Advanced Placement Pursuit

My eyes burned from the exhaustion since the last of three 1o to 12 hour shifts this weekend at the two residential homes I work at in Somerville. Both homes are transitional facilities, one that help kids cope with emotional, behavioral and traumatic experiences from their past, and the other for young adults with mental health disorders. Every resident I have met thus far has humbled me. Behind each case is a sensible heart and a precious but fragile voice. There are pages written about their progress and the set backs they have faced. I feel foolish when I complain, for anything. My anythings are their dreams of tomorrow and I kick myself for forgetting this.

As I reenter a human services position--something I have been craving for a year now to get back into, I have become reintroduced to a fine gradient that vacillates between extreme depression and those joyous moments of hope. From the laughter in the hallways with the girls trying on different hair accessories, to the young male resident who finally found a job as an assistant at a fancy bar in downtown boston. One step closer to become a chef, he explained, exalted at the idea. I couldn't help but wonder if I had dined at the very bar he works at now, and if I would have ever guessed that he was at one point homeless. I have been sensitive to their struggles before, but never before in this light.

I am left with few words and many pangs of compassion. All I want to do is give them all the words of encouragement that I can, but I need to approach it with caution.

The depression shows itself too, but in a more subtle light. One resident couldn't wait to make lasagna for sunday lunch. I asked her when she was going to make it, and she said when she gets her food stamps for the month. She has two weeks to go. I told them we would make cupcakes together on my next shift, and I am praying I am allowed to. I wanted to offer them a trip to Dunkin Donuts, but I am not allowed to do such things so soon in my new position.

And then there was one resident in particular that stood out from the bunch. He keeps his head glued to the computer, which most of the residents are angry at him for because he takes the only seat available for the shared computer. I have spent, at one time, nearly 15 hours in the resource room with him, both of us typing away at our assignments. He has one more year until his last year of high school, and then it is time to go to college, he hopes. I introduced the idea of looking up scholarships for his dedication to the sciences, and how much he has achieved despite his rough situation. He spoke only a few words, and said that I have no idea how much he is praying for a scholarship. He is alone and without parents. All of the residents, including him, came from homeless shelters, or had been living on the streets before my employer could take them in.

He loves all fields dealing with psychology, biology and the social sciences.

I offered to help him find scholarships that look for applicants such as himself.

"It is my only way," he said. He stopped for the first time from the computer and gave me his full attention.

"You have no idea Ms. Sarah," he said.

I was glad I didn't forget this conversation the night before my second to last shift for the week. Despite my exhaustion, I ran downstairs to find a sturdy bag to hold all the books I wanted to give him before coming to the residence. I had tons of books that could help him develop his interests further. AP Psychology texts, study guides for the SAT, the GRE, and math smart workbooks. Even a biology textbook I picked up when I was considering neuroscience. For this reason, I'm glad I didn't.

Most of the books were untouched or barely written on. He couldn't be happier. He looked through all of them and told me with a soft thank you that he had a month before the SAT's, and wouldn't have to go to the library as much now that he has these books.

It is in these moments that I feel the love abound, and when I am most in my element.

I didn't understand what the purpose would be for me this weekend, after working all of these shifts. And I realize now that it is simply all about planting a seed, or having the urge to be of an encouragement to someone else. Baby steps to a grand staircase.

God will complete the rest of the task, and it is in this freedom that I know I can continue to give at a capacity that is right, for right now, and perfect for just the right person in need.

And I will continue to be humbly reminded that a blessed life is a two way street, and that his presence is my encouragement to keep on, keeping on.