Rebuilding begins with secure, stable relationships. Our guests live with us and share weekly meals as well as household chores. We support them in meeting their goals, whether that’s getting a driver’s license, earning a GED, paying off debts, opening a checking account and saving money, or getting into residential detox. Slowly, we become community.

There are days I yearn to make a difference at scale, the way my brother does, eliminating malnutrition, hunger, and poverty for thousands. Yet, I know my calling is different. My calling is to work with the two, three or four individuals we can house at one time at Dandelion House, or the 120 to 160 people who come to us for a hot meal on Fridays.

If we think of Hiroshima at all, we rightly think of all who died that day. I’ve been thinking more recently about all who survived. What was it like for my father to attend school with classmates, every single one of whom had lost siblings, parents, or relatives that day? What is the collective trauma of a generation that grew up in a nuclear wasteland?