Thanks to the work of many, the hopes and dreams of having a shelter are becoming a reality. At 8:30 a.m., Friday, December 12, the management teams of Okaloosa/Walton Homeless Continuum of Care/ Opportunity, Inc. and the Community Development Corporation agreed to purchase the former girls' group home at 305 Lovejoy Road. At 10:00 a.m., an agreement with the sellers was reached, and the contract signed. Closing is set for December 30.
The Community Development Corporation, led by Mike Kent of Progressive Management of America, Inc., provided the purchase structure, adding Opportunity Inc. to the Harbor Place LLC and financing the purchase through that entity using State Housing Initiative Program funds (Sadowski Housing Trust dollars). Opportunity Inc., like the Community Development Corporation and FRESH Start, will have three members on the Harbor Place LLC Board of Directors.
Judy Byrne Riley, French Brown and Nate Smith of the Opportunity, Inc. Board of Directors led the negotiations to purchase the property. Having a commercial realtor, a banker, and a businessmen as our representatives proved to be a shrewd move in that we received the contents and favorable terms as well as our initial bidding price.
There is a lot to be done. We need to get appraisals, property insurance, and set up an operating fund to support shelter activities. We need volunteer rosters, and food donations, and painters. We will need to have the health department and fire marshall inspect the property and recommend necessary modifications.
But we can do this. We have come so much farther than we had dared hope just a few months ago, and we won't let it falter now.
We are making history in Okaloosa County, and it is a blessing for homeless families, individuals, and everyone (including us) who care about them.
And because our cup is running over, let me give a heads up about a primary care clinic being planned by the health department, and set to open in January. Karen Chapman, M.D., and her staff have become crusaders for the need to address the health concerns of those with little to no income and/or insurance. Dr. Chapman will be unveiling her plan in the near future.
Have a joyful holiday season, one and all.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Hanging by a Thread
This past week, the Salvation Army hired 26 bell-ringers, many of whom are among the clients served by the Continuum of Care. The employment of homeless persons is a huge bonus of the Salvation Army program, and those hired are grateful for even short-term income. The $8 an hour will help them survive through Christmas.
However, there were over 300 applicants for these jobs.
In years past, a few homeless people applied for bell-ringer jobs to bridge the gap between other seasonal work, and others took the job as extra income for Christmas gifts, or to simply help out the Salvation Army.
This year, far too many people are desperately looking for subsistence for themselves and their families. Recessions are brutal on the poor, and in this case, there was no relief during the period of economic growth. Wages fell behind inflation, and the working poor had to turn to credit cards to pay for food, medical bills, car repair, and other basic necessities. A job loss or reduction in hours spells almost immediate catastrophe for people with no savings, but a lot of debt.
Over the last few years, I have been pounded with the message that downtown panhandlers are the only public face of the homeless, and very few people outside the Continuum of Care recognize that any other homeless persons exist. I contrast this image with the one created by the people calling the Continuum of Care office, and all the other points of service in our community. Hundreds come to each of us every month, and few, if any, are panhandlers looking for an easy way to make a buck. The people we see are working anywhere and everywhere they can, but jobs that pay a living wage are becoming increasingly rare.
The Continuum of Care is partnering with the Greater Fort Walton Beach Chamber of Commerce to create a more accurate vision of homelessness in the public mind, and to encourage those who would support panhandlers to support service providers instead. The hope is that service providers can ensure that anyone who needs food and shelter from the cold can get it, and that those looking for a way back into the work force and sustainable housing can get the hand up that they need.
The economic storm brewing is already sending out squall lines that are blasting out at our most vulnerable citizens: single parents, children, the elderly and those in late middle age with health problems. We are grateful to the Chamber of Commerce, and all the others who are joining together to form the first line of defense.
Happy Holidays.
However, there were over 300 applicants for these jobs.
In years past, a few homeless people applied for bell-ringer jobs to bridge the gap between other seasonal work, and others took the job as extra income for Christmas gifts, or to simply help out the Salvation Army.
This year, far too many people are desperately looking for subsistence for themselves and their families. Recessions are brutal on the poor, and in this case, there was no relief during the period of economic growth. Wages fell behind inflation, and the working poor had to turn to credit cards to pay for food, medical bills, car repair, and other basic necessities. A job loss or reduction in hours spells almost immediate catastrophe for people with no savings, but a lot of debt.
Over the last few years, I have been pounded with the message that downtown panhandlers are the only public face of the homeless, and very few people outside the Continuum of Care recognize that any other homeless persons exist. I contrast this image with the one created by the people calling the Continuum of Care office, and all the other points of service in our community. Hundreds come to each of us every month, and few, if any, are panhandlers looking for an easy way to make a buck. The people we see are working anywhere and everywhere they can, but jobs that pay a living wage are becoming increasingly rare.
The Continuum of Care is partnering with the Greater Fort Walton Beach Chamber of Commerce to create a more accurate vision of homelessness in the public mind, and to encourage those who would support panhandlers to support service providers instead. The hope is that service providers can ensure that anyone who needs food and shelter from the cold can get it, and that those looking for a way back into the work force and sustainable housing can get the hand up that they need.
The economic storm brewing is already sending out squall lines that are blasting out at our most vulnerable citizens: single parents, children, the elderly and those in late middle age with health problems. We are grateful to the Chamber of Commerce, and all the others who are joining together to form the first line of defense.
Happy Holidays.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
When Homelessness Is Not A Choice
Last week I had the very great pleasure of attending an outstanding conference hosted by Bridgeway Center, Inc. on the topic of co-occurring mental health and substance abuse disorders. The primary speaker was Dr. Kent Mintkoff, an official national expert (as he honestly and humorously described himself) who was incredibly knowledgeable and practical.
The organizers at Bridgeway wanted to add some local tie-ins to Dr. Minkoff’s speech, so I gave a luncheon address on how severe, persistent mental illness and addictions are experienced by those who live on the street. I can sum up my entire speech in one phrase: it is not therapeutic.
Naturally, I didn’t stop there. I tried to highlight various barriers homelessness poses to the mentally ill by giving examples taken from the lives of the homeless who live here in Okaloosa and Walton Counties. Some of the homeless I have met have been inspirational, and their stories profound. At one point, I suggested that perhaps we could do at least as much for these lost people as we do for the lost animals in our community.
It turns out not everyone agrees with that last sentiment. I have been informed that animals are helpless and dependent, and are not homeless by choice the way people are.
Now, I am not against help for animals. Along with my four children, I have raised four horses, two dogs, seven cats, two rabbits, one gerbil, three hamsters, two birds, several tanks of fish, and - the one mistake - an iguana who is now happily living with Mrs. Hagan, the biology teacher at Choctaw. I have donated to SOCKS, the Wildlife Rescue Fund, and PAWS. With my children, I have rescued birds and baby squirrels dislocated by hurricanes, and I can’t count the number of times I have gotten out of my car to help a turtle cross the road.
My point is not that we should stop helping animals, it is to suggest that our priorities are skewed when we can't also set aside equivalent resources to help lost people.
It is certainly true that we share our world with many species, and we are not always good stewards of our environment. But it is not true that most homeless people have adopted this lifestyle as a choice.
Mental illness is a leading cause of homelessness, and it is not a choice. People do not wake up one morning to think, "Gosh, I think I'll be paranoid schizophrenic today and ruin my life and the lives of everyone around me." Most mentally ill homeless people do try to access traditional mental health services, but the mental health centers often do not have the resources to effectively help all those who are also plagued by poverty, lack of shelter, food and public hostility, and who turn to substance abuse to cope with the internal voices they wish to drown, and the despair of their lives.
Homelessness is a terrible way to try to survive. Very few would do it had they any other option.
One final note: the fastest growing homeless population is children. I don't think 3-year-olds are homeless by choice, any more than is a kitten.
We need to be better caretakers for all who share our world, creatures of the forest, the sea, the grasslands, and yes, the streets.
The organizers at Bridgeway wanted to add some local tie-ins to Dr. Minkoff’s speech, so I gave a luncheon address on how severe, persistent mental illness and addictions are experienced by those who live on the street. I can sum up my entire speech in one phrase: it is not therapeutic.
Naturally, I didn’t stop there. I tried to highlight various barriers homelessness poses to the mentally ill by giving examples taken from the lives of the homeless who live here in Okaloosa and Walton Counties. Some of the homeless I have met have been inspirational, and their stories profound. At one point, I suggested that perhaps we could do at least as much for these lost people as we do for the lost animals in our community.
It turns out not everyone agrees with that last sentiment. I have been informed that animals are helpless and dependent, and are not homeless by choice the way people are.
Now, I am not against help for animals. Along with my four children, I have raised four horses, two dogs, seven cats, two rabbits, one gerbil, three hamsters, two birds, several tanks of fish, and - the one mistake - an iguana who is now happily living with Mrs. Hagan, the biology teacher at Choctaw. I have donated to SOCKS, the Wildlife Rescue Fund, and PAWS. With my children, I have rescued birds and baby squirrels dislocated by hurricanes, and I can’t count the number of times I have gotten out of my car to help a turtle cross the road.
My point is not that we should stop helping animals, it is to suggest that our priorities are skewed when we can't also set aside equivalent resources to help lost people.
It is certainly true that we share our world with many species, and we are not always good stewards of our environment. But it is not true that most homeless people have adopted this lifestyle as a choice.
Mental illness is a leading cause of homelessness, and it is not a choice. People do not wake up one morning to think, "Gosh, I think I'll be paranoid schizophrenic today and ruin my life and the lives of everyone around me." Most mentally ill homeless people do try to access traditional mental health services, but the mental health centers often do not have the resources to effectively help all those who are also plagued by poverty, lack of shelter, food and public hostility, and who turn to substance abuse to cope with the internal voices they wish to drown, and the despair of their lives.
Homelessness is a terrible way to try to survive. Very few would do it had they any other option.
One final note: the fastest growing homeless population is children. I don't think 3-year-olds are homeless by choice, any more than is a kitten.
We need to be better caretakers for all who share our world, creatures of the forest, the sea, the grasslands, and yes, the streets.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Pulling Together
The membership meeting for the Okaloosa Walton Homeless Continuum of Care/ Opportunity, Inc. was held on Monday, following the 4th of July weekend. Meetings held on holiday weekends in the middle of summer are not generally well attended, but over 50 people came out to see what needed to be done to assist our homeless and extremely low income neighbors, and what they could do to help.
Working to end homelessness is like tackling an 50,000 piece jigsaw puzzle, and being handed a new piece every day. The end picture is a bit fuzzy, and we are still working on the outlines. But despite the challenges, we are steadily finding clearer focus.
About a month ago, caring individuals, churches and businesses in the Destin/ Fort Walton Beach area worked together to save the life of a child, and move her mother and two brothers into sustainable housing and employment.
A few days ago, Crestview individuals, churches and a business came together to help one of their own: an older man who had lost his job, and who, with his wife, was watching everything they had worked for over a lifetime fall apart. It's coming together again now.
Yesterday, a family in Walton County began going under for the count due to sudden huge increases in their utility bills. They had been on a tight budget for years, and were overwhelmed when power bills leaped from $100 to $500 a month. A church in DeFuniak Springs sent out a crew, which identified the malfunction in the heat pump, and began working with the power company to distribute the excess charges over a period of months. Other help from other sources is being arranged.
Tomorrow, a young woman whose life started falling apart when her best friend was murdered, will get a new start because six strangers heard of her plight and teamed up to pay the fees needed to get her into housing. Another set of strangers is providing basic furnishings. Still another person is helping her find work. While the young woman is located in Fort Walton Beach, assistance is coming from Santa Rosa Beach, Navarre, Niceville and Destin, as well as Fort Walton Beach and Shalimar. Word finds it way quickly into the hearts of those who are willing to take a chance on someone in need.
One of the questions posed Monday concerned the phenomenal growth of the Continuum of Care, as it reaches north and east and counts hundreds of individuals and scores of non-profits, churches and businesses in its ranks. "How do we know how we all fit together?" one very bright and discerning man asked. "When do we see the shape of the end design? How will we know when we have achieved success?"
These are good questions. Most of the time, I have no good answers. I come to the membership meetings sometimes, and see 65 people in Fort Walton Beach; 30 in Crestview; 25 in Destin; and 15 in DeFuniak Springs. Each one of these people represents anywhere from 5-500 people more. Committee meetings can easily attract 30 people.
It seems like yesterday (it practically was) when we were hard pressed to find 10 people to meet over the question of how to find a fourth church for cold nights, so that no church would have to take more than two cold nights a week. Homeless prevention and sustainability issues never even arose. The rate in which we have grown not just in numbers, but in maturity and sophistication while dealing with the issues involved in creating a better society, has blindsided me.
One task I am setting myself is to create a frame to illustrate the scope and depth of what all the various component parts of our group are doing, and how they inter-relate. Hopefully it will answer some of the questions that came up Monday, and will be a good sales piece when explaining Continuum function and philosophy to the general public. But it will just be the window dressing.
The real miracle of the Continuum does not lie in the policies, procedures and charts we create, though all those are important. The miracle lies in the same dynamic that created the story of Jesus and the loaves and fishes.
It was said that Jesus was given a couple of fish and a few loaves of bread, and fed thousands. Somehow, the fish and bread grew as they were handed from one person to the next. As a child, that story amazed me. As the head of the Continuum which receives 20 requests for help for every check that comes in, I now regard the story of the loaves and fishes as our business plan. It's the ordinary magic of a community working together - a community composed of rich and poor, north county and south, and filled with all religions, races and age groups. It's a community fueled by love, and driven by hope. I'm glad it's ours.
Working to end homelessness is like tackling an 50,000 piece jigsaw puzzle, and being handed a new piece every day. The end picture is a bit fuzzy, and we are still working on the outlines. But despite the challenges, we are steadily finding clearer focus.
About a month ago, caring individuals, churches and businesses in the Destin/ Fort Walton Beach area worked together to save the life of a child, and move her mother and two brothers into sustainable housing and employment.
A few days ago, Crestview individuals, churches and a business came together to help one of their own: an older man who had lost his job, and who, with his wife, was watching everything they had worked for over a lifetime fall apart. It's coming together again now.
Yesterday, a family in Walton County began going under for the count due to sudden huge increases in their utility bills. They had been on a tight budget for years, and were overwhelmed when power bills leaped from $100 to $500 a month. A church in DeFuniak Springs sent out a crew, which identified the malfunction in the heat pump, and began working with the power company to distribute the excess charges over a period of months. Other help from other sources is being arranged.
Tomorrow, a young woman whose life started falling apart when her best friend was murdered, will get a new start because six strangers heard of her plight and teamed up to pay the fees needed to get her into housing. Another set of strangers is providing basic furnishings. Still another person is helping her find work. While the young woman is located in Fort Walton Beach, assistance is coming from Santa Rosa Beach, Navarre, Niceville and Destin, as well as Fort Walton Beach and Shalimar. Word finds it way quickly into the hearts of those who are willing to take a chance on someone in need.
One of the questions posed Monday concerned the phenomenal growth of the Continuum of Care, as it reaches north and east and counts hundreds of individuals and scores of non-profits, churches and businesses in its ranks. "How do we know how we all fit together?" one very bright and discerning man asked. "When do we see the shape of the end design? How will we know when we have achieved success?"
These are good questions. Most of the time, I have no good answers. I come to the membership meetings sometimes, and see 65 people in Fort Walton Beach; 30 in Crestview; 25 in Destin; and 15 in DeFuniak Springs. Each one of these people represents anywhere from 5-500 people more. Committee meetings can easily attract 30 people.
It seems like yesterday (it practically was) when we were hard pressed to find 10 people to meet over the question of how to find a fourth church for cold nights, so that no church would have to take more than two cold nights a week. Homeless prevention and sustainability issues never even arose. The rate in which we have grown not just in numbers, but in maturity and sophistication while dealing with the issues involved in creating a better society, has blindsided me.
One task I am setting myself is to create a frame to illustrate the scope and depth of what all the various component parts of our group are doing, and how they inter-relate. Hopefully it will answer some of the questions that came up Monday, and will be a good sales piece when explaining Continuum function and philosophy to the general public. But it will just be the window dressing.
The real miracle of the Continuum does not lie in the policies, procedures and charts we create, though all those are important. The miracle lies in the same dynamic that created the story of Jesus and the loaves and fishes.
It was said that Jesus was given a couple of fish and a few loaves of bread, and fed thousands. Somehow, the fish and bread grew as they were handed from one person to the next. As a child, that story amazed me. As the head of the Continuum which receives 20 requests for help for every check that comes in, I now regard the story of the loaves and fishes as our business plan. It's the ordinary magic of a community working together - a community composed of rich and poor, north county and south, and filled with all religions, races and age groups. It's a community fueled by love, and driven by hope. I'm glad it's ours.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
A Matter of Faith
"The homeless will break your heart."
Those were the first words I heard when announcing my intention to give up a job I had held for 10 years, and work exclusively in the homeless arena.
The friend who uttered those words wasn't talking about the heartbreak of working with families made homeless while trying to care for disabled children, or battered and broken youth coming out of foster care, though of course those cases are a reality both she and I know well.
No, what my friend was saying is that chronically homeless individuals and generationally homeless and/or indigent families learn to survive by codes foreign to those of us from more advantaged backgrounds. Their dealings with social service agencies and churches and government officials are often rooted in deceit and manipulation, and their coping skills are too frequently limited to alcohol and drugs. To work with the homeless is to go out on a limb for them again and again, only to have them cut the branch from under you.
Intellectually, I understand how and why this happens. But emotionally it hurts. Compassion fatigue comes faster and harder with people working with the homeless than in any other social service field.
However, I also work with volunteers whose spirits never flag; whose ability to dig deep for homeless people never reaches a limit.
Lydia Barton is one of those volunteers. For 50 years, she has worked as a psychiatric nurse all over the world: in war zones, in towns on the Texas/Mexican border, with the most poverty stricken peoples imaginable. She has shared her heart, her food, her house and her funds with more people than I will meet in a lifetime. They never stop disappointing her. She never gives up on any of them.
"I know many of the people I help will abuse my generosity," she says. "But that's on their conscience, not mine. Only God can know how much it took to break the spirits of the homeless and leave them in such despair. Only God can know how much it will take to bring them back. All I know is to help wherever I can."
Julian Ferrari is another such volunteer. In a past life, he was a New York City cop. September 2001 left him physically and emotionally shattered. He and his wife came down here, where the climate was kinder to his lungs and they had friends and relatives. For months, he felt unable to think, or feel, or do.
One Sunday morning, for no good reason, he found himself in the Seventh Day Adventist Church, being greeted by the pastor with a smile and a spatula. Here, this Catholic looked around and saw people of all faiths, races and cultures, both working as volunteers, or looking for a meal and hope.
Julian likes to cook. A meal he could provide.
Within a few weeks, he could provide the hope also. Julian has become a one-man reclamation agency for the homeless. He trains the homeless in marketable skills, finds them jobs, mentors them as they learn new work habits, finds them housing. He puts them up in efficiency apartments behind his house while he teaches them to work as auto mechanics and to do paint and body work.
They disappoint him. They work for a month, then go on a bender. They move into a boarding house, and trash it as they leave without paying rent. Julian was a New York cop, he's seen far worse. He shrugs and moves on.
But not all the homeless disappoint. Some restore your faith in God and humanity.
Lydia and Julian live the story of the shepherd rejoicing at finding the one lost lamb, the one who strayed from the herd of a hundred. Both of them have worked with thousands of lambs, and hundreds have repaid them with new lives, new hope, and new faith.
Lydia talks about it often. Her experience has taught her that there are always some among the homeless who will find their way home, and that you never know which ones they are just by looking. You have to help everyone God brings you, and let God reveal who among them will flourish at your touch.
Last night my son and I stayed up until 2 a.m. talking about the transformative power of faith - how it takes your intellect and research into best practices and new models of care, and gives it breath and life. This morning I went to work to deal with broken lives; this afternoon Tom went to run the laundry program for the homeless. Neither one of us has the faith of a Lydia or a Julian, but at least we are putting ourselves in its way.
We have faith that we, too, will find our way home.
Those were the first words I heard when announcing my intention to give up a job I had held for 10 years, and work exclusively in the homeless arena.
The friend who uttered those words wasn't talking about the heartbreak of working with families made homeless while trying to care for disabled children, or battered and broken youth coming out of foster care, though of course those cases are a reality both she and I know well.
No, what my friend was saying is that chronically homeless individuals and generationally homeless and/or indigent families learn to survive by codes foreign to those of us from more advantaged backgrounds. Their dealings with social service agencies and churches and government officials are often rooted in deceit and manipulation, and their coping skills are too frequently limited to alcohol and drugs. To work with the homeless is to go out on a limb for them again and again, only to have them cut the branch from under you.
Intellectually, I understand how and why this happens. But emotionally it hurts. Compassion fatigue comes faster and harder with people working with the homeless than in any other social service field.
However, I also work with volunteers whose spirits never flag; whose ability to dig deep for homeless people never reaches a limit.
Lydia Barton is one of those volunteers. For 50 years, she has worked as a psychiatric nurse all over the world: in war zones, in towns on the Texas/Mexican border, with the most poverty stricken peoples imaginable. She has shared her heart, her food, her house and her funds with more people than I will meet in a lifetime. They never stop disappointing her. She never gives up on any of them.
"I know many of the people I help will abuse my generosity," she says. "But that's on their conscience, not mine. Only God can know how much it took to break the spirits of the homeless and leave them in such despair. Only God can know how much it will take to bring them back. All I know is to help wherever I can."
Julian Ferrari is another such volunteer. In a past life, he was a New York City cop. September 2001 left him physically and emotionally shattered. He and his wife came down here, where the climate was kinder to his lungs and they had friends and relatives. For months, he felt unable to think, or feel, or do.
One Sunday morning, for no good reason, he found himself in the Seventh Day Adventist Church, being greeted by the pastor with a smile and a spatula. Here, this Catholic looked around and saw people of all faiths, races and cultures, both working as volunteers, or looking for a meal and hope.
Julian likes to cook. A meal he could provide.
Within a few weeks, he could provide the hope also. Julian has become a one-man reclamation agency for the homeless. He trains the homeless in marketable skills, finds them jobs, mentors them as they learn new work habits, finds them housing. He puts them up in efficiency apartments behind his house while he teaches them to work as auto mechanics and to do paint and body work.
They disappoint him. They work for a month, then go on a bender. They move into a boarding house, and trash it as they leave without paying rent. Julian was a New York cop, he's seen far worse. He shrugs and moves on.
But not all the homeless disappoint. Some restore your faith in God and humanity.
Lydia and Julian live the story of the shepherd rejoicing at finding the one lost lamb, the one who strayed from the herd of a hundred. Both of them have worked with thousands of lambs, and hundreds have repaid them with new lives, new hope, and new faith.
Lydia talks about it often. Her experience has taught her that there are always some among the homeless who will find their way home, and that you never know which ones they are just by looking. You have to help everyone God brings you, and let God reveal who among them will flourish at your touch.
Last night my son and I stayed up until 2 a.m. talking about the transformative power of faith - how it takes your intellect and research into best practices and new models of care, and gives it breath and life. This morning I went to work to deal with broken lives; this afternoon Tom went to run the laundry program for the homeless. Neither one of us has the faith of a Lydia or a Julian, but at least we are putting ourselves in its way.
We have faith that we, too, will find our way home.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Vulnerable Populations
Last week, I received a call that once again altered my perceptions on homelessness. Like all leaders in the fight against homelessness, I constantly tell civic clubs and government leaders and anyone else I come in contact with that anyone can become homeless.
But in my heart of hearts, I have never thought that people "like me" were in danger. Tuesday changed all that. A friend reminded me of someone we had known years ago, a woman who had been my co-leader in a Girl Scout troop, who had a high-powered job, membership in several civic organizations, a lovely house down the street maintained in perfect order. She was very conscious of her appearance, and she and her children were always beautifully decked out. To say I was shocked when my friend told me that "Mary" has been homeless almost since the last time I saw her 11 years ago would be putting it mildly indeed.
A few days later I saw Mary for myself. She is covered in open sores, dressed in rags, and had pulled out most of her hair. Colleagues told me she was first found cowering in fear in a tree, following an attack by a group of men who found it amusing to terrorize the homeless woman. My colleagues were unable to get her down, so one of them went up with some breakfast, and spent two hours talking to her. Mary has no idea how she came to be homeless, but she remembers she has children. She hasn't seen her children in 10 years, when the youngest was 14.
Although Mary is no longer coherent enough to tell her story, it isn't hard to guess that it is rooted in mental illness, probably exacerbated by substance abuse, used as a form of self-medication. The tie between mental illness and homelessness is a strong one, and is particularly sad because it can almost always be prevented. The fact that isn't prevented is a sad tribute to the strong stigma still attached to mental disease, and the treatment thereof. And despite the consequences of blaming the victim for the disease, including the ability of government and insurance companies to demand 50% co-pays for therapy as opposed to a 20% co-pay for physical disease, we do it anyway.
Of course, homelessness itself carries an extraordinary stigma, and the shame people feel when they find themselves nearly homeless prevents them from receiving timely and effective help. Even people in "nice" neighborhoods can find themselves falling behind on medical bills, and house payments. They attempt to hide their situation, and juggle debt, to the point that homelessness is no longer out of the question.
Christ said, "Judge not, that ye be not judged." Judging others, when we can never know the whole story, is not just a character flaw within us, but can have virtually criminal effects on those who are judged unfairly.
This May we will be launching a campaign, "Homeless: It's Not Just Who You Think." Help us carry the message that indeed, people like us can and do become homeless. We are all vulnerable and in need of help. Perhaps it is time to learn to love one another, before it is too late for another homeless mother, child, or brother.
But in my heart of hearts, I have never thought that people "like me" were in danger. Tuesday changed all that. A friend reminded me of someone we had known years ago, a woman who had been my co-leader in a Girl Scout troop, who had a high-powered job, membership in several civic organizations, a lovely house down the street maintained in perfect order. She was very conscious of her appearance, and she and her children were always beautifully decked out. To say I was shocked when my friend told me that "Mary" has been homeless almost since the last time I saw her 11 years ago would be putting it mildly indeed.
A few days later I saw Mary for myself. She is covered in open sores, dressed in rags, and had pulled out most of her hair. Colleagues told me she was first found cowering in fear in a tree, following an attack by a group of men who found it amusing to terrorize the homeless woman. My colleagues were unable to get her down, so one of them went up with some breakfast, and spent two hours talking to her. Mary has no idea how she came to be homeless, but she remembers she has children. She hasn't seen her children in 10 years, when the youngest was 14.
Although Mary is no longer coherent enough to tell her story, it isn't hard to guess that it is rooted in mental illness, probably exacerbated by substance abuse, used as a form of self-medication. The tie between mental illness and homelessness is a strong one, and is particularly sad because it can almost always be prevented. The fact that isn't prevented is a sad tribute to the strong stigma still attached to mental disease, and the treatment thereof. And despite the consequences of blaming the victim for the disease, including the ability of government and insurance companies to demand 50% co-pays for therapy as opposed to a 20% co-pay for physical disease, we do it anyway.
Of course, homelessness itself carries an extraordinary stigma, and the shame people feel when they find themselves nearly homeless prevents them from receiving timely and effective help. Even people in "nice" neighborhoods can find themselves falling behind on medical bills, and house payments. They attempt to hide their situation, and juggle debt, to the point that homelessness is no longer out of the question.
Christ said, "Judge not, that ye be not judged." Judging others, when we can never know the whole story, is not just a character flaw within us, but can have virtually criminal effects on those who are judged unfairly.
This May we will be launching a campaign, "Homeless: It's Not Just Who You Think." Help us carry the message that indeed, people like us can and do become homeless. We are all vulnerable and in need of help. Perhaps it is time to learn to love one another, before it is too late for another homeless mother, child, or brother.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Rush to Judgment
Of all the things that may be learned from interactive media: letters to the editor, blog sites, talk radio; one that is most striking is the fact that there are huge numbers of people ready and willing to tell everyone else how to live their lives.
Can't sell your house? "There is no reason a house won't sell if owners stop being so greedy." Someone doesn't make a left turn into oncoming traffic quickly enough, or goes too slow? "They should learn how to drive or get off the road." Gas prices are so high that people working for minimum wage can't get to work? "It's the law of supply and demand. Oil companies have to make a profit, so suck it up and get a job close to home."
Basically, the take-home message is that bad things can only happen to people who lead flawed lives.
This simplistic (and mean-spirited) point of view is nowhere as prevelant as it is regarding the homeless, who hear a constant refrain, generally spoken in a tone of disgust: "Get a job! Get off the street! Clean up! Get a shave! Wash your clothes! Lay off the booze! Go away!"
Unfortunately, the very people who are most vehement in their instructions do not find it necessary to explain how the homeless are to carry them out. While most of the homeless work, they do need better-paying, more stable jobs, but just how exactly are they supposed to make this happen? They are very often dirty, but where are they supposed to take a shower, or wash their clothes, or shave? Yes, they should stop drinking, but who will give them the tools to blunt the pain of a marginalized life?
And, of course, homeless persons are not clones of each other. There are men, women and children of varying levels of health, training and education. There are a hundred paths to homelessness, and they can be easy to find. With the looming recession, they will be easier yet.
The constant struggle for those of us working with the homeless is how to balance compassion and pragmatism; faith and skepticism. If we are to help, we need to be clear-sighted as to the capabilities and motivation of those who come to us in pain. But we also need to retain our hope, lest we find ourselves of no use whatsoever.
It is one of the joys of my life that I have found so many mentors in my search to find the right approach in making lives better whenever and wherever I can. The people who surround me have vision and faith that illumines the way for not just the homeless, but our sheltered neighbors.
The light the first few of these women and men lit six years ago with the first cold night program flares more brightly each day. It has found its way to Crestview and Destin, and in homes and churches scattered throughout Walton County.
Individually, our volunteers are strong, capable, and caring. Collectively, they produce miracles. This year, the number of our chronic homeless fell by over 600: from 1100 in 2007 to 582 in 2008. At least 200 have found shelter, homes and purpose through the work of our faith-based and community-based organizations. We work without much in the way of financial resources, without a shelter, and without the support of many of our fellow citizens.
But, we work with love. And that's how we make the difference.
Can't sell your house? "There is no reason a house won't sell if owners stop being so greedy." Someone doesn't make a left turn into oncoming traffic quickly enough, or goes too slow? "They should learn how to drive or get off the road." Gas prices are so high that people working for minimum wage can't get to work? "It's the law of supply and demand. Oil companies have to make a profit, so suck it up and get a job close to home."
Basically, the take-home message is that bad things can only happen to people who lead flawed lives.
This simplistic (and mean-spirited) point of view is nowhere as prevelant as it is regarding the homeless, who hear a constant refrain, generally spoken in a tone of disgust: "Get a job! Get off the street! Clean up! Get a shave! Wash your clothes! Lay off the booze! Go away!"
Unfortunately, the very people who are most vehement in their instructions do not find it necessary to explain how the homeless are to carry them out. While most of the homeless work, they do need better-paying, more stable jobs, but just how exactly are they supposed to make this happen? They are very often dirty, but where are they supposed to take a shower, or wash their clothes, or shave? Yes, they should stop drinking, but who will give them the tools to blunt the pain of a marginalized life?
And, of course, homeless persons are not clones of each other. There are men, women and children of varying levels of health, training and education. There are a hundred paths to homelessness, and they can be easy to find. With the looming recession, they will be easier yet.
The constant struggle for those of us working with the homeless is how to balance compassion and pragmatism; faith and skepticism. If we are to help, we need to be clear-sighted as to the capabilities and motivation of those who come to us in pain. But we also need to retain our hope, lest we find ourselves of no use whatsoever.
It is one of the joys of my life that I have found so many mentors in my search to find the right approach in making lives better whenever and wherever I can. The people who surround me have vision and faith that illumines the way for not just the homeless, but our sheltered neighbors.
The light the first few of these women and men lit six years ago with the first cold night program flares more brightly each day. It has found its way to Crestview and Destin, and in homes and churches scattered throughout Walton County.
Individually, our volunteers are strong, capable, and caring. Collectively, they produce miracles. This year, the number of our chronic homeless fell by over 600: from 1100 in 2007 to 582 in 2008. At least 200 have found shelter, homes and purpose through the work of our faith-based and community-based organizations. We work without much in the way of financial resources, without a shelter, and without the support of many of our fellow citizens.
But, we work with love. And that's how we make the difference.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
A Point in Time
Every family, organization, government has its rituals: the Fourth of July fireworks; the Christmas Eve service; the Pledge of Allegiance opening each City Council meeting. For us at Opportunity, Inc., it's the annual point-in-time census, held during the last week of January.
The purpose of the census is to get an accurate count of the homeless in our two-county region, and to discover a bit about what kinds of people are without shelter. We base our strategic planning on what the survey reveals: Are there more chronically homeless individuals, or families suffering a loss of employment or housing? Are the homeless we have with us young, old, veterans, employed, disabled, working, or literate?
We get a fairly good idea of the extent of homelessness, though we can never capture it all given the vast wooded expanses studded throughout the counties, and the deep reluctance of anyone to tell a stranger that they are homeless.
Still, we pull together a fairly definitive collection of numbers, statistics and maps of homelessness in our area, and that is worth a great deal.
What is worth more, though, is a snapshot in time of how our community's most challenged citizens struggle to survive, and how strong is the will to live. Coming across a homeless encampment can be heart-breaking, when you find a hand-made shack in a desolated area, plastic lounge chair for a bed, and tiny clothes on a clothesline stretched over a sputtering fire. But it can be humbling as well, as you note the incredible ingenuity with which people with few material resources create a facsimile of a home for themselves and sometimes their children.
This year, Keli Cummings, a student at the University of West Florida, led the way in helping us understand the scope of homelessness in our area, beyond the populace that finds its way to the cold night shelters and meal programs. Keli went out Friday, January 25, with a deputy from the Okaloosa County Sheriff's Office, and Saturday, January 26, with a police officer from Crestview (big thanks to our law enforcement officers!).
Keli has a unique quality to recognize what she is seeing. When other team members and law enforcement would walk into an empty space and start to head back to the cars, Keli would note a broken branch and some leaves pressed too hard into the sand. She would track the signs back to an encampment of tents and bedrolls and lounge chairs and the remains of a recent campfire (and sometimes even the people who inhabit these bleak areas). She would watch people as they went into and out of grocery stores and Wal-marts, and know instantly who was homeless and who was not.
Her results rocked me, and I imagine many others. For instance, she and her group found 50 encampments along the beaches and in Destin, most all of which were home to several people. She identified hundreds of homeless persons north of I-10, living in the woods, in cars, and in abandoned buildings. She even documented that there are homeless people in Niceville, something that has long been debatable.
What Keli, and Malva, and Linda, and Donna, and Corey and a host of other awesome individuals learned is that there is no area in our region that is not home to both the unfortunate and the fortunate. The poor are with us, whether we choose to see them or not.
Sometime in the next few weeks, I will pull together all the reports from all over the area, and get our newest round of numbers on the homelessness in our area. The numbers will provide the basis for our strategic planning, grant applications, reports to local, state and federal government, and in our community awareness efforts. But it is the people behind the numbers who tell the real stories: stories of heartbreak, and of hope.
The purpose of the census is to get an accurate count of the homeless in our two-county region, and to discover a bit about what kinds of people are without shelter. We base our strategic planning on what the survey reveals: Are there more chronically homeless individuals, or families suffering a loss of employment or housing? Are the homeless we have with us young, old, veterans, employed, disabled, working, or literate?
We get a fairly good idea of the extent of homelessness, though we can never capture it all given the vast wooded expanses studded throughout the counties, and the deep reluctance of anyone to tell a stranger that they are homeless.
Still, we pull together a fairly definitive collection of numbers, statistics and maps of homelessness in our area, and that is worth a great deal.
What is worth more, though, is a snapshot in time of how our community's most challenged citizens struggle to survive, and how strong is the will to live. Coming across a homeless encampment can be heart-breaking, when you find a hand-made shack in a desolated area, plastic lounge chair for a bed, and tiny clothes on a clothesline stretched over a sputtering fire. But it can be humbling as well, as you note the incredible ingenuity with which people with few material resources create a facsimile of a home for themselves and sometimes their children.
This year, Keli Cummings, a student at the University of West Florida, led the way in helping us understand the scope of homelessness in our area, beyond the populace that finds its way to the cold night shelters and meal programs. Keli went out Friday, January 25, with a deputy from the Okaloosa County Sheriff's Office, and Saturday, January 26, with a police officer from Crestview (big thanks to our law enforcement officers!).
Keli has a unique quality to recognize what she is seeing. When other team members and law enforcement would walk into an empty space and start to head back to the cars, Keli would note a broken branch and some leaves pressed too hard into the sand. She would track the signs back to an encampment of tents and bedrolls and lounge chairs and the remains of a recent campfire (and sometimes even the people who inhabit these bleak areas). She would watch people as they went into and out of grocery stores and Wal-marts, and know instantly who was homeless and who was not.
Her results rocked me, and I imagine many others. For instance, she and her group found 50 encampments along the beaches and in Destin, most all of which were home to several people. She identified hundreds of homeless persons north of I-10, living in the woods, in cars, and in abandoned buildings. She even documented that there are homeless people in Niceville, something that has long been debatable.
What Keli, and Malva, and Linda, and Donna, and Corey and a host of other awesome individuals learned is that there is no area in our region that is not home to both the unfortunate and the fortunate. The poor are with us, whether we choose to see them or not.
Sometime in the next few weeks, I will pull together all the reports from all over the area, and get our newest round of numbers on the homelessness in our area. The numbers will provide the basis for our strategic planning, grant applications, reports to local, state and federal government, and in our community awareness efforts. But it is the people behind the numbers who tell the real stories: stories of heartbreak, and of hope.
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