Turning Stones.

     A lot of people have asked me why I am going in to social work. Ha, sometimes they look at me like I am going to be one of those weird Psychologist eccentrics that gets all uppity trying to find answers to everything through the scholarly theories of man. That's not who I want to be.  I want to help people.  Particularly the little ones.  So, I figure now is as good of a time as ever to tell why I love social work so much, and the development of that love.   I applaud you if you read this whole thing.   A little personal (and it is very personal) history (part of my application essay):

      When I was seven years old I started seeing a family therapist for various reasons.  I didn’t really understand all of it at the time; I just knew that it was supposed to help me not feel my “scared bugs” as my dad would affectionately call them.  Some of my “scared bugs,” or anxieties, included being obsessed with the idea that I was suddenly dying of heart attack, getting extremely sick from germs, or being taken out of my room at night.  I would constantly be checking my fingernails to see if they were turning purple.  If I felt any sort of pain in my left arm, I rushed to tell my mom so she would know what to do.  I washed my hands so frequently that they dried, cracked, and bled.  When I would make my bed in the morning, it was a little makeshift bed on the floor of my parent’s room because I refused to sleep alone.  It wasn’t always like this, but it was like this frequently enough that my parents decided it would be a good idea to get me to a therapist.  I would go for phases at a time, depending on my progress, then stop for a while to see how I did on my own.  I was put on medication at ten years old; that helped too.  It wasn’t until about ninth grade that we finally got my medication, and the skills necessary to control my anxiety, figured out.  It was also around that time that I started being personal and open and I would share, hoping that others would share with me in return.  I wouldn’t mind telling people about the troubles that I had faced, and sometimes still continued to, because in a way, it allowed for walls to be broken down and we were able to learn from each other.  Because of the things I had been through as a troubled seven year old, I understood the possible vulnerabilities that others might be facing as well.  Because of what I had been through, I learned to have a sensitivity to people and an insight to the unexpressed.  

Dr. Calloway-Graham said that she was fifteen years old when she realized that social work is a calling and that it was what she knew she wanted to do with her life.  July 1, 2007 was that day for me.  I was also fifteen years old.  I wept.  It was a sacred experience to me. I remember talking about it with my parents, and having a sort of empowered feeling knowing that so often the best kind of help can come from someone who has experienced, even in some small way, similar difficulties and that my life is not my own.  I need to serve.   I wanted to use the hardship I had experienced, and turn it into strengths that could help others.  July 1, 2007 was the day I knew I wanted to be a children’s therapist.  I wanted to do what my therapist had done for me and so many other little ones.  Ever since then, I have had no question of what I wanted to do with my life.   Ever since then I have only tried to amplify the qualities that I began to develop in my childhood and early teens - qualities of empathy, insight, sensitivity, openness, the desire to learn, the desire to teach, and especially the desire to empower and encourage.

     I recently finished reading a book for my SW 2400 class called Turning Stones.  It's the story of a man who was a caseworker for a children's welfare service in NYC.  Heavy read.  Super heavy read.  Not for the faint of heart by any means.  In fact, the first night I started reading this, I had a bit of a panic attack:  "Can I really do this?! Can I really be exposed to this kind of tragedy and live MY life happily too?  Will I be able to make any sort of impact on kids who have experienced these kinds of things?"  After a quick prayer and an email from my inspired dad (remember THIS miracle post?), I was overwhelmed with a resounding "YES."  While the stories that Marc Parent tells in this book are absolutely horrific, it is brilliantly written and inspiring.  In the last few chapters he tells a story about how a group of nuns went on a field trip of sorts.  They would drive all over their state, and stop at beautiful sights, and then they would climb right back on to the bus to go to the next one.  At each stop, one of the nuns - an old, fragile lady - would go off a ways, and simply turn over some random rock.  Soon all the other nuns started noticing, so they asked her why she did this strange ritual.  Confidently the old woman responded, "I turn a stone so that the place is different because I have been there."  At the next stop the other nuns, reflecting on her words, couldn't help but do the same.  Without letting each other see, they quickly flipped one over with their toe, or discretely turned one over while bending down to tie their shoe.  In the next few bus stops, they no longer worried about discretion, but were flipping rocks openly!  They began to challenge and encourage one another to move bigger stones!  They worked together to push over the heavier ones, and indeed, left every place "different" because they had been there.  

     Why do you think Marc Parent told this story after experiencing some of the darkest nights of his life?  Because it is what Social Workers do.  It is what I want, so badly, to do.  He said, after he learned the very hard way, that you can't measure change.  "I'd been quantifying my actions with the families I visited.  The lives I encountered were so thoroughly stained with hopelessness and despair that I saw nothing I could do in a single evening to turn things around - and if I couldn't make it all right, if I couldn't split the earth in half, then what was the use?"  The opportunity is to "touch a life at a critical moment and make it better - [maybe] not for a lifetime - but for a moment.  One moment - not to talk, but to act - not to change the world, but to make it better."  To me, that is in fact changing the world.  Small can be great.  Thinking systematically is hard and sometimes quite ineffective.  Thinking individually first,  and then working together to turn over even the biggest stones is better.  Micro, then Mezzo, then Macro.  Kinda that "pay it forward" concept, I guess.  Individuals matter.  

     I love the talk given in this last conference, "Protect the Children" by Dalin H. Oaks.  Beautiful.  Inspiring.  Encouraging beyond measure.  "We are all under the Savior's command to love and care for each other and especially for the weak and defenseless.  Children are highly vulnerable.  They have little or no power to protect or provide for themselves...Children need others to speak for them, and they need decision makers who put their well-being ahead of selfish adult interests."  

Doesn't all of this make you want to stand up, march right up to any child you know and give him or her the biggest, love-transferring hug you can can possibly give?!  Oh, I love the little ones.  I admire them immensely.  They are the ones changing the world!   I'm so excited to be able to give little ones any sort of light in these ever-darkening times.  I'm so excited to be enabled through the Savior and to learn to love them in the most Christ-like way my human self possibly can.  I can't wait to have my own - to teach them and give them everything I can. 

      It is a process, and accepting that we aren't going to "split the earth in half" doesn't mean tolerating big problems, it means giving encouraging words, kissing ouchies better, gently teaching a principle, allowing the sky to be the limit.  It means real change that we can do every single day.....

THAT is why I want to be a social worker.