It’s no secret that the COVID-19 pandemic has changed a lot about how we live our lives. Over the last year-and-a-half or so, we have all felt the social, economic, physical and emotional toll of this virus. We have been inundated with reports on death-tolls and updates on the state of our economy; we have kept up with the science and practices around how to best combat this deadly and disruptive virus. We have all learned about those experiencing unemployment as a result of this virus, we’ve learned about the strain felt by our medical system; but there’s a story related to this global crisis that I’m not sure many have heard. The story of those in need, whose lifelines and support networks buckled under the weight of the changes brought on by COVID-19; and the collaboration and dedication of those determined to ensure no time is lost in the reconstruction of helping practices as life returns to some semblance of normalcy.

For those living within the margins of society when the COVID-19 pandemic hit — those experiencing homelessness, those living with mental illness, those living with food insecurity, those lacking adequate employment and/or transportation and the working poor — this pandemic marked a dramatic shift in both the ease of, and possibility of access to innumerable helpful resources. Imagine for a moment that you wake up in a tent, your cellphone — if you’re lucky enough to have one — is dead. Your case manager’s office is closed and so is the library in which you can normally access the internet and charge your devices. When you access a phone or a computer, you notice that when you call your provider(s), you are less and less frequently greeted by a human voice; instead, you are instructed by a machine to leave a message for a return call due to the pandemic that is stretching resources and employees in the helping fields. You could wait, right? But there is no certainty that your phone will have a charge when someone returns your call, nor, more alarmingly, is there certainty that your circumstance or need can endure a wait. All local shelters are full, you don’t have a mask, and store shelves are empty.

Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, many of us in the helping fields began working remotely, leaving our offices to work from home or in a space closed off to the public. This distance between providers and community members, while necessary, posed dramatic risks to those in need of services. Whether a person searching for housing, shelter, case management, medication management, or emergency assistance etc., countless individuals found themselves spontaneously left on pause while the helping system they had relied on regrouped and adapted. The landscape they found themselves in was one without very much reassurance, and even less guidance. For those experiencing already hopeless situations and conditions, you can imagine that this new landscape quickly became scary and frustrating.

Amid the frustration and fear of those marginalized individuals who desperately needed assistance during the height of the pandemic, there were still many hopeful, helpful professionals who sprang forth to assist in any way possible. I have had the pleasure of serving the Brunswick community in-person for the duration of the COVID-19 pandemic, and have witnessed something remarkable in our community: a collaboration between community resources unlike anything I have ever seen. Under normal circumstances, helpful networks and resources are fairly easily accessed independently. However, during this pandemic, being connected to resources became more difficult, help became harder to connect with, needs became harder to address quickly, and it became clear that it would take an army of helpers to address the needs of a community in crisis.

Faith-based organizations, crisis interventionists, agencies serving those experiencing homelessness, town governments, housing authorities and food pantries began communicating their experiences and observations with one another in an effort to think outside of the box toward real solutions to connect those in need with relief. Remotely and in-person those in the human services field erected stronger partnerships and got to work. Food deliveries from pantries expanded, emergency shelters were developed in local hotels, faith communities welcomed requests for assistance with open arms, and General Assistance offices stayed readily available to guide and assist their communities toward rent-relief and other resources. In time, communication between organizations and helping bodies lead to an understanding of the scope of need within the community and collaborative answers to those needs.

I’ve heard from struggling community members that they felt alone when the COVID-19 pandemic struck. I’ve been told that helping professionals and services were harder to connect with, and that resources were harder to access. In a landscape that was marred a year ago by an inability to reach those in need, I have seen a flourishing helping network emerge that connects individuals with services and needed supplies to help with housing, food, mental health treatment, case management, and financial support, even in the face of a global pandemic. I can’t speak for everywhere, but I think that I can speak to the experiences of Brunswick residents when I say that although this pandemic took a toll on all of us, we have managed to pull together as service providers in an inspiring way. As mandates and precautions relax, and as we return to a more familiar-looking social landscape, I hope for the continuation of the collaboration that assisted those most-vulnerable among us to weather this pandemic.

Alexander Bessey is the community navigator at The Gathering Place. Giving Voice is a weekly collaboration among four local non-profit service agencies to share information and stories about their work in the community. 

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