Listen to this insightful interview with Metro Dallas Homeless Alliance President and CEO, Cindy Crain.
Showing posts with label homelessness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homelessness. Show all posts
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Understanding the road blocks
Listen to this insightful interview with Metro Dallas Homeless Alliance President and CEO, Cindy Crain.
Friday, September 06, 2013
What are we doing to prevent and end homelessness in Dallas?
CitySquare has
five programs aimed at preventing and ending homelessness in Dallas County.
Homeless
Outreach Team (HOT) – CitySquare deploys a team of workers that
walks and drives the streets in and around downtown Dallas’ central business
district to locate and engage individuals who are homeless. HOT workers get to know these individuals and
their unique situations. Individuals are
diverted to the services of various CitySquare programs, as well as the
services of other community partners. Services
include food assistance, housing, health care, and case management, including the
arrangement and coordination of transportation to cities of origin for the
purpose of reuniting with families. In
2012, CitySquare’s HOT team recorded 2349 encounters with homeless individuals
and was successful in connecting 726 individuals with resources for food,
housing, health care, and/or transportation.
Rapid Rehousing – In 2013, CitySquare received federal grant funds through
the city of Dallas to house 45 homeless individuals. CitySquare provides support services,
including case management which connects individuals to services within CitySquare,
as well as to our partners in the larger community. CitySquare’s case
management focuses on working with individuals to provide short-to-mid-term
assistance while helping individuals towards greater self- sufficiency. The Rapid
Rehousing team and the Homeless Outreach Team work together to place some of
the most service-resistant individuals from the downtown Dallas area into
stable housing.
Destination
Home – Since 2004 CitySquare’s Destination Home program has housed over
2,000 individuals who were homeless or at risk of becoming homeless. Through U.
S. Department of Housing and Urban Development grants, Destination Home provides
permanent support housing and case management services to an average of 200
individuals annually. These individuals receive counseling, drug and alcohol
treatment, job support/training and a variety of other services designed to
stabilize their lives and establish a pattern of healthier behaviors.
Transition Resource Action Center (TRAC) – TRAC provides a “one stop”
assessment and referral facility for youth “aging out” of foster and juvenile
care in the 19-county, Child Protective Services North Texas region. TRAC brings together community resources and
intensive case management services to benefit these special needs young people.
TRAC is the only program in North Texas
that exists to comprehensively address the needs of this population which is at
high risk of homelessness. Annually,
TRAC works with over 800 of the most challenged, at-risk teens and young adults
in the region. Participants craft an individualized
life plan and acquire skills needed to survive on their own after”emancipation”
from substitutionary care. TRAC provides transitional housing for many of the
program’s most vulnerable youth.
CityWalk@Akard –
CitySquare’s 15-story building in downtown Dallas is a unique and diverse
vertical neighborhood housing over 200 low-income individuals, over half of
whom were formerly homeless, or in grave danger of becoming homeless. In addition, CityWalk provides much needed
quality affordable housing for low-income wage earners who work Downtown.
CitySquare Community Life Team provides counseling and case management services
to a majority of the individuals and families who live at CityWalk.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Giving to those who beg
Ran across this story from the experience of C. S. Lewis. Tell me what you think of it.
One day, Lewis and a friend were walking down the road and came upon a street person who reached out to them for help. While his friend kept walking, Lewis stopped and proceeded to empty his wallet. When they resumed their journey, his friend asked, "What are you doing giving him your money like that? Don't you know he's just going to go squander all that on ale?" Lewis paused and replied, "That's all I was going to do with it."
One day, Lewis and a friend were walking down the road and came upon a street person who reached out to them for help. While his friend kept walking, Lewis stopped and proceeded to empty his wallet. When they resumed their journey, his friend asked, "What are you doing giving him your money like that? Don't you know he's just going to go squander all that on ale?" Lewis paused and replied, "That's all I was going to do with it."
Monday, June 14, 2010
"How are you, Sir!"
I don't know why I always seem to see situations like I'm about to describe. But, I do.
Last week, I walked into a Downtown bank to do some business.
At the teller counter I noticed two bank tellers.
One's station was closed, but the man behind the "This Window is Closed" sign appeared to be filling a quasi-security role, sort of watching over the station of the other teller.
Ahead of me, an older gentleman approached the counter. He carried a worn backpack. He wore relatively shabby blue jeans. He could well have been homeless. He appeared to be cashing a check or breaking a larger bill into a small amount of change. The off-duty teller watched him with great interest. He never looked at me.
As he stepped up to the service desk, the teller looked past him and said to me, "Be with you in a moment, Sir."
Of course, I assumed that is how things worked there. A line forms. When it is your turn, you receive service. It occurred to me that the teller felt the need to explain why he was forced to serve the poor, homeless-looking gent first.
I replied, "Not a problem at all."
When the customer--that's what he really was--finished his business and turned toward me to walk away, I said to him, "How are you, Sir!"
Before the man was able to get out what turned into a muted response to my greeting, the teller, assuming I was speaking to him, interrupted our encounter and said, "I'm doing fine. How's your day going?"
The customer, the man to whom I directed my inquiry, looked at me and said simply, "Hello."
You may think me overly sensitive, judgmental or seeing/hearing things that are the product of my weird mind. But, I have to tell you, I don't think so. Not at all.
The man ahead of me had little money, and he looked the part.
I had plenty of money, and I was dressed in clean, pressed, relatively new clothing.
He was black.
I am white.
I had an account.
He didn't.
Surely, no one would be expected to greet him with respect.
It's just the way things work, right?
As I left the bank, the story continued.
I got into my car and drove up Main Street back toward my office. As I pulled away from the curb, I spotted the man on the sidewalk just ahead of me.
He delivered the cash he had received in the bank to a man seated in a wheelchair. He handed him the backpack and began pushing him up the sidewalk. Clearly both were homeless.
Both are no less men than the bank tellers and me.
Both worthy of my respect and courtesy.
Why does money and appearance and status matter so much to us?
Why do we fear the poor?
When will we learn?
Last week, I walked into a Downtown bank to do some business.
At the teller counter I noticed two bank tellers.
One's station was closed, but the man behind the "This Window is Closed" sign appeared to be filling a quasi-security role, sort of watching over the station of the other teller.
Ahead of me, an older gentleman approached the counter. He carried a worn backpack. He wore relatively shabby blue jeans. He could well have been homeless. He appeared to be cashing a check or breaking a larger bill into a small amount of change. The off-duty teller watched him with great interest. He never looked at me.
As he stepped up to the service desk, the teller looked past him and said to me, "Be with you in a moment, Sir."
Of course, I assumed that is how things worked there. A line forms. When it is your turn, you receive service. It occurred to me that the teller felt the need to explain why he was forced to serve the poor, homeless-looking gent first.
I replied, "Not a problem at all."
When the customer--that's what he really was--finished his business and turned toward me to walk away, I said to him, "How are you, Sir!"
Before the man was able to get out what turned into a muted response to my greeting, the teller, assuming I was speaking to him, interrupted our encounter and said, "I'm doing fine. How's your day going?"
The customer, the man to whom I directed my inquiry, looked at me and said simply, "Hello."
You may think me overly sensitive, judgmental or seeing/hearing things that are the product of my weird mind. But, I have to tell you, I don't think so. Not at all.
The man ahead of me had little money, and he looked the part.
I had plenty of money, and I was dressed in clean, pressed, relatively new clothing.
He was black.
I am white.
I had an account.
He didn't.
Surely, no one would be expected to greet him with respect.
It's just the way things work, right?
As I left the bank, the story continued.
I got into my car and drove up Main Street back toward my office. As I pulled away from the curb, I spotted the man on the sidewalk just ahead of me.
He delivered the cash he had received in the bank to a man seated in a wheelchair. He handed him the backpack and began pushing him up the sidewalk. Clearly both were homeless.
Both are no less men than the bank tellers and me.
Both worthy of my respect and courtesy.
Why does money and appearance and status matter so much to us?
Why do we fear the poor?
When will we learn?
Monday, January 04, 2010
Looking out from under a dirty hoody
It happened over a month ago. I've not wanted to write about what I observed, but something tells me that I should.
What is it about churches?
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate and benefit from my church. I'm there most Sundays. It provides me great encouragement and inspiration. For me, church on Sundays at this point in my life serves as a true Sabbath, a time of rest, renewal and regeneration.
In short, Sunday turns out to be a very selfish day for me. I'm not a very good church member. I just attend, soak it in and then hit it hard again on Monday.
But, I'm avoiding the matter at hand.
On the Sunday I have in mind, I dropped Brenda off at the front door, parked the car and walked across to the church.
As I walked up to the side door, I spotted one of the ministers. He appeared to be involved in a rather animated conversation with another man. Getting closer to the sidewalk in front of the door, I realized he was talking to a homeless man, dirty, ragged and needing some assistance.
I'm not sure what transpired before I drew within earshot of the conversation. As I came close enough to over hear what was being said, I realized that my minister friend was in the midst of a rather stern lecture to the fellow.
"And, don't be asking our members for money when they come out of church," I heard him say to the man.
The man's reply was inaudible, but his face seemed sad, reflecting resignation to treatment to which he'd grown accustomed over his years on the street.
"Just go on down the street, now, just go on," the minister ordered the man.
I wish I'd not seen the encounter.
Oh, I know and understand the position of the minister. I've been there myself. I've been a lot tougher on people who've come to me seeking assistance. At times, I know I responded in the correct manner. At other times I know that I flat blew it.
The situation with homeless people trying to squeeze out an existence on the street is so fraught with trouble and complexity that I can't sit in judgment of either the minister or the poor man.
It is the church and its systems that trouble me as I think about all I observed on that Sunday. And, I expect it is my own failure in the moment and in other moments like it that troubles me.
Churches just don't organize themselves to handle the rough, deeply troubling, messy, dirty, smelly, rotten circumstances of life, especially on the spur of the moment, you know at those times when people show up at the end of their rope and cry out for real help just when you're about to do something "really important." Or, maybe it's just that the needs of the organized religious community, especially on Sundays, trump the real time challenges of the street poor.
I walked past the two men that morning. Maybe I should have intervened. Honestly, I didn't want to come off as thinking I knew best or better than my friend. Maybe that's just another cop-out on my part.
What I do know is this: I went into the church, received a good dose of inspiration, went out to eat a nice lunch and came home and watched a football game.
The dirty street person did as he was told, he went right "on down the street," not bothering anyone.
But, I can't shake what I saw.
The sadness in his face, that dirty, scarred, rough face looking out from under a filthy, green hoody--I have this feeling it was the face of God that I saw there on the sidewalk outside my church.
That's what really unsettles me.
What is it about churches?
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate and benefit from my church. I'm there most Sundays. It provides me great encouragement and inspiration. For me, church on Sundays at this point in my life serves as a true Sabbath, a time of rest, renewal and regeneration.
In short, Sunday turns out to be a very selfish day for me. I'm not a very good church member. I just attend, soak it in and then hit it hard again on Monday.
But, I'm avoiding the matter at hand.
On the Sunday I have in mind, I dropped Brenda off at the front door, parked the car and walked across to the church.
As I walked up to the side door, I spotted one of the ministers. He appeared to be involved in a rather animated conversation with another man. Getting closer to the sidewalk in front of the door, I realized he was talking to a homeless man, dirty, ragged and needing some assistance.
I'm not sure what transpired before I drew within earshot of the conversation. As I came close enough to over hear what was being said, I realized that my minister friend was in the midst of a rather stern lecture to the fellow.
"And, don't be asking our members for money when they come out of church," I heard him say to the man.
The man's reply was inaudible, but his face seemed sad, reflecting resignation to treatment to which he'd grown accustomed over his years on the street.
"Just go on down the street, now, just go on," the minister ordered the man.
I wish I'd not seen the encounter.
Oh, I know and understand the position of the minister. I've been there myself. I've been a lot tougher on people who've come to me seeking assistance. At times, I know I responded in the correct manner. At other times I know that I flat blew it.
The situation with homeless people trying to squeeze out an existence on the street is so fraught with trouble and complexity that I can't sit in judgment of either the minister or the poor man.
It is the church and its systems that trouble me as I think about all I observed on that Sunday. And, I expect it is my own failure in the moment and in other moments like it that troubles me.
Churches just don't organize themselves to handle the rough, deeply troubling, messy, dirty, smelly, rotten circumstances of life, especially on the spur of the moment, you know at those times when people show up at the end of their rope and cry out for real help just when you're about to do something "really important." Or, maybe it's just that the needs of the organized religious community, especially on Sundays, trump the real time challenges of the street poor.
I walked past the two men that morning. Maybe I should have intervened. Honestly, I didn't want to come off as thinking I knew best or better than my friend. Maybe that's just another cop-out on my part.
What I do know is this: I went into the church, received a good dose of inspiration, went out to eat a nice lunch and came home and watched a football game.
The dirty street person did as he was told, he went right "on down the street," not bothering anyone.
But, I can't shake what I saw.
The sadness in his face, that dirty, scarred, rough face looking out from under a filthy, green hoody--I have this feeling it was the face of God that I saw there on the sidewalk outside my church.
That's what really unsettles me.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Hal Samples and Willie Baronet: HOME
Picked this up from Front Burner, the DMagazine blog site.
Hal Samples has a studio next door to the Main Street offices of the Central Dallas Community Development Corporation.
Willie Baronet Exhibit at Hal Samples' Gallery from Cindy Chaffin on Vimeo.
Hal Samples has a studio next door to the Main Street offices of the Central Dallas Community Development Corporation.
Willie Baronet Exhibit at Hal Samples' Gallery from Cindy Chaffin on Vimeo.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Nothing to fear but our own fear. . .
For some reason people find it very easy to fear "the poor."
I suppose my experiences with poor folks over the past 30 years contribute to my lack of patience and my weariness with such ignorance. And, just about every day I gather some bit of new evidence that confirms and deepens my perspective on this matter.
There is no reason to fear "the poor."
Recently, I received a note written by Judy Lawrence, the Properties Manager for the Central Dallas CDC. She is in charge of leasing up our various housing properties, including the big project at 511 N. Akard, CityWalk @Akard that includes 150 affordable housing units and 50 set aside for homeless persons.
As we move closer to opening date, Judy spends much of her day interviewing prospective tenants.
Her reflections provide the latest evidence that our fears are very misplaced:
I've had 3 interviews for CityWalk already this morning. Each interviewee impressed me in so many ways....two young women with awful experiences in their lives - just trying to turn their lives around and one older man, currently living in his truck who, when I mentioned the one community room that was set up as a rehearsal room, eyes lit up and excitement filled his face and resonated in his voice. He was a song and dance man. He still loves to sing and dance - sang at festivals throughout Texas and the prospect of being able to do that again brought tears to his eyes. His voice cracked as he talked about how much he'd love to do that again and he ended by saying...I don't know what to say to which I responded...it is what Rev. King said...keep hope alive. He just left the office and he thanked me for giving him hope. My response, no sir, it is you who give us hope and we need to translate that hope into a reality.
All three people had lost hope - that is what CityWalk is all about. Take the politics out of it. Take the rhetoric out of it. Simply listen to the heart and it says it all.
Thanks, Judy, I needed that!
We just don't need to waste another moment on fearing one another.
.
I suppose my experiences with poor folks over the past 30 years contribute to my lack of patience and my weariness with such ignorance. And, just about every day I gather some bit of new evidence that confirms and deepens my perspective on this matter.
There is no reason to fear "the poor."
Recently, I received a note written by Judy Lawrence, the Properties Manager for the Central Dallas CDC. She is in charge of leasing up our various housing properties, including the big project at 511 N. Akard, CityWalk @Akard that includes 150 affordable housing units and 50 set aside for homeless persons.
As we move closer to opening date, Judy spends much of her day interviewing prospective tenants.
Her reflections provide the latest evidence that our fears are very misplaced:
I've had 3 interviews for CityWalk already this morning. Each interviewee impressed me in so many ways....two young women with awful experiences in their lives - just trying to turn their lives around and one older man, currently living in his truck who, when I mentioned the one community room that was set up as a rehearsal room, eyes lit up and excitement filled his face and resonated in his voice. He was a song and dance man. He still loves to sing and dance - sang at festivals throughout Texas and the prospect of being able to do that again brought tears to his eyes. His voice cracked as he talked about how much he'd love to do that again and he ended by saying...I don't know what to say to which I responded...it is what Rev. King said...keep hope alive. He just left the office and he thanked me for giving him hope. My response, no sir, it is you who give us hope and we need to translate that hope into a reality.
All three people had lost hope - that is what CityWalk is all about. Take the politics out of it. Take the rhetoric out of it. Simply listen to the heart and it says it all.
Thanks, Judy, I needed that!
We just don't need to waste another moment on fearing one another.
.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Checking the news. . .
Forgive the quality of the image here.
I captured it on the move with the camera in my phone.
The corner is just off Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago.
What you're looking at is a homeless man reading a newspaper he dug out of the trash can.
I noticed him as I approached the corner and as I waited for the traffic light to change. I was there long enough to observe him making his way through several pages of the front section of the newspaper. He was lost in his reading, sort of like me over my cereal in the morning.
It occurred to me to try to record the scene simply because of what it conveys about this one man, homeless persons in general and all of us who walk the streets of cities like Chicago.
Just because this man is among the poorest in his city doesn't mean he isn't interested in finding out what is going on. He couldn't afford to buy a paper, but he found a way to get what he felt he needed.
As I recall the scene with the help of this blurred imagine, it hits me again that we are all about the same when you get right down to it.
Thoughts?
.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Tough Times
The harshness of the economic meltdown crushes new families.
More of us are closer to the edge than we want to admit.
Take a look here.
More of us are closer to the edge than we want to admit.
Take a look here.
Or, read this report.
.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
A blind beggar, a crowded subway train and a prayer
On Monday, I found myself jammed into the extremely crowded "4 train" that I caught at the corner of Lexington and 125th Street in the Bronx. I was on my way to Yankee Stadium to see the Chicago White Sox play the Yankees in what in the seventh to last game to be contested in the historic, old stadium. Definitely stuff for a future, less serious post.
As we all stood literally nose-to-nose, the train stopped and even more folks crowded on. Among them, a blind man with a long, white walking stick. He carried a large plastic cup extended before him to receive offerings in exchange for the message hecalled out kindly to one and all. Unlike most street preachers, this man's message was much more subdued with a sadness about it that reflected his own disposition.
I noted that two rather dramatic scars crossed the side of his face, apparently the work of someone wielding a sharp knife at some point in his not too distant past.
He took his text from St. Paul's epistle to the Ephesians as he called out that we all should concern ourselves with dressing in the "whole armor of God" so that we could stand successfully in these evil times against the source of all evil.
Being accustomed to such sights and sounds, I suppose, most people paid the man no attention whatsoever. A few others turned away in a sort of spontaneous embarrassment for the man. Other reactions ranged from curiosity and amusement to disgust.
The street preacher passed within a foot of me as he made his way right down the middle of our car. He preached and felt his way along step-by-step. To be honest, I didn't know what to make of the fellow. I do expect his chosen method of communicating his message may need to be rethought a bit. But, then, possibly that was not his concern or the point of his presence.
I'm not sure how many others, if any, saw what I saw next right at the end of my encounter with the man.
He got off the train at the stop just after he entered. As the train pulled away from the stop, I turned and looked through the window in the door. There he was. Head bowed. Hands folded and drawn up to this face, the strange, blind gentleman had turned back to the train as it began to move. He was praying for us. Undeterred by the total lack of response on our part, the man who couldn't see completed his tour by offering a prayer for everyone on our car.
As the train moved down the track, I watched as he crossed himself and turned to move up the platform toward the steps, tapping his way with his white stick and continuing to call out to those who had no time for listening.
The man's face and his gift of a prayer. . . that image will be with me for a long time, I know.
__________________________
Answers to the little quiz posted yesterday:
1. Based on the 2006 census data, how many individuals live below the federal poverty line in Dallas County?
a. 382,161
b. 259,511
c. 90,965
2. Of those living below the poverty line in Dallas County, how many are children?
a. 45,943
b. 162,379
c. 105,677
The answers are "a" and "b"
Stayed tuned for a grassroots effort to challenge the food shortages facing low-income neighbors here in Dallas--coming September 29, 2008.
.
As we all stood literally nose-to-nose, the train stopped and even more folks crowded on. Among them, a blind man with a long, white walking stick. He carried a large plastic cup extended before him to receive offerings in exchange for the message hecalled out kindly to one and all. Unlike most street preachers, this man's message was much more subdued with a sadness about it that reflected his own disposition.
I noted that two rather dramatic scars crossed the side of his face, apparently the work of someone wielding a sharp knife at some point in his not too distant past.
He took his text from St. Paul's epistle to the Ephesians as he called out that we all should concern ourselves with dressing in the "whole armor of God" so that we could stand successfully in these evil times against the source of all evil.
Being accustomed to such sights and sounds, I suppose, most people paid the man no attention whatsoever. A few others turned away in a sort of spontaneous embarrassment for the man. Other reactions ranged from curiosity and amusement to disgust.
The street preacher passed within a foot of me as he made his way right down the middle of our car. He preached and felt his way along step-by-step. To be honest, I didn't know what to make of the fellow. I do expect his chosen method of communicating his message may need to be rethought a bit. But, then, possibly that was not his concern or the point of his presence.
I'm not sure how many others, if any, saw what I saw next right at the end of my encounter with the man.
He got off the train at the stop just after he entered. As the train pulled away from the stop, I turned and looked through the window in the door. There he was. Head bowed. Hands folded and drawn up to this face, the strange, blind gentleman had turned back to the train as it began to move. He was praying for us. Undeterred by the total lack of response on our part, the man who couldn't see completed his tour by offering a prayer for everyone on our car.
As the train moved down the track, I watched as he crossed himself and turned to move up the platform toward the steps, tapping his way with his white stick and continuing to call out to those who had no time for listening.
The man's face and his gift of a prayer. . . that image will be with me for a long time, I know.
__________________________
Answers to the little quiz posted yesterday:
1. Based on the 2006 census data, how many individuals live below the federal poverty line in Dallas County?
a. 382,161
b. 259,511
c. 90,965
2. Of those living below the poverty line in Dallas County, how many are children?
a. 45,943
b. 162,379
c. 105,677
The answers are "a" and "b"
Stayed tuned for a grassroots effort to challenge the food shortages facing low-income neighbors here in Dallas--coming September 29, 2008.
.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Wisdom and permanent supprotive housing
Dr. Ron Anderson, CEO at Parkland Health and Hospital System, put me on to the work and writing of Bernard Glassman, a Jew turned Buddhist, who founded and leads the various works of the Greystone Foundation in New York City. The primary focus for Glassman and his team, beyond spiritual formation, is an incredibly innovative outreach to and among the homeless.
Glassman recognizes the importance of providing permanent housing to people who don't enjoy the benefits of a home. Consider some of his wisdom:
It quickly became apparent to us that the usual approach to caring for the homeless--which was to house them in motels at great expense--was not working, and in fact could not work. Since the motels could make more money on weekends by renting rooms to prostitutes and their clients, they would routinely turn out homeless families on Fridays. Mothers or fathers didn't know where they would be when their children returned from the schools they were bussed to, and the kids whose parents weren't there to receive them after school would be taken into custody by the welfare agencies and often never returned. As a result, parents kept their children out of school. Single mothers or fathers couldn't rent apartments without money, and they couldn't get jobs without training, and they couldn't get training without child care. Given this self-perpetuating cycle, it was hardly surprising that so many succumbed to despair and drugs.
Much of what passes for help is nothing more than a quick fix. You take, say, three thousand dollars and rent a motel room that puts a temporary roof over a person's head for a few nights. But the person is really being treated as garbage, that has to be hidden away for a little while. Nothing in that money helps the person get out of the cycle.
It's like eating fast food instead of a real meal. You provide an immediate rush of sugar, which creates a hypoglycemic condition. Your physical state actually gets worse after a quick fix of fast food. You could, for example, take people into the country for three months and provide them with jobs, housing and child care. But if they returned to the city after that time and there were no jobs, housing, or child care, they would be back in the same cycle.
Most people could see that only a holistic, totally integrated approach could break the cycle of homelessness and poverty. We had to include all the elements and ingredients of a good meal. the biggest and most immediate problem, of course, was to provide some kind of stability, which for the homeless meant permanent housing (Bernard Glassman and Rick Fields, Instructions to the Cook: A Zen Master's Lessons in Living a Life That Matters, pages 100-101).
Our experience in Dallas confirms the truth of Glassman's perspective. Housing, permanent, fit, safe housing will be the key to ending homelessness in our cities.
Reactions from your experience? What are groups doing to address the problem of homelessness where you find yourself today?
.
Glassman recognizes the importance of providing permanent housing to people who don't enjoy the benefits of a home. Consider some of his wisdom:
It quickly became apparent to us that the usual approach to caring for the homeless--which was to house them in motels at great expense--was not working, and in fact could not work. Since the motels could make more money on weekends by renting rooms to prostitutes and their clients, they would routinely turn out homeless families on Fridays. Mothers or fathers didn't know where they would be when their children returned from the schools they were bussed to, and the kids whose parents weren't there to receive them after school would be taken into custody by the welfare agencies and often never returned. As a result, parents kept their children out of school. Single mothers or fathers couldn't rent apartments without money, and they couldn't get jobs without training, and they couldn't get training without child care. Given this self-perpetuating cycle, it was hardly surprising that so many succumbed to despair and drugs.
Much of what passes for help is nothing more than a quick fix. You take, say, three thousand dollars and rent a motel room that puts a temporary roof over a person's head for a few nights. But the person is really being treated as garbage, that has to be hidden away for a little while. Nothing in that money helps the person get out of the cycle.
It's like eating fast food instead of a real meal. You provide an immediate rush of sugar, which creates a hypoglycemic condition. Your physical state actually gets worse after a quick fix of fast food. You could, for example, take people into the country for three months and provide them with jobs, housing and child care. But if they returned to the city after that time and there were no jobs, housing, or child care, they would be back in the same cycle.
Most people could see that only a holistic, totally integrated approach could break the cycle of homelessness and poverty. We had to include all the elements and ingredients of a good meal. the biggest and most immediate problem, of course, was to provide some kind of stability, which for the homeless meant permanent housing (Bernard Glassman and Rick Fields, Instructions to the Cook: A Zen Master's Lessons in Living a Life That Matters, pages 100-101).
Our experience in Dallas confirms the truth of Glassman's perspective. Housing, permanent, fit, safe housing will be the key to ending homelessness in our cities.
Reactions from your experience? What are groups doing to address the problem of homelessness where you find yourself today?
.
Friday, August 15, 2008
The business case for ending homelessness
For a moment, forget the poorest of the poor.
Well, don't forget these folks, just shift your focus of concern for a moment from the human side of the challenge to the financial realities, to the costs of homelessness to any community.
As we continue working on providing additional housing units for the homeless, we realize just how essential it is to make the business case for eliminating homelessness from our community.
Homeless people cost us all a lot. And, many of these costs are unnecessary. The fact is, providing people decent, permanent housing is much more cost effective than allowing homeless folks to remain without housing.
Recently, we conducted a survey among residents who live in housing we provide. All who responded were homeless when they came to us. All are disabled.
Only 16% of those involved in our housing program took part in the survey. And while we will continue to gather data, what we collected in this initial survey provides a very clear "trend line" for our consideration.
We asked very simple questions:
1) In the year before you came into the Destination Home program how many times did you visit a hospital emergency room for any kind of treatment?
2) In the year before you came to the program, how many times were you admitted to the hospital?
3) How long had you lived in your Destination Home apartment?
4) Since you moved into the Destination Home program, how many times have you visited a hospital emergency room for any kind of treatment?
5) Since you moved into the Destination Home program, how many times have you been admitted to a hospital for any kind of treatment?
The results are extremely interesting.
Those who participated in the survey have been in the program for an average of 9 months. Their average age is 57.
In the year prior to coming our way, these folks report 17 ER visits at local hospitals. Since coming to our program, they report 1 such visit.
Likewise, in the year prior to coming to Destination Home, those surveyed reported 4 hospitalizations. Since coming to us, survey participants reported 1 hospitalization.
Clearly, permanent housing makes a big difference for the formerly homeless. But, it also makes a difference for the rest of us.
Ignoring the poor is not only heartless and immoral, it makes no sense whatsoever financially. Good public stewards will invest in wiping homelessness out.
.
Well, don't forget these folks, just shift your focus of concern for a moment from the human side of the challenge to the financial realities, to the costs of homelessness to any community.
As we continue working on providing additional housing units for the homeless, we realize just how essential it is to make the business case for eliminating homelessness from our community.
Homeless people cost us all a lot. And, many of these costs are unnecessary. The fact is, providing people decent, permanent housing is much more cost effective than allowing homeless folks to remain without housing.
Recently, we conducted a survey among residents who live in housing we provide. All who responded were homeless when they came to us. All are disabled.
Only 16% of those involved in our housing program took part in the survey. And while we will continue to gather data, what we collected in this initial survey provides a very clear "trend line" for our consideration.
We asked very simple questions:
1) In the year before you came into the Destination Home program how many times did you visit a hospital emergency room for any kind of treatment?
2) In the year before you came to the program, how many times were you admitted to the hospital?
3) How long had you lived in your Destination Home apartment?
4) Since you moved into the Destination Home program, how many times have you visited a hospital emergency room for any kind of treatment?
5) Since you moved into the Destination Home program, how many times have you been admitted to a hospital for any kind of treatment?
The results are extremely interesting.
Those who participated in the survey have been in the program for an average of 9 months. Their average age is 57.
In the year prior to coming our way, these folks report 17 ER visits at local hospitals. Since coming to our program, they report 1 such visit.
Likewise, in the year prior to coming to Destination Home, those surveyed reported 4 hospitalizations. Since coming to us, survey participants reported 1 hospitalization.
Clearly, permanent housing makes a big difference for the formerly homeless. But, it also makes a difference for the rest of us.
Ignoring the poor is not only heartless and immoral, it makes no sense whatsoever financially. Good public stewards will invest in wiping homelessness out.
.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Mr. B and his community
I'll just call him "Mr. B."
He's been living in an apartment out in North Dallas that we've been able to provide him, thanks to a funding stream from the U. S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD).
Like all of our tenants in "Destination Home," Mr. B is disabled. He endures many physical maladies with great grace and amazing courage.
He is seldom idle.
As a matter of fact, Mr. B has taken on the role of leader of our little community inside this one apartment complex. Everyone knows him, and he knows everyone, their issues, history and needs.
Not long ago, during a tour with some interested folks, the subject of access to reliable transportation came up. Mr. B and others explained that tenants enjoy easy access to DART (Dallas' rapid transit system).
Then, he went on, "Yeah, I catch the DART at least once a week and ride down to a nursing home on MLK where I visit folks who don't have anyone else visiting them."
"That's great," I told him. "Is this a program of your church?" I asked. Mr. B recently joined the New Mount Zion Baptist Church, one of the churches that supports our efforts in Destination Home.
"No, it's not. I've been doing this for years now."
Say what?
Mr. B, chronically homeless and disabled, has been visiting "shut ins" in a South Dallas nursing home for years while living on the streets of Dallas.
As Americans we need to "re-frame" our understandings of our homeless neighbors. I've known that for a long time.
Mr. B takes the discussion to a whole new level.
The problem is that we don't really know, I mean know, anyone who is or has been homeless.
I think we ought to work on that. How about you?
I can tell you for sure, as we do so, we are in for some real surprises.
.
He's been living in an apartment out in North Dallas that we've been able to provide him, thanks to a funding stream from the U. S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD).
Like all of our tenants in "Destination Home," Mr. B is disabled. He endures many physical maladies with great grace and amazing courage.
He is seldom idle.
As a matter of fact, Mr. B has taken on the role of leader of our little community inside this one apartment complex. Everyone knows him, and he knows everyone, their issues, history and needs.
Not long ago, during a tour with some interested folks, the subject of access to reliable transportation came up. Mr. B and others explained that tenants enjoy easy access to DART (Dallas' rapid transit system).
Then, he went on, "Yeah, I catch the DART at least once a week and ride down to a nursing home on MLK where I visit folks who don't have anyone else visiting them."
"That's great," I told him. "Is this a program of your church?" I asked. Mr. B recently joined the New Mount Zion Baptist Church, one of the churches that supports our efforts in Destination Home.
"No, it's not. I've been doing this for years now."
Say what?
Mr. B, chronically homeless and disabled, has been visiting "shut ins" in a South Dallas nursing home for years while living on the streets of Dallas.
As Americans we need to "re-frame" our understandings of our homeless neighbors. I've known that for a long time.
Mr. B takes the discussion to a whole new level.
The problem is that we don't really know, I mean know, anyone who is or has been homeless.
I think we ought to work on that. How about you?
I can tell you for sure, as we do so, we are in for some real surprises.
.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
The Bridge
I visited The Bridge last Wednesday night. Accompanying me were six other men who are my friends and who share a common commitment to seeing life improve for the homeless population here in Dallas.
Use the "Search" tool on this page or Google "The Bridge" to learn more about the new, city-owned facility. And, for full disclosure sake, you should know that I serve on the Board of Directors for the Metro Dallas Homeless Alliance, the organization responsible for its management and operations.
I wanted to go there at night. I wanted to be inside after the gates close. I wanted to see firsthand how things were going after about two months operation. While I had been there about once a week since it opened, I had never dropped in after dark.
Over 500 people were finding a place to sleep in the pavillion area that includes a covered shelter area with about 200 cots. The balance of the folk were sleeping on mats under the stars of the courtyard area. Another 100 were sheltered inside the transitional housing area of the facility.
As before when I've visited, I walked around for about an hour just talking to people--asking how they liked the place, how they were being treated, etc. Not surprisingly, most didn't want to be there. Most were eager to get out and off the streets.
There is no doubt that the facility has removed hundreds of people from the streets of Dallas, both at night and during the day. Driving down Young Street toward City Hall during the day, you can observe the noticeable disappearance of a large number of homeless persons, though a handfull persist in camping in their old familiar places. We're also told that "criminal activity" in the Downtown area has dropped significantly. Most of the eliminated offenses are acts of vagrancy that simply have to do with being human. Still, The Bridge provides a place of some respite, support and resources for those who are there.
In reality, the place is overwhelmed. Too many people in need, too little space, staff and resources to meet the demand.
I gave out lots of business cards and told people about our Destination Home effort that provides permanent, supportive housing to disabled individuals. Before I made it home, I had received two calls and the following day the phone rang steadily with calls from those who were interested.
While I could write much more about the experience, I came away with one fundamental understanding: as a community, we must develop, build, open hundreds of additional units of housing for the homeless. Additional housing resources will bring the numbers down at The Bridge. Permanent housing units will open the transitional function of The Bridge to the possibility of success.
Without more permanent, supportive housing, The Bridge will not be successful. Without housing resources that are easy to access, no matter how accomplished the management team, success will be impossible.
It is my firm belief that many, if not most, of the people I encountered during my most recent visit are currently ready for housing. That is not the question.
The real questions are these:
1. Does Dallas have the moral and political will to provide the resources to develop the housing that is needed? To meet the challenge and fulfill the need will take new dollars and new risk. But, every dollar invested will return a premium in terms of quality of life in our community for everyone.
2. And, can service providers come to understand that we aren't the secret to success in this endeavor? My experience teaches me that most people don't need me to improve their experience of life. Most need a fair opportunity and all need freedom to choose what services they will take advantage of. Housing first should become our mantra. Those who need special services can be assisted in finding them, but only AFTER they are housed.
We must find ways to break the logjam at The Bridge. To me, the solution is very clear: new determination coupled with a new vision for how we respond to the poorest among us.
.
Use the "Search" tool on this page or Google "The Bridge" to learn more about the new, city-owned facility. And, for full disclosure sake, you should know that I serve on the Board of Directors for the Metro Dallas Homeless Alliance, the organization responsible for its management and operations.
I wanted to go there at night. I wanted to be inside after the gates close. I wanted to see firsthand how things were going after about two months operation. While I had been there about once a week since it opened, I had never dropped in after dark.
Over 500 people were finding a place to sleep in the pavillion area that includes a covered shelter area with about 200 cots. The balance of the folk were sleeping on mats under the stars of the courtyard area. Another 100 were sheltered inside the transitional housing area of the facility.
As before when I've visited, I walked around for about an hour just talking to people--asking how they liked the place, how they were being treated, etc. Not surprisingly, most didn't want to be there. Most were eager to get out and off the streets.
There is no doubt that the facility has removed hundreds of people from the streets of Dallas, both at night and during the day. Driving down Young Street toward City Hall during the day, you can observe the noticeable disappearance of a large number of homeless persons, though a handfull persist in camping in their old familiar places. We're also told that "criminal activity" in the Downtown area has dropped significantly. Most of the eliminated offenses are acts of vagrancy that simply have to do with being human. Still, The Bridge provides a place of some respite, support and resources for those who are there.
In reality, the place is overwhelmed. Too many people in need, too little space, staff and resources to meet the demand.
I gave out lots of business cards and told people about our Destination Home effort that provides permanent, supportive housing to disabled individuals. Before I made it home, I had received two calls and the following day the phone rang steadily with calls from those who were interested.
While I could write much more about the experience, I came away with one fundamental understanding: as a community, we must develop, build, open hundreds of additional units of housing for the homeless. Additional housing resources will bring the numbers down at The Bridge. Permanent housing units will open the transitional function of The Bridge to the possibility of success.
Without more permanent, supportive housing, The Bridge will not be successful. Without housing resources that are easy to access, no matter how accomplished the management team, success will be impossible.
It is my firm belief that many, if not most, of the people I encountered during my most recent visit are currently ready for housing. That is not the question.
The real questions are these:
1. Does Dallas have the moral and political will to provide the resources to develop the housing that is needed? To meet the challenge and fulfill the need will take new dollars and new risk. But, every dollar invested will return a premium in terms of quality of life in our community for everyone.
2. And, can service providers come to understand that we aren't the secret to success in this endeavor? My experience teaches me that most people don't need me to improve their experience of life. Most need a fair opportunity and all need freedom to choose what services they will take advantage of. Housing first should become our mantra. Those who need special services can be assisted in finding them, but only AFTER they are housed.
We must find ways to break the logjam at The Bridge. To me, the solution is very clear: new determination coupled with a new vision for how we respond to the poorest among us.
.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Allowing for the music
Recently, I had a young professional guy, actually a banker by trade, visit me at my office. Looking for business, he dropped by to explain his bank's products and services. He also came trying to figure out who we are and what we are up to as an organization. Nice guy.
In the course of our conversation he asked me what lots of people ask, "So, what do you do when a homeless person asks you for money?"
Of course, unlike lots of people, I don't have a standard answer to that question.
I told him, "In my opinion and in my experience, it seems to me that you just have to follow your heart in the moments of such encounters."
The fact is, I do different things at different times.
Later that same day I met with Dr. Ron Anderson, President and CEO at Parkland Health and Hospital System.
My purpose was to brief him on our future plans for homeless housing and our need to develop a sound business case for ending homelessness in Dallas.
As always when I have the privilege of visiting with Dr. Anderson, our conversation was wide-ranging.
In the middle of our talk, he told me that Native American thought teaches that everyone has a song and every song should be welcomed and heard.
"When another person shares their song with you, it is a precious gift and deserves to be heard, received, honored and enjoyed," he noted.
"The problem is, too often, we don't want to know or hear the songs of other people, especially the poor, the homeless and the troubled," he continued.
Brilliant analysis.
We don't want to hear the stories, listen to the songs or view the photos, do we? Can we keep it real here?
Out of sight, out of hearing, out of mind--no threat to my desire to control my environment, so long as I ignore what is around me.
This refusal to hear, to allow for the music from others, is the death of community.
We need the music of others, no matter what informs the lyrics or the melodies.
People need to be heard. People need to sing!
I need to hear, to see, to absorb and to confront.
Community is life lived in the music provided by others.
Silence is not golden. It is deadly.
.
In the course of our conversation he asked me what lots of people ask, "So, what do you do when a homeless person asks you for money?"
Of course, unlike lots of people, I don't have a standard answer to that question.
I told him, "In my opinion and in my experience, it seems to me that you just have to follow your heart in the moments of such encounters."
The fact is, I do different things at different times.
Later that same day I met with Dr. Ron Anderson, President and CEO at Parkland Health and Hospital System.
My purpose was to brief him on our future plans for homeless housing and our need to develop a sound business case for ending homelessness in Dallas.
As always when I have the privilege of visiting with Dr. Anderson, our conversation was wide-ranging.
In the middle of our talk, he told me that Native American thought teaches that everyone has a song and every song should be welcomed and heard.
"When another person shares their song with you, it is a precious gift and deserves to be heard, received, honored and enjoyed," he noted.
"The problem is, too often, we don't want to know or hear the songs of other people, especially the poor, the homeless and the troubled," he continued.
Brilliant analysis.
We don't want to hear the stories, listen to the songs or view the photos, do we? Can we keep it real here?
Out of sight, out of hearing, out of mind--no threat to my desire to control my environment, so long as I ignore what is around me.
This refusal to hear, to allow for the music from others, is the death of community.
We need the music of others, no matter what informs the lyrics or the melodies.
People need to be heard. People need to sing!
I need to hear, to see, to absorb and to confront.
Community is life lived in the music provided by others.
Silence is not golden. It is deadly.
.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Death with dignity. . .at home
Lowrance Bonner died last Wednesday evening. . .at home.
Mr. Bonner lived in the nice apartment provided by Central Dallas Ministries' Destination Home program, our effort to place the homeless in housing first, thanks to a grant from the U. S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD)
Once a person moves into his or her new home, services and activities are offered freely and enthusiastically. However, participation in these offerings is not a requirement to live in the housing we provide. Our philosophy, our experience and our national research teach us that what homeless people need first and foremost are homes.
Lowrance Bonner lived in such a home. Clean, bright, freshly painted and furnished. His one-bedroom apartment was his home.
I did not know him personally. I regret that.
I mourn his passing. I wish he had not experienced the massive heart attack that took him away from us.
As I regret his death, I am grateful that he died at home, in his home, and not on our tough streets.
"Housing first" is all about dignity and respect. Mr. Bonner experienced both during the last months of his life. I very glad that he had his home here among us before moving on to an even more permanent, even more supportive home.
Thanks to HUD and to millions of American taxpayers for making his home here possible.
.
Mr. Bonner lived in the nice apartment provided by Central Dallas Ministries' Destination Home program, our effort to place the homeless in housing first, thanks to a grant from the U. S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD)
Once a person moves into his or her new home, services and activities are offered freely and enthusiastically. However, participation in these offerings is not a requirement to live in the housing we provide. Our philosophy, our experience and our national research teach us that what homeless people need first and foremost are homes.
Lowrance Bonner lived in such a home. Clean, bright, freshly painted and furnished. His one-bedroom apartment was his home.
I did not know him personally. I regret that.
I mourn his passing. I wish he had not experienced the massive heart attack that took him away from us.
As I regret his death, I am grateful that he died at home, in his home, and not on our tough streets.
"Housing first" is all about dignity and respect. Mr. Bonner experienced both during the last months of his life. I very glad that he had his home here among us before moving on to an even more permanent, even more supportive home.
Thanks to HUD and to millions of American taxpayers for making his home here possible.
.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Destination Home "testimony"
Want a lift?
Need a shot of hope?
Want some encouragement about what is actually possible in the lives of the poorest urban Americans?
Take a look at a short video clip we put together to tell the stories of "Destination Home," our initiative aimed at providing permanent supportive housing for our homeless brothers and sisters.
To view click here or visit CDM's YouTube channel below:
As always, I'd appreciate your feedback, conversation and questions!
Need a shot of hope?
Want some encouragement about what is actually possible in the lives of the poorest urban Americans?
Take a look at a short video clip we put together to tell the stories of "Destination Home," our initiative aimed at providing permanent supportive housing for our homeless brothers and sisters.
To view click here or visit CDM's YouTube channel below:
As always, I'd appreciate your feedback, conversation and questions!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Retreating on the poor. . .
Did you see the report on the group of men who took part in a spiritual retreat in Austin, Texas during Holy Week?
It seems the leader of a homeless ministry in that city leads such a group of "seekers" onto the streets for three days. The goal of the retreat is "to connect with God" by striping away the normal creature comforts of the participants. The intention is to "walk among the poor as Jesus did" to grasp the power of the resurrection. Appropriate Easter theme.
One of the participants commented, "We're made aware again just how much of a chasm there is between who we are and who we could be." You know, there but for the grace of God go I.
Another confesses that he wants to "see Jesus in the faces of people who live here permanently." The experience of detachment from the materialism of his normal life causes him to feel like
"standing on a mountaintop and shouting 'Don't you see where the peace is?'"
Such analysis always prompts me to think or to say, "Wonder if the homeless and the impoverished frame their poverty in such joyous, spiritual terms?"
One of the men is a retired theology professor who reported that he has been thinking about the randomness of his situation compared to the homeless people he will meet on the streets. "You meet people in the world who are really powerless. The shoe could be on the other foot." He makes a clear connection between his experience on the streets among the very poor and a personal discovery of how Jesus shared in the human condition during his life.
I expect this little group of Holy Week pilgrims discovered great benefit in their short-term street experience. I expect they learned a great deal from the experience, including new insights about themselves.
But, am I the only person put off by the entire concept?
Wouldn't a more productive way to escape the troublesome limits of materialism involve giving and sharing the wealth and the goods that success brings on a consistent basis? I mean, is it really a good thing to use the poor to grow spiritually in such come and go fashion?
How about forming a new spiritual commitment to doing the hard, daily work of battling poverty on as many fronts and in as many ways as are both possible and necessary to see things actually change?
Maybe these men leave the streets more committed than ever to put an end to homelessness in the Texas capitol. But the report I read in the Austin American-Statesman did not mention such new resolve born of the group's Lenten repentance.
To presume to "come and go" for my own personal "spiritual benefit" seems to raise lots of questions that don't have very satisfying answers.
Maybe it's just me. What do you think?
.
It seems the leader of a homeless ministry in that city leads such a group of "seekers" onto the streets for three days. The goal of the retreat is "to connect with God" by striping away the normal creature comforts of the participants. The intention is to "walk among the poor as Jesus did" to grasp the power of the resurrection. Appropriate Easter theme.
One of the participants commented, "We're made aware again just how much of a chasm there is between who we are and who we could be." You know, there but for the grace of God go I.
Another confesses that he wants to "see Jesus in the faces of people who live here permanently." The experience of detachment from the materialism of his normal life causes him to feel like
"standing on a mountaintop and shouting 'Don't you see where the peace is?'"
Such analysis always prompts me to think or to say, "Wonder if the homeless and the impoverished frame their poverty in such joyous, spiritual terms?"
One of the men is a retired theology professor who reported that he has been thinking about the randomness of his situation compared to the homeless people he will meet on the streets. "You meet people in the world who are really powerless. The shoe could be on the other foot." He makes a clear connection between his experience on the streets among the very poor and a personal discovery of how Jesus shared in the human condition during his life.
I expect this little group of Holy Week pilgrims discovered great benefit in their short-term street experience. I expect they learned a great deal from the experience, including new insights about themselves.
But, am I the only person put off by the entire concept?
Wouldn't a more productive way to escape the troublesome limits of materialism involve giving and sharing the wealth and the goods that success brings on a consistent basis? I mean, is it really a good thing to use the poor to grow spiritually in such come and go fashion?
How about forming a new spiritual commitment to doing the hard, daily work of battling poverty on as many fronts and in as many ways as are both possible and necessary to see things actually change?
Maybe these men leave the streets more committed than ever to put an end to homelessness in the Texas capitol. But the report I read in the Austin American-Statesman did not mention such new resolve born of the group's Lenten repentance.
To presume to "come and go" for my own personal "spiritual benefit" seems to raise lots of questions that don't have very satisfying answers.
Maybe it's just me. What do you think?
.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
"Destination Home" on Christian News Focus
Thanks to 90.9 KCBI Dallas/Ft. Worth's "Christian News Focus" program for profiling our Destination Home program.
Below is an audio player for their story, which can also be heard here:
http://www.houndbite.com/?houndbite=2656. I thought it might be encouraging.
It is fairly simple really. This initiative is built upon one realization: Homeless people need places to call home.
Below is an audio player for their story, which can also be heard here:
http://www.houndbite.com/?houndbite=2656. I thought it might be encouraging.
It is fairly simple really. This initiative is built upon one realization: Homeless people need places to call home.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Two groups of robbers. . .
Rev. Robert E. Price, Pastor for the New Mt. Zion Baptist Church here in Dallas has become a great new partner with us. His church supports our Destination Home initiative that provides permanent supportive housing for formerly homeless men and women.
Recently, Rev. Price offered a prayer on behalf of CDM and our efforts among our homeless neighbors. He referred to Jesus' familiar story of the Good Samaritan. He said that there was a man who fell among two groups of thieves.
The first group robbed him and beat him up.
The second group passed him by in his time of distress.
Only the Samaritan stopped to care.
What an insight!
There are all kinds of ways to rob people, aren't there?
Recently, Rev. Price offered a prayer on behalf of CDM and our efforts among our homeless neighbors. He referred to Jesus' familiar story of the Good Samaritan. He said that there was a man who fell among two groups of thieves.
The first group robbed him and beat him up.
The second group passed him by in his time of distress.
Only the Samaritan stopped to care.
What an insight!
There are all kinds of ways to rob people, aren't there?
I'm thinking the second group of robbers were the worst of all.
How about you?
.
.
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