During this time, I reflected upon our connections that have been amplified, and those that have been diminished. The worldwide crisis amplified how much we have in common. And, the impact we have on one another.

Simply wearing a mask gave us something in common. It kept everyone safe, and stopped the spread of this dreadful disease. On the other hand, my connection with others was always based on smiles, laughter, handshakes, and hugs — being physically and emotionally close. The pandemic closed off those avenues of communication as we quarantined, isolated, physically distanced, and covered half of our faces. I had to learn how to connect using only my eyes and my heart.

We had to learn a new way to engage and make a difference. Our old “normal” methods disappeared. The pandemic made common to everyone the concern for food, shelter, and basic life necessities; already compromised people were made more so.

What I held on to during this time of crisis, uncertainty and pain was the resiliency of the human spirit. We all long for a sense of belonging. When this was ripped away, with nowhere to hide, we all had to seek shelter where we could. For many, it was inconvenient. For many, it was not an option. Those on the front line were more vulnerable and exposed. The underserved and disadvantaged had limited options, making them even more vulnerable.

Seeing the disparity in this time of crisis fueled my passion to help and engage others to help all the more. There is an invitation for a renewed spirit of engagement and generosity — that we can heal the hurt of loss and grief, and fill the empty, alone spaces with love and hope. These are not typical times, let’s not be satisfied with “typical.”

Connect and stay connected — your connection will be a powerful reminder of love and hope, especially when life feels hopeless and scary. Let’s remain connected even as our masks come off.

Over the past year and a half, we all retreated inwards. New connections were rare.

But during this time, we met David, a man in his early 60’s experiencing significant cognitive decline, living alone and unable to take care of his basic needs. His caregiver, Sarah, contacted us, as she too is getting older and struggling to take care of David but is deeply committed to his wellbeing.

Sarah is not David’s relative, but is acutely aware that he has no one else in the world to look after him. Her sense of compassion is not an isolated act of kindness — dozens of individuals reached out to MARVA during this period out of concern for neighbors, acquaintances and strangers who needed help. We are inspired by their dedication and initiative.

Recently, we met via Zoom with social workers and other professionals working with Alzheimer’s and dementia patients in East Jerusalem, as part of MARVA’s efforts to reach diverse populations in communities across Israel. Not only did this take place during the pandemic, but also amid spiraling tensions around the time of the war in May. Being part of this group of diverse individuals — Jews, Christians and Muslims — all united by common vision to help elderly residents of East Jerusalem was remarkable and motivates us to seek further connections across Israel.

Since the pandemic began, Zoom has demarcated us within narrow squares. It also gave us the freedom to expand the reach of our activities and influence without leaving home. One of the most inspiring Zoom meetings I experienced was with two feminist activists from the United Arab Emirates.

Shaima contacted me after watching a TED Talk I gave a few years back, when I discussed Nivcharot and what led to its foundation. We then met on Zoom — two Orthodox women from Israel (Project Director Hila Hasan Lefcovitch and myself), together with Shaima and her partner. They were interested in our work, wishing to understand how a feminist organization can operate within a conservative and traditionalist society.

We soon learned how much we have in common. All of us are educated and media savvy feminists, sharing a view of the world via a critical, gender-sensitive perspective. We understand that our own struggles are part of a much larger story, bearing political, social, historical and religious implications. All of us have to face familial and communal perceptions of our place in society, and we all are masters in mediating feminism, religion, tradition and family.

We concluded our virtual meeting teary eyed, and with a new hope for a shared breakthrough.

As a result of the pandemic, what fuels me differently is my perspective on pausing and pivots. As a social entrepreneur, I was always on the go and conditioned with my lists, timeline, and calendars. For as long as I can remember, I have defined success with hyper-productivity, accomplishing every task on my Asana board and/or successfully meeting every grant outcome metric. But the pandemic completely rocked my Type A personality and forced me to reimagine my relationship with work. It forced me to pivot and reimagine alternative benchmarks to success. The benchmarks became less about the quantifiable numbers and lists, but the quality of how we showed up for our community and ourselves. I learned that there is great power in pivots and even greater power in allowing an intentional pause to align the pivot. In practice, we have created avenues for the children, youth, and families we serve to lean into radical joy and rest by bridging resource gaps for mental health, and extending grace whenever possible. I implemented mental health days for my team and we took our first-ever management retreat to build, reflect, strategize and pour into ourselves, as we champion our community. These small actions have given us greater clarity and confidence in service delivery and how we show up as a team. Personally, I have a deeper resolve in the sacredness of reflection and rest — the two coupled together make me a better leader, social entrepreneur, and Good Person.

— Courtney Smith
Founder and CEO, Detroit Phoenix Center