I'm Proud of my Social Worker

Whenever I see one of those “I’m proud of my honor roll student at fill-in-the-blank school” bumper stickers, it kinda drives me up the wall.  Maybe (probably) this is my own issue, as I cursed with cynicism.  Bad Laura wants to respond by creating a “My giant dog ate your honor student” bumper sticker (See, the attitude rears its ugly head).  However-even on my worst days, I get it.  Parents want to brag about the awesome stuff their kids do.  It’s a fact of life.  I mean these are mini-geniuses we spawned, so we can barely help ourselves.  But I wonder about the exclusive environment created when there is only a certain set of predetermined accomplishments to choose from for public praise.

Bronx, displaying his sign-wearing irritation by refusing to even look at me!

Because yeah, the honor roll is a big deal.  But for some kids, getting a “C” average is a big deal.  And what about children whose special abilities put them outside the realm of those “normal” accomplishments or behaviors?  Do I even need to continue?  It’s time the formula for determining praise-worthy actions undergoes a change.  As a whole, shouldn’t we be more concerned about instilling compassion, empathy, and respect in our children anyways?

But I digress.  

So, Memorial Day just happened.  Having two uncles and a grandfather who’ve served in some capacity, the holiday is special to us.  And it should be.  I won’t pretend I have an inkling of the kind of courage and stamina required of those who’ve honored (or are honoring) our country this way.  Yes, they absolutely deserve to be recognized, applauded, and appreciated.  <Insert standing ovation here>

That day got me thinking though.  About the “bumper sticker” professions.  Like doctors and nurses, military workers, teachers, firefighters, astronauts, executives.  Basically all the jobs you cycled through when deciding on a profession at a young age (Except for Elijah, who is still stuck on being a Ninja Mathematician or Warrior Scientist).  I’m not arguing that people in these positions aren’t worthy of praise.  PLEASE don’t hear that because it is NOT what I’m saying.  The motivation, intelligence, and endurance necessary for their professions is beyond what many of us mere mortals could bear to give.  Thank God for them tirelessly, meticulously doing their jobs.  But as important and praise-worthy as these aforementioned professionals are, honoring ONLY them leaves us with many unsung heroes.  And I’m married to one of them.

Social workers.  In college I used to tease David about social workers’ bad rap, as their portrayal in movies usually involved them ripping children out of their parents’ arms under sketchy circumstances (Recently, I’ve become more enlightened about this heart wrenching duty.  Take a peek at this short film).  And because movies are always 100% accurate (Sarcasm), I would rib David about his profession of choice.  “Why would you want to do that?  It seems like you will constantly be passing judgement on people.”  I, obviously, was a really fun person to date.

Here’s the thing, social work isn’t about judging people.  Not at all.  Honestly, the rest of us can do that just fine without a degree in this field.  What I’ve learned from being married to a very dedicated social worker is this: Social work is about working FOR the marginalized, the judged, the abused, the outcasts.  Social workers (the good ones) enable clients to move beyond the hurdles of their past failures or difficulties by providing resources to encourage forward progress.  They truly care about people bettering themselves.  Sounds like (if I can be so bold) a job Jesus could really get behind, since He basically modeled it in His life here on earth.

Caring about people.  Here’s an example of how that mindset works.  The other week, I was telling David something exciting.  Based on our (very changeable) adoption timeline and the age limits for our daughter, her Ethiopian birth mother could (fingers crossed) be pregnant with her by the end of the year!  These are the things that propel me forward.  But upon sharing the news, his excitement level was nowhere near my exalted level of bliss.  And when I crossed my arms and asked for an explanation, he said, “I keep thinking about how our daughter will end up in an orphanage.  Either because she was orphaned or abandoned.  It makes me sad to think about those circumstances in respect to her birth mom.”  Whoa, I wasn’t expecting that.  Here’s a person who cares, not only for our future daughter, but also for her birth mother.  A woman potentially motivated by a myriad of things we have no clue about.  Desperation, sickness, hope for her child’s future, shame.  We’ll probably never know.  But her situation has not escaped my sweet husband’s gaze.  10 years later, his genuine, heartfelt compassion for others never fails to blow me away.

Another thing.  Listening.  I would say this comprises about 85% of a social worker’s duties.  Listening to people and actually HEARING their concerns about things.  Getting to the heart of the matter, when patients maybe cannot recognize it for themselves.  I never realized how difficult this was until I lost my voice 2 weeks ago.  As an extrovert I LOVE being in the middle of things, telling stories, sharing opinions, and making other people laugh.  But without a voice, I found myself on the sidelines.  Listening.  It was H.A.R.D. to just be still and not interject my thoughts about any given subject matter (In fact, I may have melodramatically referred to it as “my own personal hell”).  But it made me even more aware of how patient and skilled social workers are.  Yes, they *may* figure out solutions before their clients do, but getting people to come to those decisions on their own (after much prodding, informing, and encouragement) is the point.  Social work isn’t doing all the hard labor for others, it is handing over the tools and teaching them to do it themselves.

I’ve told you about David’s job before.  He’s a social worker for people who’ve experienced significant brain injuries.  Yep, that’s a pretty specific field.  These type of injuries run the gamut of severity, but can cause erratic behavior, memory loss, spontaneous outbursts, and poor decision making.  Which is why David cannot abide people riding bikes without wearing helmets (Seriously, don’t mess around with preventable injury.  David’s had patients end up on his floor, their lives forever changed, because they were helmetless upon having a minor bicycling accident).  As you can imagine for his clientele, thanking the social worker isn’t top of their list of things to do before leaving the hospital.  But sometimes the “thank you” is less important than the joy of being involved in people’s lives.  David tells so many funny stories (in general, HIPPA-approved details) about his patients.  The guy who could only say 5 to 7 words understandably (4 of them were swears).  There was the patient who had David relay his garbled pick-up lines to the dental hygienist who was in the middle of cleaning his teeth.  The time David got Bronx approved as a therapy dog, just so he could bring him to his floor and watch a certain patient light up while loving on Bronx.  Only to have that same patient freak out, endanger others, and leave later in the week.  The young father whose recovery time was close to miraculous because of all the love and support he got from his wife and kids.  The patients’ UNO games (and the cheating that occurs in them) are legendary; the Wii golf tournaments epic.  And the heartbreak (inevitable with hospital professions) has been pretty epic too.  Unexpectedly losing a client.  Having to send a confused patient to a different treatment location due to insurance.  Watching family members fight over or completely neglect the person in the facility’s care.  These are the days where no salary, no benefits, could possibly be great enough.

So I know that I am biased, but this man sounds pretty heroic to me.  Championing the rights of others when they cannot do it for themselves (for whatever reason).  Helping them recover (or learn for the first time) the knowledge and ability to function well in society.  Taking the time to really listen to their struggles and concerns along the way.  And sometimes, being okay with playing the role of “the bad guy,” the one responsible for stretching a client in an uncomfortable (but ultimately good) way.  Listen: I’m not claiming that every day David is standing on top of victory mountain, single handedly pulling the brain-injured masses up to strength and recovery.  Most days are spent in phone calls to insurance companies, explaining medical jargon to family members, talking through care plans with doctors and therapists, and driving patients to AA meetings.  The changes don’t happen because of him alone and they don’t happen overnight.  But they DO happen when a community of people who CARE (like David does) work together for the good of their clients.  It is an assembly-line system, requiring the skills of many to benefit this little known population of patients.  But even though this field is immensely specific and mostly anonymous to the world at large, for those who are suffering through brain injury--these knowledgeable, loving professionals are nothing short of miracle workers.

Do you know someone who excels in their field?  I urge you to tell them.  Airline attendants, tax preparers, nutritionists, and custodians need to hear it too.  Just because someone only touches a small or select group of people through their profession, doesn’t make their work any less valuable.  These diligent men and women are ministering and meeting needs that many of us are too uninformed or unequipped to do anything about.  They have the power to change communities unnoticed by our general public.  And no, they may never have their profession celebrated during a national holiday or spotlighted in a CNN article, but they absolutely are heroes…..to someone out there.  

Maybe one day, I'll make a bumper sticker of my own ;).