Hard to Say Goodbye

Sometimes, I get attached to my clients. Really, really attached. I know this isn't the most professional thing to admit, and I could talk your ear off about the appropriate boundaries between a social worker and her clients. I've read enough articles and written enough papers about the dangers of dual relationships for anybody. I know becoming "over involved" in your clients' lives most likely leads to burnout faster in a field where burnout is already incredibly common. I know all these things.

But I don't think that many of these so-called social work concepts are often realistic expectations for people who work with refugees. I think the complexities of dual relationships misses something that is far more important than maintaining distance. It's community. Part of our job is to help refugees become integrated into the local community, of which we are already a part. How can we completely avoid dual relationships and still successfully help our clients fully become a part of our community then? In many cases, I don't think we can. Besides their family and perhaps, if they are not the first refugees to arrive from their nation, other refugees, we are their first community once they arrive in our towns and cities. They turn to us for help, surely, but I think they also turn to us for acceptance, for the knowledge that someone will be there for them, and in many cases friendship. Many of us at Grace have developed deep friendships with several of the Burmese refugees because they attend church with us every Sunday.

This morning, Isaac, James, and I knocked on the door of one of our beautiful Burmese families at 3:30. You see, M. is moving to upstate New York; her boyfriend E. lives there with his family, and they want to get married. They have planned this move for M. for a long time, and this morning it came to fruition. I watched the tearful farewell of the entire family as M. went to each individual and spoke with them, giving them a special message and then a hug. Isaac and James are currently on their way to the airport with M. and her sister.

I will miss this young woman so much; when I think about her, I smile because of her joy. All of us at our office have at one point said something similar to, "I love talking to M. She is so sweet- she can make a bad day better like that." And it's true. She sings loudly and joyfully on Sundays; she has the biggest smile that lights up her whole face; she possesses a deep and passionate love for her family and for the Lord.

I write all these things about M. not as a client, but as a friend. She is my friend, and I will miss her greatly. But I know that if Isaac and are not blessed enough to see her another day in this life, we will see her in the next. Please continue to pray for M. and her family.