Sam grabbed my hand and lead me to their back yard. "I want to show you what I learned to do today in P.E.!" As I made it to the back yard, Sam let go of my arm and ran to the center of the yard to do a cartwheel. At her first attempt, she didn't quite make it off the ground. "That one wasn't very good. Let me try again." she said. Almost instinctually I went back to what my mother and many others said to me growing up, "Practice makes perfect, Sam!" She stopped what she was doing, and with the most serious look in her eyes, she said to me, "Practice doesn't make perfect. Practice makes you the best you can be."
By the 5th or so attempt, Sam was able to do a cartwheel.
Going into this job, I thought it was my duty to guide others and help in any way I could. Little did I know, my families would be teaching me about life. As a facilitator, I put a heavy burden on myself to make things perfect: say the right things, do the right things, and expect to somehow pull a magic wand out of my pocket and fix everything. Over the years, I realized this isn't what families wanted. They just wanted you to be there, to be their listening ear, and to do what you say you're going to do. In the simplest form, families just want you to care.
In ways I look up to Sam. Her strength after losing her mother, starting a new chapter on her own, and being able to overcome things I can't even imagine going through. The years of being a Wraparound Facilitator have taught me to focus on the strengths of others as well as my own, and to realize that many times, people truly are doing the best they know how with what life has dealt them. You were born to be real. You were born with imperfections, and you were born with the ability to overcome.