Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

“The Rent is always due...”

During our 3rd Annual Rent Party, our MC asked me what the money was being raised for and I said, esstentially, "...tomorrow, for the youth, for bills, for the rent". A bit puzzled, he looked at me and asked if the rent was due tomorrow and I said, "Rent's always due". As a leader of a nonprofit, this is how I feel.

Every March, I imagine from here out, that lyric / the title of this posting will find its way back into my (and now your) heart. It’s more than a number. It's one of the greatest gifts given to us by Rent (the movie / musical) and it’s a reflection point. A pause. A question.

How do you measure a year?

On March 10th, our Transitional Youth Empowerment Program (TYEP) celebrates one full year of operations—one year of walking alongside young adults who have aged out of the foster care system. One year of late nights, early mornings, difficult conversations, breakthrough moments, and the quiet, steady work of building stability.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.

That’s what one year looks like on paper. But we don’t measure this year in minutes alone. We measure it in first apartment keys handed over with trembling hands. In job interviews practiced at the kitchen table. In budgets drafted, revised, and revised again. In therapy appointments kept. In tears shed when the weight of independence feels overwhelming. In laughter that fills a once-silent room.

We measure it in resilience.

February tends to spotlight love. Hearts, flowers, carefully curated posts about connection. But love—real love—extends far beyond a single day on the calendar. For our young people, love is consistency. Love is structure. Love is accountability. Love is showing up when it would be easier not to. Love is sitting across from a young adult who has every reason not to trust systems or adults—and choosing to earn that trust anyway.

And if we’re honest, love in this work isn’t always easy. It is not always soft. Sometimes it looks like firm boundaries. Sometimes it looks like uncomfortable truths. Sometimes it looks like revisiting the same life skills lesson three times in one week because growth is not linear.

“Measure in love.”

That lyric isn’t poetic for us. It’s operational.

The first year of any program teaches you quickly. We have navigated housing shortages, rising costs, transportation barriers, workforce gaps, and the complex trauma that many of our young adults carry. We have adjusted systems, refined policies, strengthened partnerships, and learned—every single day—how to do better. There were moments of uncertainty. Moments when outcomes felt fragile. Moments when progress moved slower than we hoped. But that’s the reality of serving young adults aging out of foster care. Independence cannot be rushed. Stability cannot be forced. Trust cannot be demanded.

It must be built—minute by minute.

In twelve months, we have seen a young adult step into apartments of their own. We have watched them navigate employment, education, and personal healing with determination that deserves to be honored. We have also grown as an organization. We’ve strengthened our trauma-informed approach. We’ve deepened our understanding of individualized timelines. We’ve learned when to step back and when to lean in. We’ve celebrated small wins that, in this field, are actually monumental victories.

Growth doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it’s simply a young person calling to say, “I handled it.”And that is everything.

Lessons in Every Season

A year contains all four seasons. So does this work. There have been winters—periods that felt heavy and uncertain. There have been springs—moments of renewal and new beginnings. There have been summers—where confidence bloomed. There have been autumns—where letting go became necessary for the next chapter to begin. Each season teaches us something. Our young adults teach us patience. They teach us humor. They teach us honesty. They teach us that independence is not about doing life alone—it’s about knowing you have support while you learn to stand on your own.

They remind us that love is not seasonal.

Measuring This Year

So how do we measure 525,600 minutes?

We measure in:

• Leases signed

• Goals set and achieved

• Boundaries respected

• Skills mastered

• Relationships repaired

• Courage rediscovered

We measure in love—not the kind that fades after February 14th, but the kind that persists when things are challenging. The kind that remains steady whe

n progress is slow. The kind that believes in potential even on the hardest days.

On March 10th, we celebrate one year of the Transitional Youth Empowerment Program. One year of showing up. One year of learning. One year of empowerment.

And if this first year has taught us anything, it’s this:

You don’t measure impact only in numbers. You measure it in transformation. You measure it in trust. You measure it in the quiet, steady presence that says, “You are not alone.”

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.

And we’re just getting started.

Happy Birthday, TYEP!