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.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Point of Despair; Points of Hope
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.
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.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
A Shelter For Christmas
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)