We Do This Because We Love People- Letters to the Housed

This year continues to be challenging—fires, personal losses, political upheaval. But today, I want to share something important I've rediscovered about why I do this work.

A Moment of Clarity

In May, I was invited to the Radical Compassion event hosted by the Immaculate Heart Community. The three panelists—Fr. Greg Boyle, Sr. Suzanne Jabro, and Sr. Judy Vaughan—shared their decades of wisdom serving people on the margins.

[I took extensive notes and tried to attribute any quotes correctly, but please forgive me for the inevitable mistakes or paraphrasing caused by either poor penmanship or being moved by something and pausing a moment to take it in.]

As the event was wrapping up, I turned to my neighbor and shared, "I've fallen into this state in which I'm so angry. I'm not finding joy in this right now." She gave me a huge hug and said, "It can be hard working at the margins. Take care of yourself."

The margins—where I have found myself relegated or returning to over and over in my life. Sometimes angry at the circumstances that put me there, but increasingly aware of its importance in my journey.

I used to have a more accepting, sometimes even grateful understanding of why I was called to live this life, but since my friend Wardo's death, anger had overwhelmed my love for this work. The rage at systems that continue to fail, for the hundreds of people who still lose their housing daily in LA County, for the senseless deaths on our streets—it had consumed me.

The Power of Love in Service

But something shifted during that discussion. Fr. Greg Boyle reminded us that "once you know that loving is your home, you're never homesick" and that "you don't go to the margins to make a difference. You go to the margins so that the folks there make you different. It's where the life is, it's where the joy is."

I was reminded of my friend Steve

In 1994, I bought my first house, a little 3BR townhouse near the Minneapolis Institute of Arts—and asked my friend Steve if he wanted to move in. I loved Steve. He was in a halfway house after crashing his life and had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and he still laughed so easily. He was brimming with ideas and plans, and we even co-founded a nonprofit together. He was a great teacher to me.

He told me the only relief he'd ever felt was when he was doing things for others. He cooked dinner for the guys at the halfway house, and after he moved in, we hosted weekly chili potlucks on Sundays which filled the house with people and laughter. As some of you will remember from my earlier writings, Steve outlived his doctor's best estimate by 15 years and died in Peru, where he was building houses with Habitat for Humanity. His life was proof of the power of living in service of others. He turned the trauma of an early death into healing, both for him and for many others.

From Trauma-Informed to Healing-Centered

The research backs this up. Dr. Shawn Ginwright's groundbreaking work on healing-centered engagement shows us a path forward: "A healing-centered approach views trauma not simply as an individual isolated experience, but rather highlights the ways in which trauma and healing are experienced collectively. The term healing-centered engagement expands how we think about responses to trauma and offers more holistic approach to fostering well-being." (Pacesconnection on)

This approach asks a different question that moves beyond "what happened to you" to "what's right with you" and views those exposed to trauma as agents in the creation of their own well-being rather than victims of traumatic events. (Youth Research and Evaluation eXchange)

I miss you, my friend.

The Reality of Compassion Fatigue

What I had been feeling since Wardo's death is known as compassion fatigue. "Between 16% and 85% of health care workers in various fields develop compassion fatigue. In one study, 86% of emergency room nurses met the criteria for compassion fatigue."

For those of us working with unhoused neighbors, "Compassion fatigue can leave you feeling anxious about the world around you—either viewing the world as dangerous or being extra cautious about personal and family safety. It can also leave you feeling depressed."

The work can drain us. As one study noted, "Compassion fatigue arises from the emotional strain of empathetically engaging with people who are experiencing significant trauma, hardship, or distress and the challenge of balancing this with administrative work." (Source: Homeless Link)

I've known about secondary trauma for years. Watching people we love get sicker and sometimes die on the streets can break anyone. We trained for it; I knew what to look for in my employees so we could address it, but when it was inside of me, I was blind. I had fallen into the trap of righteous anger and resentment, and it nearly took me out.

Finding Our Way Back to Love

So I was grateful to be reminded that day of things I had forgotten. We can transform this fatigue through community and connection.

Sr. Judy Vaughan shared how "love flooded my life, and that fueled my ability to love others."

Sr. Suzanne Jabro reminded us that when you go to the margins, you look back on the world differently, and the possibility of transformation is alive there.

The Ubuntu Principle

"Healing-centered engagement is akin to the South African term 'Ubuntu,' meaning that humanness is found through our interdependence, collective engagement, and service to others." This isn't just feel-good philosophy—it's practical wisdom for sustaining ourselves in difficult work.

As one resource explains, "Healing-Centered Engagement (HCE) is an approach to trauma that uses a resource orientation to center repair and resilience rather than pathologizing damage."

What This Means for Our Work

The federal guidelines now recognize this approach: "To end homelessness, we must continuously assess our systems to ensure that we remain faithful to trauma-informed approaches that center individuals' and families' choices in how they engage in housing and services."

The trip back to this knowledge was painful, but it seems now like it was necessary so that I can say with confidence that the path of love has never let me down.

As I sat in that theater, surrounded by people who've given their lives to serving others, I remembered: This work feeds my soul. The anger is real and justified, but it cannot be my fuel. Love must be.

Moving Forward Together

So how do we combat compassion fatigue and rediscover joy? The research and these wise elders point in the same direction:

Build Community: We heal in relationship, not isolation
Practice Self-Care: "Develop compassion for yourself and others—be kind to yourself when things are tough at work or at home; avoid placing any blame on yourself"
Staff wellbeing in homelessness services
Set Boundaries: "Set firm boundaries around work and home life—ensure you have a good work-life balance to avoid burnout"
Connect with Others: Share your struggles with colleagues who understand
Remember Your "Why": We do this work because we love it

A Call to Action

Yes, things look tough. It's been almost 40 years since I've lived through a time as challenging as this. The political climate feels divisive. But I've learned that change happens through community, not despair.

We can rebuild what's being damaged. How? By acting with love, not just awareness:

Volunteer with organizations doing direct service
Support groups like Second Grace LA that connect grassroots efforts
Join community efforts in your neighborhood
Practice radical hospitality in your daily life

Remember This

Sr. Judy's story resonates: "DNA does not make her family, love does"—words from her daughter's tattoo that capture everything.

We are family. We belong to each other. And we do this work not from guilt or obligation, but from love.

Thank you for listening. Please like and subscribe and share the word. Leave your questions or comments below and stay strong and united.

Remember: We do this work because we love it. We can make a difference, together.

Paul Asplund is the founder of Second Grace LA and has worked in direct service to unhoused neighbors for over a decade. Learn more at paulasplund.com.

For more resources and to connect with others building community defense networks, visit SecondGrace.LA. Together, we're stronger than their hate.