Growing up, I felt deeply the need to manage others' emotions, to be “good,” ensuring nothing rocked the boat. A constant undercurrent of fear, believing I was not enough yet also too much. Three years ago, stepping foot into a place called Hope Street, I faced an invitation to let down my walls of pretense. Walls I thought had kept me safe, but in reality, kept me from healing.
I have not lived in this place known as The Greenhouse for People, in a notorious Milwaukee zip code, 53206. Yet working within these walls, I’ve received a transformational gift. Belonging. Not because of my previously perfected front, my good intentions, endless revisions, or best efforts–but because I am continually invited to simply “be.” Chaos, pain, neglect, abuse–some of which I cannot begin to understand- are found in the lives of those I meet with daily in my work here. Yet, my brokenness is met with openness, too. Questioning my worth, wanting to die, believing my children were better off without me. Thinking fabricated strength was the best I could offer, wearing a mask for years, while slowly dying on the inside. Yet here, truly being met as I am and meeting others as they are, I am healing. Not through seeking to “fix” but through learning to “be.” Be still, be quiet, be present.
The Greenhouse. A place for growth.
Not only through gain, but through loss as well.
The weeding and pruning can feel so painful,
But it is purposeful.
The soil of my soul and yours, dug up and laid bare.
The bearing of one another's burdens.
I know one thing for certain–I am safe as I am here.
There’s power in belonging. My story continues to be divinely interwoven with stories from the Greenhouse for People and beyond. This is why I continue to show up in this hard, yet beautiful place. Our connectedness speaks loudly. Looking out for each other means reminding each other of what is most true. We all belong.
I have not lived in this place known as The Greenhouse for People, in a notorious Milwaukee zip code, 53206. Yet working within these walls, I’ve received a transformational gift. Belonging. Not because of my previously perfected front, my good intentions, endless revisions, or best efforts–but because I am continually invited to simply “be.” Chaos, pain, neglect, abuse–some of which I cannot begin to understand- are found in the lives of those I meet with daily in my work here. Yet, my brokenness is met with openness, too. Questioning my worth, wanting to die, believing my children were better off without me. Thinking fabricated strength was the best I could offer, wearing a mask for years, while slowly dying on the inside. Yet here, truly being met as I am and meeting others as they are, I am healing. Not through seeking to “fix” but through learning to “be.” Be still, be quiet, be present.
The Greenhouse. A place for growth.
Not only through gain, but through loss as well.
The weeding and pruning can feel so painful,
But it is purposeful.
The soil of my soul and yours, dug up and laid bare.
The bearing of one another's burdens.
I know one thing for certain–I am safe as I am here.
There’s power in belonging. My story continues to be divinely interwoven with stories from the Greenhouse for People and beyond. This is why I continue to show up in this hard, yet beautiful place. Our connectedness speaks loudly. Looking out for each other means reminding each other of what is most true. We all belong.