Dear Friends of Free Arts,
The end of the calendar year, with its busyness related to work, school, and upcoming holidays, often provokes mixed emotions in people. For the children, teens, and families that Free Arts serves, this time of year can surface their ongoing feelings regarding change, loneliness, and loss. For everyone who experiences the trauma of abuse, neglect, and homelessness, there is loss. The forms can look like a loss of self, safety, connection, and beloved circumstances. The bright and joyful holiday season may also create comparisons with others that can make them feel worse since happier feelings about the holidays seem far away.
We often discuss at Free Arts how empathy is our superpower. Empathy is an intentionally brave choice for a person to access something within themselves that might know what it is like to feel the way another person does. The power is realized when someone is comforted by having their experience noticed and validated in a caring, supportive way. It is why we vent or share with close friends and family when we are under stress or develop imaginary, inspiring relationships with relatable fictional characters.
Because you are reading this, you are likely one of the brave people willing to learn about the experiences of others and allow yourself to be affected and motivated to act by what you learn. As I think about empathy in the work of Free Arts, I often silently access spaces of memory and experience that know loss and grief. One that I am willing to share occurs in this season. On January 1, 2022, my Dad died from complications from a double lung transplant that he received in 2018 as a result of a long lung-related illness. He was 69.
I mention my Dad because, for me, the constant shadow of his loss will always accompany the anticipation of a New Year and its festive celebrations. The afternoon my Dad died, several other family members were with me, sitting and waiting for the eventual, and in a moment when some of us were distracted by a football game, he slipped away. As I write this, I imagine that you, dear friend of Free Arts, may be noticing your related feelings of loss and grief – that is empathy. I want you to know that relationships, good and bad, present and former, are the fertile soil that allows us to care deeply enough to make the work of Free Arts a reality.
For many reasons (some that I may share at the right time and space in the future), my relationship with my Dad was supportive but also mixed with complicated hurt and grief even before his death. I share this not for personal attention but to highlight how individual experiences can help build our empathic motivation for supporting an organization like Free Arts. One gift I received from my parents’ example was witnessing how working with vulnerable and hurting people could be a life-long effort that builds meaning. In short, I know my “why” for spending my professional life devoted to the helping professions of teaching, social work, and human services leadership.
In a conversation with Miller, our consultant from the Miller Consulting Group, he shared a quote with me about purpose, “If your ‘why’ doesn’t make you cry, it is not big enough”. This quote illuminates a critical point pretty clearly. I believe our greatest joys and satisfaction in life come from our creation and participation in personal meaning. When you encounter complicated feelings of loss, you are very close to what mystics call “the thin space,” where an encounter with your ultimate meaning beckons. Which makes me wonder, if we didn’t have moments that make us cry, how would we know what matters most?
At Free Arts, we play a vital role in lives that have experienced hurt and neglect with intentional art that has shown itself powerful enough to comfort, connect, and inspire connection and growth. It is delivered by people who know that part of their meaning in life is working with others to alleviate the suffering of others. This happens in an afternoon at a Free Arts day, over the course of several intense days in a camp, or weekly in group mentoring experiences with volunteer mentors and artists.
One of the inspiring things about watching this happen is that being present and witnessing the experiences of others is part of caring for ourselves, too. The parts of us that need care are part of our “why”. I hope this short year-end blog will help you connect to your “why.”
While I wish there were less suffering in the world, I take comfort in noticing how your gifts, volunteerism, and professional devotion all contribute to creating healing opportunities and transforming trauma into resilience. When we make room for the experiences of Free Arts participants, we make room for a journey to well-being for everyone. Your support makes a difference because your “why” connects caring people together (that is a pretty big “why”!). And that kind of connection is the most powerful meaning that I can think of.
