We decided to locate the social worker's office in the administrative bubble. The decision was guided by our desire to create healthy space between the chaos of resident life and the space and time spent in the social worker's office. Since this decision was made on the heels of significant leadership change, the decision was made with a certain healthy abandon. Very few people in administration had territory to defend or a death grip on the usual hushed tones of paper pushing.

We didn't unleash a storm of noise and distraction, but we did discover the joy of little faces peaking in our office doors. When parents were meeting with the social worker, the children sometimes in tow would eventually sneak out to visit the offices and cubicles nearby. They would inevitably end up at my office.

As Executive Director I had landed an office with a big couch. Wanting to be accessible to staff and create a welcoming space, I had rearranged the space so that the couch faced the front door of my office. The idea was that people would see the couch, walk in, and come down a notch so we could solve the long list of problems we face. To the children at Alegria, the couch was a familiar object in a sea of desks, file cabinets, and computers. One girl remarked, "so this is were you live". To a girl who had recently experienced homelessness and shelter life, living in a space the size of my office made perfect sense.

Because I don't work behind a desk, I quickly swivel around and face the little visitor who has quickly plopped down on the couch and started playing with my magnetic letters (one of those Christmas gifts you bring to your office to get out of the house). We talk, stare, and smile at each other. I answer all of their questions about the pictures, books, and nicnacks around the office. I try to explain to them that I don't live in my office, just work there. They ask me what I am doing, and I try to come up with answers that would make sense to them. Most of the time they walk away thinking (and correctly I might add) that the cooks are more important than me. Eventually they move on to the next person and leave me with the beginning of a smile.

Its these random events that reconnect me with the humanity of our work: of the joy in relationships and shared experiences. Little breaks between big decisions.