The First Year

It is daunting to start something. What if it fails? What if I cannot raise the money? What if the program does not work? What if I am stepping into something that is not needed? What if I cannot find the right staff? What if I am all alone in this vision? What if the community does not support or embrace what we are doing? What if it sucks the life out of me and I burnout?

Fortunately, I hardly asked any of those questions. I just did it. As they say, “innocence is bliss,” or naïveté is good. Quite frankly, I think I just put one foot in front of the other, and I did what made sense to me. Sure, lots of people prayed over the beginnings of Elizabeth House. The whole thing was basked in prayer before we ever took in our first resident. And if I didn’t know what I was doing, I just surrounded myself with people who did.

I think the hardest thing for me in the beginning was to believe that we could actually make a difference in the lives of the women we took in. On one hand, I expected that these women would come in and their lives would change by osmosis. That the beautiful home and the lovely room furnishings would cause them to be incredibly and over-flowingly grateful. That the staff and volunteers that poured into their lives would feel appreciated. That from here on out, their choices would reflect the “love” that we gave them. I think back on that mindset now, and quite frankly, it makes me sick.

What kind of altruistic attitude is that? I am there to “save” these lost and hopeless human beings? That by some magic wand, I can wipe away all the hurt and pain and trauma that they have experienced?

The flip side is that this type of work is hard. It takes grit and commitment and passion. It requires a level of “gentle hardness.” You have to be thick-skinned and tough, yet soft and ever so tender. In 28 years, my prayer has always been to never become calloused or jaded. Every single story is a new story – one that we have never heard before. One that deserves our full listening, knowing, our mindful presence and prayerful attention. Every mom that comes through our doors is there for a reason, and we have the incredible honor of loving on her, and in so doing, we are forever changed in the process.