Friends,
The following quote by social worker and speaker Kim McManus can be found on many inspirational websites: “Your heartache is someone else’s hope. If you make it through, somebody else is going to make it through. Tell your story.”
These words resonate with me deeply, in that our community’s people have much lived experience to share, so that we may learn and weave together a genuinely healthy and strong fabric. There are so many stories I want to share, and this one comes to mind most today as I write. I’m not sure it’s a Christmas story, but it is about giving and receiving, and being our best, together.
Last year, as we began to prepare for our holiday program which pairs sponsors with families, a letter arrived in my email. I remember reading it, and then sitting and thinking for a long while. The sender began by explaining that, “In no way is this letter meant to disrespect all the support our community can receive around the holidays,” and then expressing that there is a large group of our people who, for all intents and purposes, are consistently overlooked. Especially during the holidays.
As I read on, and in the most respectful and caring of ways, the sender addressed the many, many families, often one- or two-income households and with children, for whom many programs are not accessible. As they wrote, “For us, we are farmers, we have a family and both of us work off the farm, too. We don’t have benefits, so most medical and dental needs are not covered and by the time we pay all the bills, there’s hardly anything left for groceries, let alone Christmas.”
The writer continued to point out that the pandemic and current recession has seen many more of their friends and family struggling, who would’ve before been the ones to donate to holiday programs. “I was always the one donating toys or food, to be sure everyone could have a good Christmas,” they wrote. “We didn’t have a lot extra to spare but we had what we needed. A roof overhead and food, and so we wanted to take care of other people too. And now it feels like we are the ones who need that help. But I can’t bring myself to reach out. I keep saying that there is someone out there who needs it more than us. It feels so awful.”
As I reread the letter, I could feel the weight this person was carrying, and not only themselves but the many other community members that they were bringing a voice too, as well. That’s the thing about community work. We listen to the voices of our community’s people and adapt and evolve ideas, strategies and services to what people express is needed now. And now? People need each other.
Their letter put to words this painfully human experience many are living every day. The cost of living has gone up and many wages don’t reflect that. People are working one, two or even three jobs, often without benefits, which is impacting most every aspect of our wellbeing; physical and mental health, resilience, quality of life, relationships and family.
What I thought about that night, as I sat at the kitchen counter chopping chicken and vegetables for dinner and listening to Stuart McLean’s stories of Morley and Dave, was that maybe what this writer was expressing had little to do with “stuff.” It probably wasn’t even about Christmas or the programs they mentioned. I thought to myself, as I poured olive oil into the pan, that their letter spoke to me of the basic needs we all have, regardless of our socioeconomic status – care, love and inclusion. As my dinner sizzled and the glorious smell of fresh garlic filled the kitchen, that line from the Grinch popped into my head. “What if Christmas,” he thought, “Didn’t come from a store? What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?”
What I understood, from that letter, is that people need care. Everyday people. The shame that is present when we feel like we aren’t successful enough is heavy, and so much so that in some instances, taking one’s life can seem like the better option to feeling. We need to make it easier to receive and to give.
Perhaps ideas like adopting a family on your street this season, and not because you feel they are in “need” but rather, simply because they are pretty wonderful, would make spirits bright. It certainly won’t alleviate the financial stress we are all feeling, but caring for each other can never be wrong.
Take good care of each other, friends.
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Andrea Charest is the director of the Listowel It Takes A Village location.
