Are We There Yet?
Growing up, our family would leave the heat and humidity of St. Louis in the pre-dawn hours of Father’s Day weekend and Dad would drive the 11-plus hours to our summer cottage on Walloon Lake, Michigan, where we would spend our summer. The journey began in darkness at 4:00 am as my sisters and I tried our best to sleep as long as we could in order to help pass the time. The car ride was long, and we didn’t stop unless absolutely necessary.
As the miles ticked slowly by, out the window we watched the flatlands of Missouri and Illinois whiz by. The halfway mark was when we skirted around Chicago and into Indiana. Entering Michigan felt like a milestone, and seeing Holland was always exciting, but the scenery didn’t really change that much until we got further north. To keep us entertained, Dad would offer prizes to the sister who spotted a deer along the way. We talked about everything we planned to do that summer “Up North” and the family and friends who would be joining us there. We were so eager to arrive.
It started to “feel” like Michigan, with the pine trees, rolling hills, and sandy soil in about the final four hours of our trip. Exhausted and bored by the drive, we willed ourselves north. As the scenery changed, our impatience grew. It looked so much like our destination, and we felt so close to getting there, we could not wait to get out of the cramped car.
The refrains of “Are we there, yet?” and “How long until we are there?” became much more urgent in the waning hours of the ride. We could almost smell the fresh air. We could almost see the crest of the hill where we turn into the street that leads to our cottage. Almost.
I feel a bit like I did during those long car rides. Stuck in the in-between and wondering how much longer the wait will be – and we are just
beginning to understand what that means to our most vulnerable neighbors. As we make progress in the battle with COVID -19, we are far from where we started, yet not quite where we want to be. The interminably long pandemic with its accompanying heartbreak, restrictions, and loss seems to be receding. There is hope. The promise of safer gatherings, travel, and hugs have me smiling more and making plans.
It seems like the whole earth is feeling hopeful. There are signs of spring all around. The snow is melting, and bright spring blossoms have pushed their way up through the cool soil to delight all our senses. As the days get longer and the temperatures begin to rise, optimism rises too.
Do you feel it? Many Impact100 communities around the globe are making the shift from fully virtual events to a hybrid experience, as we cautiously step from fully restricted to more open. We are starting to see in-person events on our calendar for later in the season. We see the light at the end of the tunnel. That beacon of light shining through the darkness. Almost there.
As eager as we are to get “there” (whatever “there” is to each of us), I wonder how we will be different, better because of what we have experienced. I also reflect on what has remained constant – the beacon of hope that Impact100 chapters have been through it all. We never stopped moving forward. We added nine new Impact100 chapters in 2020 and are working with more than 50 more communities right now whose leaders are eager to launch a new chapter.
Your generosity has not waned during these dark times; it has grown. As each of us gives generously, we become the light for someone else. Each time we give, we are effectively placing another rung on the ladder by which we will climb out of this. Mr. Rogers taught us to overcome our fears in the darkest days by looking for the helpers. As I look at the Impact100 community, I see you, the helpers.
And yet, we still have more to do. As we celebrate our successes and mark our victories, we recognize that we are only just beginning. At Impact100 Global, our focus is on lifting existing Impact100 chapters to their highest potential while helping launch new chapters in communities around the globe.
Although we see progress in resolving the pandemic, this crisis has shone a bright light on systemic inequities that place women and people of color at a clear disadvantage by almost every measure. And the research is showing how much the pandemic has widened the gap for so many – women at work, people of color. My answer to “Are we there yet?” is, not yet. We cannot mistake “almost there” and “better” for reaching our destination. “Almost” and “better” are not enough. Too many of us are still too far from our destination.
However, we have a map, and together—as members of this movement of generosity and change—we know where we want to go. Our collective work toward equity, inclusion, and justice is the vehicle, and it is fueled with the passion of people determined to arrive together.
With thanks,
Wendy