I prize my seamstress, I value my copyist; but my cook, who knows well how to prepare the food to sustain life, and nourish brain, bone, and muscle, fills the most important place among the helpers in my family.

As helpers, we often feel the need to see our impact in tangible, measurable ways. We allow negative language into our head about the "broken system;" we look through a lens of "it doesn't matter, I can't make a difference". These ideas are surely contributing to our burnout.

When every hope is gone, 'when helpers fail and comforts flee,' I find that help arrives somehow, from I know not where. Supplication, worship, prayer are no superstition; they are acts more real than the acts of eating, drinking, sitting or walking. It is no exaggeration to say that they alone are real, all else is unreal.

It is very frightening to feel alone when you are standing against a rich and powerful person and all his attendant helpers.