Someone said something to me recently that really stayed with me.
They told me…
what I’m doing at the shelter
is a lot like rehab.
And the more I sat with it,
the more it settled deep in my chest…
because they’re right.
I see them come in at their worst.
Scared. Shut down. Overstimulated.
Sometimes shaking. Sometimes withdrawn.
Sometimes just… tired.
And I recognize that place.
Because I’ve been there too.
So we slow things down.
We create safety.
We build trust… gently, patiently, over time.
Not forcing.
Not rushing.
Just steady love and consistency.
And little by little…
they soften.
They open.
They start to believe the world might be safe again.
Then one day… the best day…
we don’t keep them.
We set them free
into a new life
with a family who will love them well.
And every time it happens,
it’s bittersweet and beautiful all at once.
Because healing was never meant to cage us.
It was meant to restore us
so we could live fully again.
I’m starting to understand…
this work isn’t random for me.
It’s purpose.
It’s reflection.
It’s recovery in motion.
And I’m so deeply grateful
to be trusted with broken things
while they remember
how to become whole again. 
