Hi! My name is Alex Sarell. I have served Youth Service Bureau of Saint Joseph County for a year as an AmeriCorps Service Member. It was an honor that I will cherish forever.

If you don't know what AmeriCorps is, let me tell you! It's a year of public service and humanitarian work in local communities working with people who are in the most need. We do similar work to what people in the Peace Corps do, and we are often called the "Domestic Peace Corps". Our job is essential and we are a million strong across the country. We are trained in disaster preparedness and relief, public service and care, health and wellness, and what seems like a million other things. We clock over 300 hours of time in training during our year to learn the best ways to help our cities, our friends, and those that need lifted up the most. 

My year of service with Youth Service Bureau was challenging for a million reasons, and most of them good. Working with at risk and homeless youth, some would think that it could harden you to the cruelties innocents have had to bear. I don't believe it's hardened me, but it's definitely changed my overall texture as a person. It softened me to the idea that there are a million different ways that we are called to help someone, it roughed up my idea of what it sometimes means to be a kid, it smoothed my edges on how to deal with trauma, it formed me in a way that made me even more compassionate, a little more aware of what is real, and a lot more sure that there is still more work to be done. 

On my first day at YSB, my supervisor shipped me off to their 10-bed shelter for homeless and displaced youth. I was run through the statistics - 46% of youth at the shelter identify as LGBTQ, the kids are from 12-18, these kids have been through an abundance of trauma (abuse, neglect, extortion, exploitation, trafficking, abandonment), and so on. I was nervous to meet them. I didn't know what to say. I was told to never tell them "it's going to be okay" because not only was that dismissive to their situation, but it was a promise I could never keep. I was met by a girl who had expressed that she was 15 years old and had just arrived a few days before. We talked back and forth and we learned that we both attended Adams High School, both loved animals, and a few other common things. She broke the conversation with a frantic need to call her dad. The staff at the time suddenly nervous about what would be on the other side of the receiver. After a few calls and no answer from her dad, the room felt like all the air had vanished. She and I learned that her dad was not coming back for her. I was pulled into the office to talk to someone while a staff person helped to soothe her. I learned that she was new, that her dad and she were not getting along, and that the staff at Safe Station were trying to figure out a progressive plan to give her stability. A few weeks later the supervisor emailed me to let me know that the girl and her dad went through family counciling through the shelter and opened up about their differences - the biggest one being the loss of her mother and how they grieved so differently and that drove a wedge in their relationship. She had returned home with her dad the day I got that email. NONE of that could have happened without a skilled team of people with big hearts and razor sharp talent. I knew that she was going to be the one that inspired me to do better. To step up for those who can't stand alone and shouldn't. To find a better way to give people what they need. To never stop talking about what pains us and how to ease that pain.

I'm rappeling because I know that we are all in this together. It's not one person who makes a victory. I'm also rappeling because I believe in my community - the people of St. Joseph County are bold, unwaivering and arrive to help. When they are called to action, they soar. They do all the good they are called to do. They believe in goodness and are willing to share what goodness they have. They know that we can all unite over kindness. This is our chance as a community to once again rise up and do something about the silent but alarming epidemic of youth homelessness.