Blurred Hope

During the day, I see a lot of disheartening things. I meet a lot of people that threaten any optimism left inside of me.

A couple of months ago, I met with a young mom who was living with a friend in a trailer in the backwoods. She moved with her baby from home to home, friend to friend. That particular friend ran her down with his truck two days after kicking her out. She was highly addicted to meth, running with the wrong crowd.

I removed her baby, and placed the baby with relatives. This shook her up good. It was the wake-up call that she needed. She was excited about treatment. I hooked her up with an inpatient center to detox. She had great family support. We had a plan.

I just knew that she was going to make it. She was going to beat that meth beast. She had all of the ingredients to be a success story. I remember telling a coworker that if she doesn't get it together than I have lost all hope in humanity.

She was arrested last week. Active meth lab. Come to think of it, we don't have all that many success stories.

This job is changing me. I was duped a couple of times early by the addicted and the manipulative. And I've been lied to more times than not. Now, my instinct is to doubt, be cynical, to distrust until proven otherwise. I feel bits of belief and confidence in people being squeezed out of me like a tube of toothpaste.


I don't want my heart to become hard. Somehow, these experiences can't kill my hope.

But this post was not supposed to be negative or discouraging. It was supposed to be quite the opposite because I spent the evening working with a handful of generous, hardworking individuals that have made untold sacrifices to help one young boy. We stayed late, hashing out ideas and creating goals and crisis plans, all for the hope that this time will be the last time that boy has to be dropped off at an inpatient facility.

My vision may be blurry. But there is still hope. There is always hope!

I see it in relatives that take in a troubled child, counselors that clear their schedules, and school teachers that work overtime. When a parent loses sight of the priority that is their child, others rise up to fill in the gaps. It isn't always seamless, but it's selfless. And it emanates hope.