During the past few weeks, I have been
experiencing something that I have no grid for.
I have wanted to share this ever since it started, but I had been
holding back for a couple of reasons.
First of all, I wasn’t sure how much I should share about this on the
internet. Second of all, I have been
skeptical as to whether or not the readers would be able to wrap their minds
around this. But since M. decided she
wants her story out there, I figure I should take the plunge and just tell it
like it really happened.
In the past few weeks, I have developed
a friendship with a woman who is homeless.
Before this beautiful relationship came
into my life, my understanding of homelessness and homeless people was pretty
limited. I have plenty of junk in my
background, but I have never been in a place where I needed to worry about
having a roof over my head, food to eat, and clothes to wear. I always had enough. I grew up surrounded by people who, for the
most part, always had enough. I knew
that there were people in the world who did not have enough, who were “down on
their luck.” Like most average
middle-class people, I didn’t look at them as being ordinary people in the same
sense as me. I did little things to help
here and there, but I’m sad to say that was it for the longest time.
Then something happened that changed
everything.
Homelessness got a name. M.
(For security purposes I am using an initial, at least for the time
being.) Once homelessness got a name, it
was no longer this abstract condition that affected thousands of people I knew
nothing about. It became a very real
problem that was making life a nightmare for this woman and her two
children. Like many women, M is homeless
as a result of leaving a domestic violence situation. Not only do the three of them not have a
home, but M is trying to navigate her way through a social service system that
is essentially structured to work against the people it’s supposed to serve.
As M’s story unfolded, I began to get
very angry at the church. I reached out
to several church leaders, in my own church as well as collectively. For the most part, I was met with
indifference. For the sake of the other
members of my congregation, I’m glad I lack the upper body strength needed to
flip the tables in the great hall, because this past Sunday I definitely had a
“Jesus flipping the tables in the temple” moment. Both Christian and secular organizations seem
to bend over backwards to address socioeconomic problems overseas. But if you mention homelessness happening in
your own state, people look at you like you have three heads.
At this point, you’re probably
wondering, what does she want me to do with all this? I don’t have a straightforward answer to that
question. You need to search your heart
and ask yourself what would be the best course of action. Maybe you’ll decide to start by educating yourself
on homelessness in your state or nation.
Maybe you’ll decide to volunteer at a homeless shelter so you can
shatter your stereotypes about homeless people.
Maybe you need to talk with other people who have worked with the
homeless in one way or another. Maybe
you need to do more in terms of activism.
Change.org is a great place to start.
I don’t care what you do, but I do want to challenge you to do
something.
If there was just one thing I want
everyone to take away from my interaction with M, it would be this:
Homeless people are people just like
us. They are no better or worse than
people who have a permanent address.
They have likes, dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. They have things that make them laugh and
things that make them cry. They have favorite
movies and foods. They have quirks. They have the same need of companionship and
connection.
They are just like us. So this is a problem that should break our
hearts.
