Sledding, anyone?

We got more than a foot of snow this weekend in Bedford—well across Virginia, it seems. It’s the beautiful kind of snow that began to stick with the first flake. It’s soft and packs together well enough to make a decent snow-person. It’s good and deep and kept people trapped in their homes all weekend. Stuck with me was an almost-two-year old little boy. We did a lot of reading, cookie-baking, soup-stirring, cartoon-watching and playing. We tried to ward off boredom by changing scenery--moving from room to room every so often, but our house is small and we ran out of rooms pretty quickly. We went outside some, but he did not enjoy the snow. He walked on it like it was some kind of poison. He tried to escape back into the house by going through the doggie door. So much for the ‘baby’s first snow’ photo op.

The babysitter called Sunday night to remind me about good strategies for getting in and out of her long, windy, gravel, snow-covered driveway and to tell me to bring extra clothes for Owen on Monday morning—they’d be going sledding down the big hill in her front yard. After getting stuck and unstuck in her driveway I happily (HUGE smile) dropped him off at her house with all the sledding attire a toddler would need. I also told her good luck—that he didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the snow. She was sure that once he saw the other kids having fun in it he’d join in. She’s also big on giving kids choices and let me know about his other option if he did indeed refuse to play: There was a big bucket that he could just stand in and watch while the other kids had fun. It would keep him out of the snow, but in a safe enough place for her to keep an eye on him. I could just imagine pulling into her driveway later today and seeing him standing in a big bucket, thumb in mouth, watching everyone else scream in delight. It’s pitiful, isn’t it? (I also imagined it would be quite funny for some kid to go up behind him and sort of tap him down a hill, turning the safe bucket into a very fun sled.)

I just got back from a conference celebrating the success of work in Virginia that has been called “The Transformation.” (Learn more at www.vafamilyconnections.org.) It’s the name given to efforts to improve the child welfare and mental health systems, focused mainly around the primary value that kids should grow up in families in their own communities. The data was telling us that we weren’t doing a great job living up to this value as we’ve had too many kids put in too many places that don’t look anything like families or communities—all in the name of treatment.

I think lots of folks in the field would say that this transformation work has been good stuff so far—the majority of professionals agree with the reasons for it and with the values it embraces. There is less agreement the further down the strategic planning table you go: we don’t agree on all of its goals and certainly on its specific strategies. There is much grumbling underneath the polite clapping in the fancy hotel ballroom as awards are given to the works’ heroes.

Here’s the thing, though: Enough people are in it—they’re all decked out in their snowsuits, boots on, sleds in hand. Enough of the right people are heading down the hill together that anyone who doesn’t go is kind of like Owen standing at the top of the hill in the grungy bucket—unsure that the risk of stepping out will really be worth the reward of having gone.

I’m one of the folks on a sled heading downhill. I am, as they say, “on board” with the efforts happening statewide. I also recognize the barriers from multiple perspectives and understand the hesitation of many to jump in. This work, like sledding, is a make-the-path-as-you-go kind of work that has us only so prepared when we start it. There are lots of trees and rocks and other folks to watch out for on the way. The cool thing about sledding in groups is that those who go first make a path for the others—a path that ices overnight when left vacant too long, some would say making it more fun. I'm incredibly thankful for the work done by so many before me and hope that my work will make a nice path for another coming soon behind.

Here’s hoping your ride down the path comes at the right time and pace for you and that the rewards will leave you forgetting that old bucket. Happy holidays.