Rick’s Tale of Transformation — The Healing of Auburn Village
A community can heal itself with compassion and honesty
In Auburn Village, where nature’s paintbrush colors every corner and folks greet each other like old pals, there’s a hidden depth to every hello. You see, beneath the smiles and the “How’re ya now?” folks were lugging around these invisible sacks of hurt. Kinda like carrying rocks in your backpack but never knowing how to empty it.
Take Eleanor, for instance. She used to be the sun in Auburn’s sky; she did. But after her husband passed, it was like someone dimmed her light. She’d smile, sure, but it was like someone was holding a smile-shaped sign in front of her face.
Her words took on a bit of an edge, like a knife that’s seen too many sharpenings. Then, one drizzly afternoon, she’s sifting through old photos, and bam! There’s this pic of her, young, laughing like she’s got the world by the tail. That hit her hard. She cried, not just for her lost hubby but for that laughing gal in the photo she hardly recognized.
Now, Mr. Jacobs, he’s the village shrink. Good guy, but always seemed like he was more in the shadows, you know? Then he sees all this unease bubbling up in Auburn like a pot left too long on the stove. So, he thinks, “Time to stir the pot.” He starts with…
