Holding Each Other Through the Shutdown
I keep thinking about what it means to hold each other up when the systems we rely on start to wobble. Vermonters know something about that. We’ve weathered floods, long winters, and loss. We rebuild, we show up, we share what we have. Not because it’s easy — because it’s who we are.
But I want to name what’s often invisible in the headlines: when the government shuts down, young people feel it first.
Families who rely on SNAP or WIC start to worry about groceries. A parent waiting on a paycheck has to decide which bill can go unpaid. Childcare programs, housing supports, and counseling services stall or stretch thin. For a lot of teens, especially those already living close to the edge, home gets tense. The air changes. Parents go quiet. Conversations turn short. Fear takes up space.
In a small apartment or a camper or a shared room, that kind of tension hums. Nobody’s trying to hurt anyone — it’s just that when there’s not enough, everyone feels it. Kids pick up on that energy fast. Some retreat. Some lash out. Some start spending more time anywhere else they can find a little peace.
At Elevate Youth Services, we’ve been seeing the ripples. A young person skipping a meal so their little sister can eat. Someone missing work because their ride fell through. Families trying to piece together rent one week at a time. When the big systems stall, care becomes local. It happens in kitchens, in cars, in hallways, in the quiet ways people look after each other.
Here’s what that kind of care can look like in Washington County:
Mutual aid and small kindnesses. A neighbor leaving groceries on a porch. A restaurant feeding teens without asking questions. A church keeping the lights on late.
Trusted adults showing up. Teachers, mentors, and case managers who keep texting, “You good?”
Spaces that stay open. The Basement Teen Center in Montpelier, the libraries, third spaces that offer warmth, food, and belonging.
Voices that speak up. Parents, youth, and community leaders reminding lawmakers that behind every “shutdown” are real people trying to make it through the week.
We can’t control what happens in Washington, but we can control how we show up for one another here. It doesn’t take much to build a safety net — mostly it takes belonging.
So I’m asking all of us to stretch our circles a little wider. Check in on the young people in your life. Offer a ride, a sandwich, or a quiet space. Support the local places that keep showing up, no matter what.
Even when the system pauses, community doesn’t. We’re still here. We’re still steady. And we still believe in our youth — always.
