Yesterday was THE DAY. The day that we had a presentation
for one of our funders. It is a HUGE deal and I woke up with no voice. Yep. I
rasped my way through that sucker and sounded like the godfather of nonprofits.....
Leave some money, take the cannoli.
Seriously, in the elevator two hours before the presentation
I was stressing out and thought, today I want to be a potter.... pottist? potterier...
Hmm... Whoever makes clay pots on a pottery wheel, that is who I want to be
today. The thought of an escape of any kind was like a sweet 5 minute vacation
from the reality the I would soon be standing in front of 14 people telling
them why we needed them to give us money, and that I would deliver the speech
sounding like the frog whisperer.
Lately I have been feeling a little burned out.Compassion fatigue I think they call it. Really it is,
"there is so much red tape trying to help people that don't really want to
be helped fatigue". It's exhausting. I don't know how social workers work
more than two years before running from their offices, screaming and hiding
from the world in a remote mountain cabin or desert island for the rest of
their lives.
Some people really just sort of suck and that is just
reality.
The presentation I think went well, and if the 14 people
that were there for funding purposes didn't enjoy it, that’s okay, I enjoyed it.
I was reminded of why I get up in the morning and go to the job that exhausts
me.
I cried.
This won't come as a surprise to anyone that knows me because
I cry about everything. Good, bad, happy,
sad, I cry.
I cried in front of the people that were there for the
presentation. I am not sure if anyone saw me, and I think I hid it well, but in
hind sight I wish I would have just let the tears flow.
The people that I work with are awesome. We have the best
yet worst jobs in the world. We are those "we are the world" saps
trying to make a difference. Today in just 10 minutes of a young girl’s time, I
saw it. She painted a picture for our funders of what we do, and she showed us
as well. And I cried. And I am not ashamed.
Now back to the potterierister or whatever.
People are much like pottery. They are molded and shaped by
their family and the people around them. As they grow they find their own
designs and paint their lives the colors they choose. Along the way there are
people, us, every one of us in the world, and as they pass by us we can ignore
them or we can try and throw little something positive at them. Sometimes it
bounces off their sides or it's a rim shot and ALMOST makes it. Other times whatever we are throwing their
way, if carefully aimed, makes it in or sticks to the side.
Unfortunately, the kids that we work with are often molded
and shaped by people that are terrible at making pottery and screw up these
little vessels. And we can't fix them. They have to fix themselves. What we can
to do is give them the tools to figure out how to make the repairs, and then
cheer them on along the way.
We are all potterieristers.... every day.
Let us be careful with our clay.
