSW/RSW