Sometimes, we get reminded why we do this work

One of the trade-offs of my new job is that rather than working directly with survivors, I work within the "system" of our state to develop victim-care programs. It's meaningful and necessary work, but it also removes me from the intimacy of personal care. That's a loss I'm not sure how to even grieve, and I resent it.
Tonight, I had a jarring reminder why this is so crucial work. I shook a hand that was nearly scorched to raw bone and looked into the eyes of a face held together by elastic wrappings. This woman had survived being doused with fuel and set on fire by her husband. Her entire body was nearly destroyed, and her skin had the deep molten whorls of a topographical map. With her were her children, a rambunctious cluster.
Stuff like that brings me up out of the mundane annoyances and feuds and irritations that distract us. Those things are luxuries; this woman is a living reminder of what the front lines of this work are really all about.