This January has felt heavy in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for. Watching current events unfold, I’ve found myself heartbroken by how divided we are, especially when it comes to values. It’s been painful to see people I love and respect hold such different outlooks on issues that feel deeply human to me. I work in housing, but at the heart of my work is people, and it’s been hard to reconcile how differently we can view dignity, safety, and belonging.
Right now, many of our neighbors are living with real fear. Not because they did something wrong, but because immigration enforcement is happening in ways that raise serious human rights concerns. Regardless of where someone was born or their immigration status, human dignity, due process, and safety matter. Strong communities don’t grow from intimidation or silence. They grow from accountability, transparency, and policies that allow families and neighborhoods to feel stable and safe calling a place home.
At the same time, this month also reminded me how essential connection is, especially when the world feels unsettled. I had the privilege of attending both an office retreat and a mastermind retreat in Seabrook. Being in community with colleagues who are thoughtful, generous, and deeply committed to doing this work well was an incredibly grounding way to start the year. It reminded me that collaboration and shared values still exist, even when the broader conversation feels fractured.
I also just returned from a truly restorative cruise with my husband and cousins to the Dominican Republic, Grand Turk, and the Bahamas. Stepping away from the responsibilities of work and everyday life gave me space to breathe, laugh, and reconnect in a way I didn’t realize I needed so badly. I’m incredibly grateful to David Pope for taking such good care of my clients while I was away, and to my mom for holding down the fort at home with the kids. Knowing everything and everyone was cared for allowed me to be fully present.
As we move deeper into this year, I’m trying to hold all of it at once. The grief and concern. The gratitude and connection. The discomfort of hard conversations and the hope that comes from showing up anyway. I don’t have all the answers, but I know this: our communities are strongest when everyone feels safe calling a place home, and I’m committed to continuing this work with empathy, care, and courage.
