Something that has served me well in every part of my life is finding where the light comes into a room. Whether I am in a hospital, a funeral home, a family room, a new build, a church, or a school – I have found myself looking to see where the sun peaks through, where the light is able to come into a room. And right now, it is no different.
Spring is on its way, and I have found myself staring out at a creek bed, with butterflies in the clouds, and a tree that looks like a good spot to think, and I wonder if this is why people never want to leave Appalachia. That maybe between the high peaks of the mountains and the lazy green fields, there is a space for them to finally ground themselves, to take a break from the busy and noisy world and just be.
We were talking to a client this last week about the impact of trauma and how strong trauma can be when it comes from something like a disaster. Words and phrases like PTSD, trembling, gaps in memory, all floated through my head, all too aware of the language he was using. He talked about how important it was to stay close to this land, to be part of it, again, after everything that had happened. And later that same day, I found myself face to face with the beauty of Appalachia, and the way it all seems to sing to you, in quiet whispers, giving you a safe space to land.
But how do we do that for one another when the land we love becomes unsettling itself? How do we ground ourselves in a world that feels like it’s constantly shaking, moving just a tad too quickly for us to keep up, a never-ending finish line we just can’t quite reach?
The first thing this client talked about was the idea of neighbors, and ASP’s theme this year, is “love thy neighbor” so when he said this – it all clicked into place for me. He said the first person who came to see if they were okay was a neighbor, checking to see how to get to them, to move debris out of the way so they could get out of their driveway.
Mr. Rogers, a cultural icon and all-around sunshine kind of human, is famously quoted for a lot of wonderful ideas, especially as it pertains to loving your neighbor. But something else I remember him saying fondly is to “always look for the helpers.” And in doing this, it changes how you see the world.
That same day, sitting near that creek, as I was thinking over everything that had happened in Appalachia, the neighbors who had come knocking, the helpers that exist in ASP and all around in different organizations and agencies, it was easy for me to see where the light got in. If the clouds floated in a particular way, if I tilted my head just right, it became glaringly obvious to me where the light poured in.
I have seen others help others, have witnessed love in airports and grocery stores, on the ground after disaster, in places we expect it, and in places that perhaps maybe we don’t. I prayed that this world would be willing to let the light in, only to realize it already has.
And perhaps if we all take a second to notice where the light gets in, we can change the world we thought wasn’t changeable.
–
Chloe B.
Social Work Intern
