Grains of Hope

As today is the last day of my field placement at REACH Beyond Domestic Violence, I thought it would be appropriate to share some reflections about my time here. Many of my close friends know it has been a challenging year for me. Domestic violence is a tough reality to understand and its complexities often leave me feeling confused, sad, and overwhelmed. When I would find myself at get-togethers during the year, I often felt like a debbie downer as I described my field placement experience and the work that I have been doing. I sometimes caught myself wondering whether I am cut out for this type of work, whether I could personally handle the intensity of all of this. Although I have been engaging in more macro-level work, outreach and education, I find that I still take to heart and hold deeply the stories that I hear from my colleagues or become frustrated at the level of community denial that takes place around this issue.

Sitting around the table at a delicious Guatemalan/Salvadoran/Mexican restaurant today, enjoying pupusas and the company of my coworkers, I felt a wonderful glimmer of hope. These women have dedicated their lives to healing and empowering countless women, men, children, and families who have experienced the negative effects of domestic violence. These women not only serve as confidants and first responders but also activists and organizers. Reaching out to faith communities, schools, and businesses to educate on the dynamics of abuse and promote healthy relationships, they are forever seeking to "put themselves out of a job." Keeping with the theme of people who have influenced or impacted me in some way, the compassion and dedication of this wonderful group of women will always motivate me to be a part of the movement to end domestic abuse and violence in our communities and our world.

When faced with the overwhelming complexities of injustice that exist in our world--oil spills, immigration crisis, femicide, war and violence-- many may respond in apathy or perhaps feel a sense of paralysis. It's often difficult to know where to begin. Reflecting on my experience at lunch today reminds me that the small grains of hope that we have--shared conversations, food, family, community-- must be dispersed to others so that hope can grow. Despite feeling overhwhelmed at times, working at REACH over this past year has given me a strong sense of hope and renewal that the lives of a small group of people can have a powerful impact on many. I think this Denise Levertov poem helps to describe what I am feeling:

For the New Year, 1981

I have a small grain of hope–
one small crystal that gleams
clear colors out of transparency.

I need more.

I break off a fragment
to send you.

Please take
this grain of a grain of hope
so that mine won't shrink.

Please share your fragment
so that yours will grow.

Only so, by division,
will hope increase,

like a clump of irises, which will cease to flower
unless you distribute
the clustered roots, unlikely source–
clumsy and earth-covered–
of grace.