His tear broke my heart

I try really hard to avoid stepping into any ongoing, in-progress, encounter between a CitySquare staff member and a neighbor. 

Occasionally, I fail.  At times I fail miserably by injecting myself where I shouldn't.

Yesterday, I ended up in the between position completely unintentionally. As I approached my JEEP to leave the Opportunity Center with a partner from Paris, Texas, I found myself in the middle of a dispute.  One of our most competent team members had dealt with a gentleman who brings with him a reputation for anger and temper flairs. 

By the time I got into the mix and realized where I stood, the man seemed calm.  He even told me he understood our basic inability to solve every problem or to respond to every request. 

We have limits.

"I understand what they are saying," he told me.  "I just need to wash my clothes."

What happened next felt like a blow to the head.

As we talked, he repeated, "I just need soap to wash my clothes."

As he spoke, a over-sized tear rolled down his cheek.  Both of us were silenced by that tear. 

We found detergent, but I'll never forget this man's tear, one more reminder of how fundamental my lack of understanding remains after all these years.

I wrote the following essay in June 1997. After you read the story, I'll explain what happened next.

_______________________________

He sat in a chair near our coffee pot. He dozed while waiting his turn to visit with a counselor. His graying hair captured my attention first. When I caught eye of his feet, I stopped.

My introduction roused him from his nap.

I sat down on a table by his chair.

"What happened to your shoes," I asked.

"Someone took them while I was asleep," he answered with a bit of a sheepish grin and a slight downward turn of the head.

"When?" I asked.

"Well, let's see," he paused and rubbed his chin in thought and calculation. "Couple of weeks ago," he reported.

"You've been walking around barefoot for two weeks?" I asked.

"Yes, I expect I have. Look at those feet," he invited, as together we inspected his swollen, weary feet.

Living in a shelter, lost in the city, here was a man basically alone.

"Why?" doesn't matter much, does it?

Yes, he may be battling the consequences of alcoholism. Certainly poverty, hunger and the prospects offered by dead end after dead end contribute to his situation.

But, here was a man old enough to be my father who walked the streets of my city without shoes.

We provided him shoes. I would like to believe we gave him much more as well.

What price do you assign dignity, respect and love? Our work is important.
_______________________________

A few days after this story appeared in our newsletter, I received a note written in an unsteady script that read as follows:

"Larry, I can't do any more at this time--a little to help buy the poor guy some shoes."

Enclosed in the handwritten note was $7 in cash.

I still have the essay, the note and the cash framed and sitting by my desk in my office.

Regular people

It's a mistake lots of "service providers" continue to make.

Treating people like clients just about always leads to ineffective outcomes. Just here I am driving almost all of my professional social work friends over the edge! I know, I know. Boundaries are important, or so I'm told--grist for a future blog!

But, back to my point.

People who are hungry, "poor," homeless, ill, abandoned, strangers--the list goes on and on as we think about the possibilities attached to being human--don't need professionalism or "service" or case management as much as they need to be treated like "regular people."

Story from my world

One of our bright interns related to me her experience of sitting through the entire process a couple went through to get into one of our apartments. There was a case management component of the transaction to insure that they qualified for the funding.

But, it was the leasing experience that really encouraged me. The man and the woman were introduced to the property management staff and taken through the same process as anyone else who came in to lease a place. That included the offer of water, cold drinks and cookies which the pertinent information was being collected.

Understandably, both of these individuals were a bit tense and nervous, not really knowing where the process was going or what it involved.

The fact is, they were treated just like "regular" people.

When they got to their new apartments, they were beside themselves with joy, relief and a sense that things were about to really get "regular" at last.

I love this stuff.

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Tent Cities

During my recent visit to Seattle, Washington, I had the opportunity to tour one of the “tent cities” that works with local churches to provide temporary shelter for the city’s homeless population. I say “temporary” because the tent city campgrounds move every three months to a new church property where the community of tents is reassembled.

The campground I visited was staged in the parking lot of a local Catholic Church. The migrant community had been there for almost three months and were beginning to think about the moving process.

In talking to the residents, I learned several of the fundamentals of why these living arrangements were so attractive to the homeless, even in a city like Seattle that remains cold at night well into the summer months.

The campgrounds are managed by the residents. The homeless who live in the tents establish and enforce the rules of the community. The living arrangement is all about being a helpful and supportive community of peers.

No one is allowed to loiter within 1,000 feet of the perimeter of the encampment, unless at a bus stop or walking through the surrounding neighborhood to a job or an interview.

People can basically come and go as they please like in any other normal housing situation. There are no enforced exit hours early in the morning, nor are there curfews at night.

People have a place to stow their belongings during the day without fear that someone will steal them or throw them in the trash. There are plenty of bathroom facilities.

The level of independent living possible here allows people to gain the “traction” needed to land jobs and save some money for a more permanent housing arrangement.

No one here prefers remaining outside--a common myth held by the non-homeless. What they do seek is the freedom and independence of the environment. No one here wants to be hemmed in by the rules of others who don’t really understand what they are facing. No one wants to be forced to receive religious instruction.

Respect abounds in this setting. Everyone is taken seriously, everyone pitches in and everyone is valued.

I was amazed at the entire process.

I was impressed with the church that extended simple hospitality to those who pitched their tents outside. I found hope in the place as I visited with the residents.

Returning to Dallas, I wondered if such a plan would work here. I have my doubts, and that is a shame. I can think of a dozen churches right off the top of my head that would be great candidates for this sort of shared living arrangement. It seems clear to me that the churches involved here have found a way to “preach the gospel” without using a word!

Frankly, I find that refreshing.