The Dignity of Work, The Dignity of Recovery.

A message from FARR CEO & Chief Legal Officer, Michael Schlossman

As September begins, two observances sit side by side: Labor Day and National Recovery Month. One recognizes the dignity of work, the other the dignity of recovery. Together, they remind us that meaningful labor is not only what we do with our hands, but also the ongoing work of heart, mind, and spirit.

For those of us engaged in the mission of recovery housing, this connection is powerful. Every day, certified providers across Florida, including our owners, administrators, and staff, work alongside the residents they serve in the labor of recovery. It is steady, demanding, and deeply meaningful work.

My own recovery journey began nearly fifteen years ago. At the time, I was spiritually bankrupt,

emotionally broken, and unsure how to live without the chaos that addiction had left behind. On December 6, 2010, I reached a turning point. With my head bowed and knees bent, I cried out to God for help, and that prayer of surrender became the beginning of a new life.

I discovered that recovery was never about “fixing” myself. It was about seeking something greater and learning to live one day at a time in service to others. That shift changed everything.

As I approach 59, I’ve come to see recovery as a classroom filled with lessons that apply not only to individuals but also to organizations and communities like ours:

Readiness is personal. The day before I was ready, I wasn’t ready. The same grace we extend to residents must be present in our policies, practices, and expectations.

Healing is relational. Hurt people hurt people, but healed people heal people. Every interaction in a recovery residence is an opportunity to model healing.

Hope is essential. In a world short on hope, recovery residences are beacons. Every safe bed is a message that tomorrow can be different.

Love is the foundation. Beyond rules and routines, love — expressed through accountability, compassion, and consistency — is what creates an environment where recovery takes root.

These lessons were born out of struggle, but they continue to shape how I view the role of recovery housing in our state.

Today, I see recovery not just as a personal victory, but as a calling. My life is no longer simply about survival; it’s about service. Leading FARR, supporting certified recovery residences, and building bridges in our community are not simply professional responsibilities; they are sacred opportunities to change lives.

And for those of you who own or work in a certified recovery residence, you know this truth firsthand. The work you do each day — creating safe environments, upholding standards, offering structure, and extending compassion — is part of something far bigger than paperwork, compliance, or inspections. It’s the labor of restoration. It’s the ministry of presence.

Every bed you maintain, every policy you uphold, every resident you encourage is a seed planted in someone’s future. You are not just housing people; you are building pathways to dignity, healing, and hope. That is what makes this work a calling, not just a career.

National Recovery Month is not about one story alone; it is about all of us. It is about the thousands of men and women who have discovered freedom, joy, and peace after years of pain.

It is about the providers who keep showing up, even when the work is hard, because they know what’s at stake.

So as we celebrate Labor Day and move into September, let’s remember both kinds of labor: the work that builds our communities and the work of recovery that restores our souls.