Written by guest columnist Bre Hall, Human Resources Business Partner
Listen friends.
I need to tell you about a woman named Samantha Latray. A woman who won the first ever AWARE Direct Support Professional of the Year Award this fall. A woman who I had the absolute pleasure to nominate for the Montana State DSP of the Year Award last month. A woman who won that award and accepted it with grace. I need to tell you about her because her story is about all of us - about what happens when we choose to show up fully for other humans, about what it means to do the noble work of care in a world that often forgets to care at all.
Here's what I know is true: Some people just know. They know that life isn't about the metrics or the money or the accolades. They know that life - the real, messy, beautiful life - happens in the moments when one human being says to another: I see you. I'm here. Let's do this together.
Sam is one of those people who knows.
She works as an Intensive Stabilization Services Treatment Hab Tech here at AWARE in Montana. That's the official title. But titles are just words we use to try to contain things that can't be contained. What Sam really does is this: She shows up. Every day. For over five years, she has shown up for people with mental health and developmental disabilities, helping them live independent lives.
When I called to tell Sam, she'd won AWARE's Direct Support Professional of the Year award, her joy burst through the phone like sunshine. Not the polished, professional joy we're taught to perform, but real, unfiltered, palpable, genuine messy joy. The kind that reminds you that being human is about feeling everything, all the way through. Later, when I got to meet her in person, I watched her with her clients. This is the noble work. This is what love looks like when it puts on work clothes and shows up day after day. Sam doesn't just help people with tasks - she creates space for them to be fully themselves. She laughs with them. She holds boundaries with grace. She believes in possibilities.
Sam demonstrates excellence in person-centeredness, cultivating relationships, and demonstrating leadership. She drives across Montana's vast spaces because someone needs her. She makes each person feel like they matter, because they do. Sam turns routine tasks into moments of connection. She carries hope like a torch, lighting the way for others.
HARD TRUTH: We live in a society that claims to value care but often fails to value caregivers. We say we want to support the vulnerable, but we don't always support those doing the supporting.
BRUTAL TRUTH: The work Sam does is often invisible. It happens in quiet moments, in small victories, in the spaces between official meetings and paperwork. It happens when no one is watching, when no awards are being given, when the only reward is the knowledge that you've helped another human being take one step forward in their journey.
This is what breaks my heart and fills it at the same time: When I got to tell Sam she'd won the Montana State Direct Support Professional of the Year award - given by the Montana Council on Developmental Disabilities and the Department of Public Health and Human Services - her first response wasn't about herself. It was about her clients and the love she has for them and what she does.
Here’s the thing, as I said before, this isn't just a story about Sam. It's a story about all of us. About the choice we make every day to either show up or turn away. About how we handle the sacred responsibility of caring for each other.
When people tell me they've lost faith in humanity, I want to tell them about Sam. About how her colleagues nominated her multiple times for the AWARE award because excellence, when it's real, cannot be ignored. About how she creates joy in spaces where joy isn't always easy to find. About how she proves, every single day, that love is not just a feeling - it's an action.
This is what I know, the most important work happening in the world right now isn't happening in boardrooms or on stages or in the spotlight.
It's happening in the quiet spaces where people like Sam show up every day, armed with nothing but compassion and skill and the unwavering belief that every human being deserves to be seen, supported, and celebrated for exactly who they are.
This is the work: To show up. To care deeply. To do the hard things with great love. To believe in possibilities. To hold space for joy. To keep going.
And Sam? She's doing the work. Every day. Without fanfare. Without seeking recognition. Simply because she knows - in that deep, unshakeable way that some people just know - that this is what we're here for. To take care of each other. To lift each other up. To light the way forward.
And if that's not noble work, I don't know what is.
Thank you, Sam.
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