May 2026

I'll be honest, when I first became the director of Next more than a decade ago, I thought I understood what the job was about. I came from a background in community programming and had a genuine desire to serve seniors.

What I didn't expect was how much I would receive in return -- life lessons I have learned by simply paying attention.

Slow down and mean it: early in my time as director, I made it a habit to walk through the center a few times a day. One afternoon I stopped to check in with a member. He and I had a relationship based on light-hearted teasing and casual banter.

This time he wasn’t in the mood for banter. He confessed his wife was beginning to struggle and he needed help. As he was talking, I briefly looked at my watch, but that was enough. He stopped and asked if I had somewhere I needed to be. My heart sank. That vulnerable conversation stopped because I lost the moment in front of me. He reminded me that presence is a choice, and the people in front of us deserve more than the distracted version of ourselves.

Learning never ends: we have a member who recently joined our pottery open studio, not because she had any talent for it, but because, as she put it, she stopped caring what others think. She comes to Next almost every week, working cheerfully, and badly by her own admission, but she is one of the most contented people I know. She reminded me that joy and mastery are not the same thing.

Grief and joy can live in the same heart: I never shied away from conversations about loss, but I never started them either. I told myself I was being respectful, giving people space. A longtime member changed that for me. She spoke about her late husband often and without hesitation. One day I asked her if it was hard to carry that grief while still showing up at Next. She said missing her husband and trying to enjoy each day are not mutually exclusive concepts, they just take turns.

I stopped being so careful. And she was right, grief doesn't crowd out joy. In fact, I've noticed that the people who speak most freely about their losses are often the same ones who are first to laugh.

Community is something you choose: perhaps the most important thing I've learned is that connection doesn't just happen. I admire the members who show up even when they don't feel like it, who awkwardly introduce themselves to an established group, willing to leave their comfort zone to find a sense of belonging. I think of one member in particular who told me she almost didn't come back after her first visit, and now she's the first person to wave someone new over to her table.

Many members have told me how grateful they are that they have found Next. I understand that feeling now more than I did when I arrived. I came here thinking I had something to offer, and I do, but not nearly as much as they do.

Cris Braun is Executive Director of Birmingham Next