Windows of Opportunity

State Parks, Golf, and Homelessness

2011-03-12T02:44:00.000-08:00

Note: These are the personal opinions of Lenore Wilson, and do not represent corporate policy or the views of any staff or Continuum of Care member.

If you have ever talked to legislators about funding homelessness, education, universities, services for the disabled, the Everglades - whatever your major interest - you have probably heard the question: "But if we fund your favorite cause, we will have to cut something else. What do you suggest?"

This is difficult, because there is so much of value being cut. You rather think that anything that stays in the budget has to be even more valuable than education, the Florida Highway Patrol, water resources, vocational training, etc., and you don't want to be the person pointing the finger at it. Generally I end up talking about increasing revenue streams - for instance, closing the loophole that mandates the state charge sales tax on a $10,000 fishing boat, but collect no sales taxes on a million dollar party yacht. I can't say this has ever been productive for me, but it does save me from saying, "I think we should take the money from the university system."

How you answer such a question is totally up to you, but I would like to mention that, in fact, there are some earmarks that could stand some scrutiny. A perennial favorite of cost cutters everywhere is the staggering multi-million dollar recurring subsidy for the World Hall of Golf in Daytona Beach. This year there is a related project that seems to me, at least, to be even more worthy of attention.

A pair of bills filed in Tallahassee, SB 1846 and HB 1239, would require that at least one state park in each of Florida's districts have a top-of-the-line golf course. The measures, filed by Florida Sen. John Thrasher and Florida Rep. Patrick Rooney, would have tax payers foot the bill for the courses designed by Jack Nicklaus. The retired pro golfer would be paid $625,000 for each course. The bill was prompted by conversations with Rick Scott, a friend of Nicklaus, who was moved by Nicklaus' desire to leave a legacy for the state, and to promote tourism.

To put this in context, there are already 33 Jack Nicklaus golf courses in Florida. Also, this is part of a proposal to close 53 state parks, which collectively bring in 20 million tourists per year. Gov. Scott has said this is part of his deficit reduction plan, which might make sense, except that the state parks actually generate more revenue than they cost. The only state park so far named as being slated for closure is John Dickerson, which costs $2.3 million to run, but brings in over $3 million per year, and protects the water resources for the Jupiter area.

I probably don't need to add that the process of converting state parks into golf courses would cost more than the $625,000 per course set to go to Mr. Nicklaus (who is far from broke), but it might be worthy of note that Florida already has more golf courses than any other state (over 1000), few make money, and many are closing. The issues of fertilizer, pesticides, filling in wetlands and creating artificial water traps are not considered environmentally sound.

You may well feel this is an excellent use of state resources, in which case I encourage you to say so to your legislators. I gave the references to the bill numbers so that you can study it further. But if you feel that in a time of shared sacrifice, this money could be used in better ways, I would encourage you to make that opinion known.

Personally, I believe in the state park program, and the role state parks play in maintaining our ecology and guarding our water supplies. And I would really hope we would not have to choose between state parks, homeless funding, schools, universities, vocational training, funds for the developmentally disabled, the Florida Highway Patrol, etc.

The sales tax, already a regressive tax, could be evenly applied so that even the richest of us had to pay for luxury goods like season rentals of sky box seats at athletic events and luxury yachts - it wouldn't even be a tax hike, as the sales tax would remain the same. We can stop subsidizing all our professional sports teams (a base payout of a million dollars per year per team, with many getting more than that). And finally, quashing the idea of destroying a state park system that serves every resident in Florida and substituting it with a golf course system "The Jack Nicklaus Golf Trail," that would charge high fees and serve only a few of the rich.

The Invisible Man

2010-10-06T13:53:00.000-07:00

Last night I was talking to my son, a senior at FSU. He mentioned encountering a homeless man while biking to the store. The man had been a musician at one point, and struck Tom as being kind, gentle and oddly youthful even now. As the two continued to talk, Tom began to pick up symptoms of mental disorder and/or addiction. Toward the end of the conversation the homeless man described hearing voices which could not be suppressed.

Eventually Tom had to leave, pausing to give a few dollars. The man was grateful, but far more so for the conversation, for having been seen. Tom reported his last image was of the man waving, and asking that Tom do well so that he could help “my kind.”

Of all the things homeless persons leave behind - safety, shelter, decent clothing, a chance of a good job, regular meals, possibly sobriety and sanity – the most painful loss is their humanity. The homeless are no longer visible to society, and on those rare occasions when they are noticed, they are viewed with contempt. And we wonder why a few of them get in our face, walk around flying signs where they are clearly not wanted, and in other ways become a nuisance to the upstanding citizens around them.

There is a bravado about men and women who proclaim their love for the homeless lifestyle, and pledge they would live no other way. It is their way of affirming their humanity, insisting that they have choices in their life and are not victims of mental illness, circumstance, and despair. But I have met very few homeless for whom that act is anything but a façade. Given a true choice, they leave homelessness behind very quickly.

This summer uncovered a deep well of homelessness among young families, and theirs is a difficult situation that has rightly gotten a lot of attention, from the public and from service providers. But as winter approaches, it is well to remember those who haven’t had a home in years, and whose hope and opportunities were crushed a lifetime ago by rejection, abandonment, developmental disabilities, mental illness and addiction.

One of these women, abandoned by her spouse, moved me to tears as she described an earlier point in her life, when all her possessions were reduced to a single grocery bag, placed in the back of a stroller which contained her infant daughter. She walked up and down the streets, wondering how she had lost every vestige of normal human contact, how no one she knew or saw cared if she and her daughter had a place to sleep, a meal, or a way to get out of the rain. She eventually lost her child to the foster care system, and soon thereafter lost her last hold on self-respect. But to this day she still hangs on to a thread of hope, that her life will change and she will have a place of her own.

Those women and men who run the cold night shelters and soup kitchens throughout the two counties have a deep empathy and understanding for those for whom life has been difficult and confusing. They dole out not just stew and pillows, but warmth. They place a value on all human life, and learn to know each individual on their own terms. They play cards and checkers, and listen, and affirm the existence of a human soul within everyone who comes for help.

This generosity of spirit makes an enormous difference to many of the homeless, though there are some so damaged and torn over the years that not even the most amazing radiance can penetrate the dark. But in every case, such light is a blessing to those who who live in it and with it, and for those like me who are surrounded by the loveliest people on earth.

Summer of Lost Hopes

2010-09-09T15:22:00.000-07:00

This has been the summer of lost hopes. The recession and loss of jobs in tourism and fishing have left many young families destitute. Older individuals and couples struggling to maintain jobs and housing have been literally dumped into the streets, where they live in cars or tents. On any given day, 28 people look for rooms at Opportunity Place that are not there. Most of these are children.

Responding to a call from Sen. Bill Nelson’s office, the staff at Opportunity, Inc. collected data for a single point in time, not just on people served, but people calling or coming in requesting service. These calls came into the offices in Crestview, DeFuniak Springs, and Opportunity Place in Fort Walton Beach.

On August 30, 65 persons needed emergency shelter. There was room for 34. Sixty-two households were facing loss of utilities. There were funds available to help nine of them. Forty-seven families came with notices of eviction. Again, we had funds to help nine. Thirty-seven families needed food. Food baskets went out to a different set of nine. Thirteen people asked for services we do not provide, such as health care and mortgage assistance. We provided referrals for each of these.

These numbers are not an aberration, nor are they unique to Opportunity, Inc. On that same day, Sharing and Caring in Crestview provided food to 97 families. Tri-County in Fort Walton Beach took applications for rent and utility assistance from another 92 families.

The women and families who come to us by and large will work hard to provide a life for their children if given the opportunity. For those who show up at the right time on the right day, the opportunity is often there. Ninety percent of our shelter residents leave Opportunity Place with a job and secure housing. But most do not get that chance. There is very little room in the inn right now.

Melinda came to Opportunity Place six months pregnant, with a 19-month-old girl. She had no job, no money, and no friends or family. But she had a goal: to make a life for her growing family. And she came at a good time. We had space available.
Through JobsPlus and Okaloosa Walton Child Care Services, she secured child care for her toddler. Through Opportunity Place, she got the contacts for a job. She knew she had three months to save enough money to have her baby and care for her small family for those first precious few weeks after the baby’s birth. She decided she didn’t need a cell phone, or minutes, or sodas, or new shoes. She saved every penny, and at the end of three months, had $2,000 in the bank.

Melinda had her baby boy on August 5. On August 9, they moved into their own home, with the financial security to get them through the next six weeks. Soon, Melinda returns to work, while her children attend safe, secure, quality child care programs.
We often dismiss the homeless as a handful of panhandlers who cause distress to many in the downtown area. These are real people also, with mental health and substance abuse issues that are often virtually incurable. But out of the 2040 homeless people in Okaloosa and Walton Counties, the numbers they represent are but a rounding error.

The tragedies among the homeless concern those who have been dropped out of the economy and cannot find their way back in. Some of them are nearing retirement age, and may never find another job. Others graduated from high school and college and have been unemployed or underemployed ever since. And some of them are babies and toddlers, whose lives are being blighted by disruption and despair.

My job is joyful. Everywhere I go, I meet families who have encountered homelessness, and prevailed. Melinda’s story is one of many tales of triumph over adversity. The churches, non-profits and individuals working with her colleagues need your help to create a few more.

A Season of Hope

2009-12-08T22:14:00.000-08:00

One huge difference between those of us who work with the homeless, and those who do not, is that those who do know how little difference there is between the homeless and ourselves.

Last Monday, a young woman, resident at Opportunity Place for 90 days, came to our stakeholder meeting to give her perspective on what it meant to be homeless and the mother of a one-year-old daughter with almost total hearing loss.

A little background may help. Tarisa is a veteran, who spent 3-1/2 years in the military before getting a medical discharge based on an injury that compromised her knees and feet. She underwent several rounds of surgery, but when we met her, was still dependent on a cane in order to walk.

As Tarisa was in and out of the hospital, she entered into an unfortunate relationship, that ended badly in all respects except for the arrival of a little girl. Between the medical treatment, the lameness, the pregnancy and birth, Tarisa was not able to work. When the relationship finally ended, she was left with nothing but her child.

I have known Tarisa for three months now, and we have talked often. She is articulate, lovely, bright and poised. Although she has only a GED, she could and should have a college degree. Anyone seeing her would think she could be a school teacher, a nurse, or manager of a store. She could be your daughter, your sister, your friend. The description, "homeless," would seem impossible.

And yet, for a little while, Tarisa was walking up and down the streets, pushing her baby in a stroller, with all her possessions reduced to fit into two grocery bags. She had no idea if she and her daughter would eat, where they would sleep, how they would stay out of the rain. Her own words go straight to the heart:

"I didn't just lose my home, my car and my possessions. I lost myself. I was so totally alone. There was not one relative, one friend, one acquaintance, who cared enough about me and my daughter to make sure we were well and safe."

She thought of the bridges burned, the opportunities lost, and fell into despair.

But the one thing we all know is that, just as quickly as hope can turn into despair, despair can turn into hope. Tarisa found a church that knew about Opportunity Place, and brought her and her daughter to us - a soggy, sobbing mess - but whole and well.

Tarisa was asked what she expected when told she was being taken to a homeless shelter, and she quickly answered: "jail." She had seen the movies and read the newspaper articles, and she was expecting a room full of cots, or perhaps just a floor and sleeping bags. When asked what she found, she said, "home."

I have led a privileged life. I attended college, worked for a major metropolitan newspaper and national news magazine, got married, went to law school while my husband went to medical school. I had the luxury of being able to stay home and raise my four children for 18 years. While never rich, I have never been in want for a single second.

But of all the privileges I have had, having the resources and wherewithal to help Tarisa, her daughter, and over a hundred more of her sisters and their children, is the greatest privilege I have known. It is a privilege granted to me by a community of caring and concerned volunteers, ministers, social workers, public servants, donors, and stakeholders of all kinds. The Opportunity Place staff stands in for hundreds of loving people, and get to watch lines of anxiety fade, tears dry, and hope blossom again, even in the most unlikely places.

Tarisa's story has a happy ending. She is working with the VA and DAV to get benefits based on her injury, she has a job, and she and her little girl are getting their own place. Her daughter (who, by the way, is adorable) is getting excellent care through subsidized child care, including a teacher specializing in working with the deaf.

Not every story ends as well as hers, though many do. But whether the women and families who seek the help of any of our service providers find a way home isn't the point. The point is that they were given a path that would lead them there.

Merry Christmas to all those who provide the means through which our homeless neighbors can find safety and self-sufficiency, and to those who use that road to find themselves again.

Safe For Now

2009-12-02T06:08:00.000-08:00

Listening to the storm, hearing the winds whip through the trees, the sound of an occasional limb cracking and falling on the roof or deck, I couldn't help but reflect how much our community owes the churches providing cold night shelter and meals.

Not every member of the community acknowledges this debt, and some are quite vocal in their opposition to even the slightest service to those they feel are inferior to themselves. But I can't believe that, as the cold sets in, and the winds rage past, anyone truly thinks this is a lifestyle freely chosen and followed.

Compassion is easy to feel; hard to act upon. It takes real work to stay up night after night with a room full of often cranky and frightened men and women. Preparing meals for many takes physical effort and stamina. The emotional toll mounts with every time you look in a face and see the mother's son, the lost brother, the missing friend that person once was. It becomes even more difficult when, as happens more and more often lately, you see a small child and a shaking mom, looking for help in a world that has turned very unsafe.

What humbles me is that this physical strength and emotional stability is generally provided by women and men in their 70s and 80s. Our younger people, including me, beg off. We have jobs to attend to in the morning; we have family obligations that often keep us up late at night; we are needed somewhere, anywhere, but where the hardest work is done. And we don't think about who is filling the gaps. It might be a bit hard to live with ourselves if we did.

And yet, the number of churches offering help to our most fragile neighbors continues to grow. Three FWB downtown churches: First Presbyterian, Seventh Day Adventist, and St. Simon's on the Sound, have been at this the longest - going on nine years now. I do hear mention from time to time that they were promised they would only be needed for a year or two, and that it is only the hope that this will come to an end that keeps them going. I don't know who made this promise, or how it was expected to be kept, and I doubt anyone working in these churches sees an end in sight any time soon (I never give up, though!).

And still, leaders like Yvonne Franklin, Mary Hauge, Gloria Battle, Chris Levebvre, Lydia Barton and many others from these churches keep not only opening up each winter, but volunteering at newer churches, and lending their aid and expertise to churches thinking about starting new programs in new locations. And they seem to always radiate good humor and joy.

Each of the other churches that have joined have shown courage, in tackling not just the community at large, but their congregations in specific, not all members of whom are happy about seeing their churches used even as the most temporary of homeless shelters. And still they keep coming: Gregg Chapel AME not only offers cold night service, but meals every Tuesday throughout the year, and Saturdays in the summer, First Baptist, Mary Esther United Methodist, and now First Christian have all looked at the pain experienced by too many in their midst, and said, "if not me, who?" and joined the effort.

Ann Sprague, Cynthia Hall and the Busavages have been inspirational in motivating churches and groups in Crestview, where it gets colder more often, and participating churches see more service than those on the coast. They, and others, have ensured that the homeless in the north end of the county have someplace to get warm and find nourishment, body and soul, every day the temperature turns cold.

The cold night program is so well established now that it seems a permanent solution to the issue of people who have no place to go when the weather turns on us, but it isn't. Not everyone can find space, and heavy rains at 42 degrees are more unpleasant to live through than a dry night where the temperature falls to 40, but we have nothing to offer on those occasions. And unless we can recruit a whole new bunch of strong, caring and stalwart volunteers in their later years, we will face an even greater crisis in the next few years.

So as the rain falls, and the cold winds foreshadow the winter ahead, we say a prayer of thanks that some of our homeless found a safe harbor for the night, and another prayer that all will find a haven on their way to a permanent home, wherever that may be.

Thanks to everyone who does so much. You provide a truly essential service for a government that chooses to turn its back on its citizens in desperate need, and a community whose support is often expressed more in its absence than its expression. You mean much to many, and more than that to me. You are my heroes.

Finding a Way Home

2009-11-02T21:39:00.000-08:00

Hard as it is to imagine, Opportunity Place has only been a part of our community, and my life, for four months. Four decades could rarely produce as much despair, hope, birth, joy, grief, and love as have been found so far in our short sojourn on Lovejoy Road.

Being a temporary shelter, four "generations" have already come through our doors. The first group was a gift. Lydia and I, along with our part-time receptionist Frances, were not the most experienced hands with running a family shelter that one could find. We were still renovating the facility and reading up on policies and procedures when the first emergencies came to our door.

A lovely Pacific Islander, with seven gorgeous grandchildren ages 2-13, was the first to arrive. Hard on her heels was a couple with a newborn, and another family with three children. An elderly woman arrived next. In the blink of an eye, we had 19persons and 15 beds. We got busy, and we have stayed that way.

No one in this first group had ever experienced homelessness before. They were stunned, heart-broken, terrified, and incredibly grateful for this shelter that had suddenly opened to help lead them out of the wilderness. They came, slept for a day, then woke up renewed and determined to make the best of this unexpected blessing. We all learned about group living together, and explored all the avenues for job searches, family reconciliation, affordable housing together.

As the original group moved out, a second group began moving in. We had couples who had never gone without work, and were willing to do anything to get back on their feet while they looked for careers. They cleaned condos, took day labor jobs, joined road crews, and pounded the pavements looking for employment. We had suddenly single moms with their children, who found living on one income to be tenuous at best. They stayed with us, arranged for child care, kept their jobs, saved their income, and found new housing that could be sustained on their salary. This is the group that helped us finish the renovations we began earlier. Any odd hour of the day, you could find residents painting walls, laying tile, installing doors, fitting plumbing fixtures.

Our third and fourth groups have been buffeted by economic storms for longer. They are mostly either very young, with inadequate education and too few skills to be competitive in the current work environment, or older, with outdated skills and too many aches and pains. They struggle against greater odds, with fewer expectations of success. These are the ones sitting for their GEDs, taking basic vocational training, signing up for vocational rehabilitation. CC Fearson joined the staff at this juncture, which was surely an act of providence. CC can find resources and opportunities for anyone who wants them, and he instills confidence in even the most discouraged.

As disparate as each of these groups has been, however, they have all been united in hope. They know things are going to get better, that life has something good to offer even when the outlook seems bleakest. They rejoice in each others' successes, and grieve at each others' loss. We celebrate each week, because we have learned that each moment of happiness must be savored, and shared.

In these past four months, we have watched babies learn to smile, to sit up, to walk and to say their first words. We have held birthday parties for one, two and twenty-five year olds. Children have headed off for their first day of kindergarten, while brothers and sisters have ventured off to their first day of middle school or high school. Parents have found jobs, and lost them, and found new ones. We have had trips to the emergency room, and trips to the beach.

Saturday we had a wedding, and it became the occasion for all the joys, hopes and dreams for everyone living at the shelter. The women transformed the shelter into the perfect wedding backdrop. Volunteers and shelter friends supplied the wedding license, the dress, the food, the flowers. A resident revealed an astonishing voice as she provided the vocals. A member of our Board of Directors, who is a pastor, officiated. I have attended weddings planned for a year that were not as successful as this one, which came together in a week.

During the ceremony, I wondered for a moment what this couple would tell their children about their wedding. It is human nature to try to blot out our traumas so that we can move on, and being homeless is certainly traumatic. But in this case, trauma was converted to peace, loss into gain. The husband has found steady work that he enjoys, the wife is discovering the joys of raising a small child in a stable environment. They have already achieved much, and they will achieve more.

Each night I leave Opportunity Place, and drive toward a home I will never again take for granted. I am thankful for all the staff, the volunteers, and the residents who have shown resilience, compassion, and good humor. We are all of us human, restless, seeking, looking for a way home. With hope, faith, and love, we shall all find a safe, secure place of refuge and comfort at day's end.

Standing Up

2009-08-10T20:39:00.000-07:00

For those of us lucky enough to frequent Opportunity Place, this month has been revitalizing, renewing, and invigorating. We have met families of all ages and composition, each of whom shares a strength of purpose and a hope that belies the heartbreak that brought them there.

I've talked a lot about the families and the children. Without doubt, the sounds of children playing in the twilit night, laughing, tossing frisbees, batting beachballs, is particularly poignant here. But there are other stories as well, both moving and incredibly brave.

On October 16, Opportunity, Inc. will be among the organizations sponsoring the Stand Down, an event held annually to prepare homeless veterans for another hard winter. Services offered include medical and dental care, help in getting IDs, veterans' benefits, winter gear, showers, a hot meal, and an optional misdemeanor resolution court. It's a good day, and one in which homeless vets can feel support and gratitude from the public. It's a stand out day, because homeless vets don't always feel the love.

Most days of the year, the general public lumps the homeless veteran in with all the other chronic homeless on the streets. They see the mental illness and the substance abuse, and they judge.

But just as the public at large cannot or will not see the homeless families and children I work with every day, they also miss the diversity and dedication amongst the homeless vets as well.

There is a couple living at Opportunity Place, both in their mid-40s. He is an Army veteran of Desert Storm. She was a Marine.

Eighteen years ago, John flew into battle with nine of his comrades. He was the only one to fly back, carrying a bullet in his lungs. John mourns his buddies with every breath he takes. He spent today, the anniversary of this terrible moment, completing the rituals he carries out each year. He calls every family that lost a son that day, to let them know their child still lives in at least one heart. Most families are grateful. One mother screams at him every year, saying that he should have died, if he could not save her son. He says, "Yes, ma'am, I agree," and gently hangs up the phone.

He sends flowers to every grave, a true sacrifice because it means money that could go to food and shelter will go to long-distance floral arrangements instead. But honoring the fallen is more important than caring for his body. Finally, when all is done, he makes one last floral arrangement, and sets it adrift in the Choctaw Bay, and says his prayers.

Tomorrow he enters into radiation therapy. Now his battle is with a virulent cancer, and it is not a battle he is predicted to win. But he is throwing his all into this fight, because he has an amazing reason to live: his wife Jennifer.

Jennifer is a beautiful woman, but no one who meets her would ever doubt her Marine credentials. She, too, struggles with her health. Although fit and strong, she has genetic disease that has already led to two heart attacks, and keeps her in pulmonary distress. She fights through it, because John needs her.

This is not a couple who is afraid of work. The road that led them to homelessness was not of their making, or at least not much of it was. They are not bitter or angry, but they aren't passive either. They clean condos, do day labor, pick up jobs as furniture movers, and when they aren't working for pay, they are working for the shelter: painting, cleaning, installing doors, fixing anything that breaks. They worry about the shelter finances as much as their own, and are constantly looking for ways to save money. John purchased a collapsible clothesline so that we could dry the constant stream of sheets and towels on a clothesline rather than use costly electricity in the dryer. Jennifer installed lock boxes on the thermostats and passed out fans so that we could keep the thermostat set at levels uncomfortable for her due to her asthma. And I never see them without a smile, at least, not now.

When they first came to Opportunity Place, smiles were on the rare side. John had his tumor removed that same day, and came in sick from the procedure and from the prognosis. He looked much like a man who felt that if he was going to die anyway, he might as well slit his wrists now and get it over with. Jennifer was grim with worry and fear.

There is nothing really that has changed in their lives. They still live on odd jobs, paying for their food and rent as best they can through invaluable service to the facility and the residents. John and Jennifer remain very ill. But they have a huge support network now, and people who care deeply about what happens, and that seems to be enough. They work as though they were healthy 20-year-olds, and they face their disease with the courage you would expect from our military war vets.

On October 16, at First Presbyterian Church in Fort Walton Beach, we will be meeting a lot of Johns and Jennifers, each with their own stories of heroism and terror, despair and strength. If you wish, please come down and listen. Our vets will be honored with a few moments of earned respect, and we will be richer for having given it.

Point of Despair; Points of Hope

2009-03-25T21:39:00.000-07:00

At the end of each January, a dedicated and talented team of volunteers works together to get an accurate sense of who is homeless in Okaloosa and Walton Counties. This year they found kids, lots and lots of kids. They crowd my dreams.

The point-in-time survey starts with service providers, who use census count tools rather than sign-in sheets for the specified time. The census tools allow us to check for non-duplication. We then download the data in our databanks at the office and through HMIS,and check those to see how many clients are still actively homeless. We request surveys from community stakeholders accessing different demographic groups, ones that those of us at Opportunity, Inc. are unlikely to come across. One such source is the school district; another is the list of people being discharged from jail to homelessness. Finally, on the last weekend of January, we head outdoors and count the people who do not come to our door or call for help.

Generally, we go with law enforcement for these runs, but there are times when having a law enforcement officer may impact the count we get. This year in Destin an extremely pleasant and capable young man took me to all the homeless haunts, every one of which was deserted. That evening I came back and skulked in my car as I counted them going into the abandoned buildings on 98, the fishing cottages without water or electricity, and the woods, counting one by one, putting down whatever I could detect - male, female, approximatey age and race. These all looked like chronically homeless to me.

At the end of the count, this year, it was the kids that shot up in numbers. Most of these were members of briefly homeless families, who then became perilously housed. Such families call us, or we find them, the day they become homeless, or a few days later. Becoming homelessness is devastating, and families find themselves doing things they never believed they would. Mom moves with one kid over to her mom's. Dad lives with his brother. The two other kids go live with an aunt. At any moment, the situation can crack apart, and the cycle start again.

Meanwhile, a family is broken, and who only knows when or if it comes together again. What has often been a strong and supportive family group can be crushed under the stress and strain. In the worst case scenarios,the kids go to live in foster care, and the parents live separately on the street.

But, there are always those families that somehow manage to thrive when the hits start raining down. They are the ones who take the writing on the wall seriously - which is often a notice of eviction placed on the wall itself. They cling to the job no matter how few the hours have become, or they find a part-time job making beds, but they keep something together. They start calling for resources, and, since they still have some form of employment, they may be lucky enough to get a place at FRESH Start, or Catholic Charities when they have funds for rent, or Lydia on a day when her network is buzzing with hope and help.

People ask us for success stories. We are immersed in them. We have provided options to domestic violence victims who can finally leave their abusers, now that freedom from abuse doesn't equate to homelessness. A formerly homeless mother of two has an excellent position running a food services program for a local not-for-profit, and is fully self-sufficient. A young man, who once worked construction in the morning and fast food in the afternoon, now works as a cook in a "real restaurant" and is proudly awaiting his parents' visit. The only thing we did was give him a place to take a shower between jobs, and a lot of encouraging words. From there, it was all him, but no one can be more grateful.

One of the single dads we work with is a constant favorite, a bedtime story of happily ever after made better because it is true. A young man, broken by the foster care system he survived, became an alcoholic, a drug user, and a father of six children. His wife got arrested for the drugs they both did, and Hurricane Ivan wiped out his home and job. But instead of despair, hope kicked in, and John came to us. That was two years ago. Today his house is one of the cleanest in Fort Walton Beach. The children are happy, loving, clean and beautifully behaved. John is a success at a well-paying job, and the kids are flourishing in school. They will be moving into their very own four-bedroom house over the summer.

Still, when it comes to the end of the day, you remember the staggering number of children who are homeless in our area (which coincidentally is the exact same ratio as that mentioned by President Obama at his press conference - one in every 50) and you wonder how this can happen. So many kids, robbed of their trust in the world, their hope, their future.

Go to the point-in-time survey on the http://www.okaloosawaltonhomeless.org, and look at the numbers, and focus on those kids - or the veterans - or whatever group you care most about.

It will cause you to feel the first tentacles of despair. Run right away - come help us, and let us help you light the candles of hope. For the kids.

A Shelter For Christmas

2008-12-14T22:33:00.000-08:00

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.

Hanging by a Thread

2008-11-15T00:47:00.000-08:00

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.

When Homelessness Is Not A Choice

2008-11-02T22:04:00.000-08:00

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.

Pulling Together

2008-07-09T19:20:00.000-07:00

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.

A Matter of Faith

2008-05-08T18:53:00.000-07:00

"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.

Vulnerable Populations

2008-03-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

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.

Rush to Judgment

2008-03-16T17:55:00.000-07:00

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.

A Point in Time

2008-01-31T10:52:00.000-08:00

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.

Marching Home

2007-12-02T02:33:00.000-08:00

A recent edition of ABC's Good Morning Show focused on a study indicating that as many as 60% of military men and women are coming home with more than the usual duffel bag full of uniforms, soap and medals. They are bringing home memories of horror, and the drug addictions that they use to blot it out.

These are the future homeless of America.

Already, one in four homeless adults is a veteran of war. By contrast, the percentage of veterans in the general population is only 11%. Last January, the Okaloosa Walton Homeless Continuum of Care/ Opportunity, Inc. undertook a survey of homeless people in our area, and counted 327 veterans, or 22% of our adult homeless population. This January, we expect to find more, in keeping with who we are serving in our meal and cold night shelter programs.

Our veterans are not fighting substance abuse and homelessness because they lack strength and discipline. They have that in abundance, as they proved every day they were overseas. In almost all cases, they did a terrific job for their country.

But while they were doing this terrific work, many of them were experiencing severe trauma routinely. Every time a bomb went off, or a sniper shot whistled down the street, they suffered overwhelming terror. Often they lost the ability to differentiate between friend and foe, and began regarding everyone around them as the possible agent of their death.

Each time a soldier tensed in fear and anticipation, he or she was manufacturing adrenalin for survival. Adrenalin is a terrific bodily defense, in that in heightens awareness, increases reaction time, and provides extra strength and energy for what needs to be done. It is also the TNT of human hormones, designed to be used very rarely. The side effects of large doses of adrenalin are so toxic that adrenalin would be banned by the FDA if it were the product of a commercial lab. And our soldiers' brains are bathed in this stuff over and over again.

The result is that the brains of a significant number of those soldiers become permanently altered. The clinical term is "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," and the symptoms are frightening. Flashbacks take the soldier back to the worst moments, over and over. Nightmares keep him or her awake. Soldiers startle wildly and easily. They suffer from depression, anxiety, and a host of other destroyers of mental health.

If this wasn't bad enough, the Veterans Administration has just announced results of a study measuring the outcomes of the most common PTSD treatment, and discovered that none of them are effective.

Alcohol and illicit substances don't cure PTSD either, but they can block out the pain for a while. They can dull you to the triggers that might set off flashbacks, or quiet the screams you hear in nightmares.

Of course, alcohol abuse and heavy drug use bring a lot more than transitory bliss. They bring an inability to make personal connections, keep a job, a spouse, or a house. Eventually, they can bring life on the streets, and total despair.

This is not news to the Veterans Administration, which is set to open a local clinic in March, staffed with six social workers to address mental health and substance abuse issues.

This is a wonderful beginning, but if we are to support our troops, we need to do more. We need veterans store front clinics, where veterans can get drop in help or on-going therapy, referral to community resources, PTSD support groups, and other services.

And we need a shelter, where veterans can have access to hygiene, meals, transportation, job training and support while they work through mental health and substance abuse issues. All too often we use our jail as a shelter, which is ineffective, costly, and creates barriers to employment and assistance.

It's a great thing to wave our troops good-bye, and send them letters and cookies from home, supporting them while they are in the field. Supporting the troops when they come home, often damaged in ways we cannot begin to imagine, is much harder. Still, we owe it to some of the finest men and women of their generation.

Commemorate Pearl Harbor Day (Dec. 7) by attending the Opportunity, Inc. auction at the Breakers on Okaloosa Island at 6 p.m. Proceeds will be used to help veterans, families, and others needing assistance to get off the streets and back into life.

Finding the Opportunities for Success

2007-09-12T19:17:00.000-07:00

Working with unsheltered men, women and children provides many opportunities for despair. Very few people become homeless for a single, easily correctable reason. Homelessness is usually the result of a chain of multiple events, some of which could have been averted, and some not.

For instance, I once worked with a teenage girl who had been physically abused by her father since early childhood, and was desperate for a way out of her home. She was of about average intelligence, but years of abuse had robbed her of focus, concentration and concern about her education. When an older man offered to let her have the spare bedroom in his apartment, she leaped at the chance.

It turned out that she had moved in with her father's clone. Within a month, she was pregnant, and within three months she had dropped out of school. By the time she was 19, she was a mother of two small children. She had no parental support, no high school degree, no job experience, and no marketable skills. Her options were limited to submitting to physical abuse, or living on the streets with an infant and toddler. She chose homelessness when her partner began abusing the children.

If there was ever a happy ending to that story, I don't know it. I tried every possible resource I knew, and came up empty. I was able to cobble together a few nights at a cheap hotel, courtesy of a church, but couldn't make it sustainable. I couldn't find emergency child care, or a job, or affordable housing, or funds for deposits. One day I went to the hotel, and she wasn't there.

That was my first experience with a homeless family, but it wasn't my last. Each family comes with a host of problems: mental illness, sexual abuse, lack of education, children born to children, generational poverty, medical needs (lots of childhood asthma). It's easy to start thinking that there is no hope for anyone.

Except, that there is.

I was reminded of this last winter, when COPE Center in Walton County took in a couple who had been homeless for over a year. COPE was receiving funds through the Okaloosa Walton Homeless Continuum of Care/ Opportunity, Inc., which we in turn had received through the state. Since I was monitoring expenditures, I was well aware of all the money being poured into aid for this couple. There were motel bills, restaurant vouchers, prescription medication, doctor's visits. Pretty soon the 7th Day Adventist Church and the Mental Health Association of Okaloosa and Walton Counties were all pitching in.

I did not approve. I kept saying, "What are we achieving? When this money finally disappears, this couple is going to be back on the streets." Charity Parker, who assisted Carolyn Hammond in working with this couple at COPE Center, told me to share her faith. This couple was going to make it.

On the day COPE discharged this couple from their oversight, the husband got his trucker's license and a job driving a rig. He and his wife hopped in the cab of the truck, and drove off. Today, the two of them are doing very well. His wife is well on her way to a trucker's license, and they have driven 18-wheelers all over the country. They drop off postcards every so often to let us know where they are, and what they are doing. Sometimes they send envelopes, with money sent to the church so that other homeless people can get a hand up.

There is enormous joy in working with the homeless, because you never know where a miracle is waiting to happen. Over the years I have seen children reunited with parents, fathers reunited with sons. I have watched as individuals have gotten sober and families have established homes. Some of our most prominent citizens have been homeless at one time in their lives, and some of them even consider themselves spiritually richer for the experience.

This blog will be dedicated to the miracles of healing, both for the homeless, and for the volunteers who work with them. Sometimes I will be exploring challenges for which solutions are still waiting to be discovered; sometimes I will be relating successful approaches other towns have used to help homeless people transition to self-sufficiency. But no matter what, I will be sharing the faith of all those who work with the least of these, our brethren - that everyone deserves an opportunity to make a better life.