Young social worker and now, just human

I’ve been making home visits since I was 22 and had to flip through a giant book of maps (aka Thomas Guide) to figure out where I was going! I’ve always loved being with people in their own environment which helps me to know and support them better.

I’ll never forget when I was working in southeast and south central LA and my LAPD family member met me for lunch one day. He was shocked and dismayed that I was entering some of the homes. He was so scared for me, and I was truly saddened that he only knew the underbelly and not the many wonderful families I’d connected with. (Which is a whole other conversation about trauma and inequity for another day) I wasn’t always skilled and I was not always greeted warmly, but for the most part, once parents understood I was there to help, many seemed to appreciate that I’d come to them.

It always just felt more human. I’m so system averse that, as with everything, it relates back to my preference for ancestral practices of relationship, community, connection.

So with the fire relief effort, even though I often met with familias at a specific location back to back in order to distribute funds as quickly as possible, I still make home visits whenever I can.

First of all, I’m not doing this as a social worker anymore, but as a fellow human. Humans visit each other. Humans reach out to each other with help. At a time when so many were running from resource to resource, I felt grateful to make things just a little easier when I could.

And again, proximity heals. BecauseI have met familias and elders in shelters, hotel rooms, staying in nooks with friends/families, making the best of RV’s, in FEMA trailers and overpriced apartments, nothing is abstract. The need is etched in the heart because I’ve seen each person in the details of their displacement. Seen the ways they and we make home in the unlikeliest of places and moments. I think of the mamas who’ve cried to me in these small spaces, overwhelmed. I think of the wise children finding creative play spaces. I think of my own 8yo old self lying on a cot in the middle of someone’s living room while my father did another stint in jail. I remember my unquestioning acceptance which gives me hope for the little ones (plus the fact they still have their families).

I have seen alot of hardship AND I also see

courage,

adaptability,

resilience,

tenacity and

grace.

Above all else, a generous grace within each person, a home inside the heart,

un hogar en el corazón

that can never be taken away.

May we all return to this.

Please keep the displaced in your prayers