"Hey man, got any spare change?"

People ask me all the time: 

“What should I do when approached by a homeless person for a handout?”

 

And, of course, I have no idea!

 

Oh, I have ideas, but no standard idea or answer.  Everyone is unique, including people without a place to call home.

 

So, I follow "my gut" most of the time with no predetermined, stereotypical response, just like I repsond to others who do have homes in which to live. I realize this deficency on my part drives lots of people crazy, especially professionals!  But, so be it. 

 

One thing I do know from lots of experience: I find it hard to walk on without at least “knowing"  or acknowledging a person who asks me for a little help. 

For me, my entire duty as a person is to come to know God, and in the process, come to know the people I encounter for meaningful engagement with both. 

Every encounter should be considered worth a response of kindness. 

Every person is worthy of my repsect, even if I decide not to honor their requests by providing exactly what they seek. 

What I  always can do is respond with gentleness, attentiveness, openness and respect.   

 

 

 

 

Needed: funding for a dog

My life is filled with unreasonable people.

For instance, a dear friend asked me just today why the city didn't build parks under our freeway overpasses.  His reasoning was that people without homes and nowhere to go but under our bridges would continue to be there.  So, in his words, "Why not make it nice?"

Of course, the answer is simple. 

The homeless hang out under our bridges in really terrible, unsafe and unsanitary conditions because they are not dogs.  In Dallas, we build dog parks under the otherwise useless TXDOT right away.  We do better by the canine population than we do by our homeless neighbors. 

Recently, we "emptied the animal shelters" as part of a nationwide effort. 

When was the last time we gathered support to empty the homeless shelters of men, women and children?  Like I say, dogs do better in Dallas. 

But, my friend got me to thinking. 

What if we buy dogs for our homeless friends? 

Then, they could legitimately use the dog parks that are springing up all over town! 

That just may be the ticket. 

Dogs to the homeless. 

Homeless neighbors finding a place to at least rest for a bit out of the elements in the shade provided by an overhead highway, complete with the company of a very loyal companion. 

What do you think? 

De-bunking the mythology of homelessness 3

De-bunking the mythology of homelessness 2

De-bunking the mythology of homelessness 1

Homelessness should be illegal

You read me correctly. 

We should pass laws that make being homeless a crime in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. 

The idea is not a new one.  More and more people talk like it's exactly what ought to be done. 

I agree. 

Of course, there is a slight "catch" in the plan I envision.  Follow with me.

If we determined homelessness to be against the law in our community and we found that a group of our neighbors possessed absolutely no capacity to obey such an ordinance due to the fact that they had no home and no capacity to secure one, then it would be absolutely incumbent on us to provide accessible housing for those who had no options regarding housing and the law we want to enforce. 

To impose legal categories and requirements on people possessing no chance of being compliant would be unjust, don't you think?

By the way, emergency night shelters don't count as homes.  Everyone who uses a shelter at night is still categorized as homeless by everyone from the U. S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) to those who manage local night shelters.  As a matter of fact, certification from a shelter is one of the main ways a person can establish or prove that they are in fact homeless. 

Any law passed to make a behavior illegal should also include a provision that offers some reasonable pathway for a person to obey its requirements.

So, outlaw homelessness and at the same time you pass that ordinance open up permanent housing for everyone who needs it. 

Everyone would win! 

The public would save tax dollars because keeping people on the street or allowing them to stay there costs much more than providing permanent housing. 

Can't you see it working out? 

"Homelessness is now illegal.   Get off the street!"

"Here are keys to your home"--be it house, apartment or group home. 

That's a statute to outlaw homelessness that I could get behind!

Bethlehem and housing

Bethlehem, it has me thinking today.

About that young couple. 

Can you imagine? 

I know with certainty that the experience had nothing in common with our typical, pristine images of bucolic sweetness and peace!

Joseph, the one who heard from angels, even Gabriel, did his best, but he found no housing for his young bride and their soon-to-arrive son.

He settled for a stable stall and made the best of it.  Really not so different from trying to begin a family under the I-45 bridge here in Dallas. 

An experience like many of my friends live through every night.

Just such a homeless world greeted the baby Jesus.  

However, some don't make it through the night. 

A few nights ago here in the city, an evil person murdered a woman who tried to live in this manger-like environment.    Possibly motivated by some deep mental illness--produced by the street or arising from something equally terrible before the street, who knows?--her killer found it easy to take advantage of the wide open vulnerability of life lived without housing.  

Not much protection available when you have no place to call home.

My friend died a horrible death.

Why?

Like that young couple so long ago, she had no housing--there was "no room in the inn" for her.

As I reflect on the concept and reality of Bethlehem, I realize how important housing is to safety and life.  Housing is a human right, not some option provided by charitable hearts. 

I also realize where God lines up on all aspects of this reality.  The Jesus story reveals that God encountered life as we know it, and God began at the very bottom. 

Where else is there for us to begin?

Christmas thoughts.

Reduced

two beggars

befriend me
for twenty
bucks apiece
every week.

telling stories
give cause
and rationale
for lies
that pay.

witness creativity,
both bring
me joy
and laughter,
friendship stuff.

one man
one woman
both smiling
love me,
use me.

others advise
stop funding
continued failure
for friends
I love.

how different
are "respectable"
friends who
do the
same things?

mercy, Lord
dear Lord
open me
to life,
their life.

Reflections in the face of deep grief

[A couple of weeks ago, a homeless woman and friend to CitySquare was murdered under an I-45 bridge near our new Opportunity Center.  What follows are the reflections of one of our team leaders here at CitySquare.  Jonathan knew Ava well, as his sentiments reflect.  What he says speaks to the faith of our team and the hope of our community.]

Hello all. I arrived at work this morning to find your kind and thoughtful card on my desk. Thank you for your thoughts and offer to help during this time. I am still cycling through different emotions for Ava and the homeless community around the OC. I am angry, then sad, then strangely at peace. Some staff, volunteers, and neighbors are going to meet with me soon to discuss how we can best honor Ava and do our part to create a safe space for our friends in this area, especially under the I 45 overpass. I am reminded of a scene from the movie The Shawshank Redemption. If you have seen the film you will be familiar with the scene during which Andy plays a record of two women singing over the prison PA system. This landed him in solitary but it was worth it to him. It reminds me that there are moments of great beauty, of transcendent truth even in the reality of the ugliness we face every single day. Ava was a person of great beauty. She made this dark world brighter and we are missing more than a friend, we are missing sunlight. I have faith that Ava has been welcomed into a kingdom that has been prepared for her and for all of us since the beginning of time and that as I write this she is comforted and renewed by God. I have faith that this is the destiny of all of us. Thank you all for the work you do and for how much you love and care for our neighbors. I cannot wait for you all to move over here and to see you every day. You are a blessing in my life and a constant source of strength.

Rev. Jonathan Grace

Pastor and Lead Neighbor Relations Specialist

CitySquare

Opportunity Center
1610 S. Malcolm X
Dallas, TX 75226
jgrace@citysquare.org

 

"You remembered!"

A couple of weeks ago some of our volunteers from "the Corner" organized a fairly amazing event. 

We offered an old-fashioned foot washing service, not in a church, but out in a vacant lot. 

The event combined the spiritual and the utilitarian about as perfectly as any experience I've ever witnessed. 

Think about it.

If you are homeless, you walk a lot.  Your feet remain perpetually tired from the parade march that fills your days.  Your shoes may not fit.  A major challenge is finding some place where you can sit down to "get off your feet."  Having your feet washed is like a little taste of heaven, just for a short while. 

What made this event special was the fact that homeless people returned the favor.  Some of our homeless neighbors washed the feet of their housed friends. 

Special stuff.

In the midst of the activity, over at the edge, a friend of mine showed me the blisters that plastered his feet.

His foot is size 14 extra wide!  He has a big foot.

The shoes he wore were about size 11.  They were worn out.  They rubbed the top of his feet raw.

"Brother, Larry," he said, "do you think you could find me a pair of shoes that fit?  That's all I ask."

Of course, I said, "Sure.  I'll work on that." 

Later that day I learned that a size 14 extra wide shoe has to be special ordered! 

About a week later, after the shoes arrived, I found my friend out on the street. 

I pulled up beside him at the corner and presented him with new socks and a pair of 14 extra wide, New Balance walking shoes.

The first words out of his mouth stunned me.

"You remembered, brother Larry, you remembered!" he almost shouted.

I thought to myself, well, sure I remembered. 

Not a big deal.

But to him it was the whole deal.

He turned to a buddy standing behind him on the sidewalk at the corner and said, "They remembered me!  They didn't forget me!"

The shoes were nice.  They fit and everything.

But the great learning, the big take-away for me was the importance and the power of being remembered. 

Like I say, utilitarian:  sore, hot, blistered feet placed in comfortable new shoes.

But, also so spiritual:  "Do this in memory of me"--spiritual in a real world way.  A sacrament of the street.

Let's not forget to remember.

Friends

The photos that follow present images of men I've met over the past several weeks at "the Corner: (use the Search tool at upper left to read more about this special location out near CitySquare's new Opportunity Center).

I post them here without comment.  They are great people, many wounded, broken and struggling.  They are fathers, sons, brothers, unemployed, working, veterans and more. 

Each has a story. 

Each brings a personal and spiritual force to the conversations we enjoy.

None, none should be dismissed out of hand. 

All deserve respect. 

These images could be multiplied in number by a factor of 20 or more. 

Meet some of my friends.

 

 

 

Data: Extreme poverty

Last week an unsettling report came across my desk.

Prepared by one of our Neighbor Support Services team members who engages directly with the thousands of people who come to us for assistance of one kind or another at our Resource Center on Haskell Avenue, the report noted that 64.17% of our neighbors who receive case management services learn less than $10,000 annually.

An additional, small group, (6.84%) earns between $10,001 and $20,000 annually.  An even smaller additional group (4.23%) earns between $20,001 and $30,000 each year.

Almost 80% of the people we touch live in Dallas County.

We work with the poorest of the poor, and the vast, vast majority are not homeless; they are the working poor who understand the toxic stress of the constant pressure of extreme poverty.

Ignoring this challenging reality will not serve us or our community well.

No Corner today

Today snow, ice and cold shut us down at CitySquare.

Our kitchen in the Pantry closed.

Our food warehouse went dark.

Everyone either stayed at home or left early to get there as the weather worsened.

So, I didn't go the "the Corner" today.

No food or drink or coffee to share.

I didn't go, but some of my dear friends did. . .they live there and have few options.

The Corner has taught me that poverty offers few options and often no really good choices.

So, we didn't go.

But they were there in the snow, ice, wind, and what I expect felt like gray hunger.

The Corner has quickened my understanding of things.  It has altered my memory and my experience.

It snowed unexpectedly in Dallas today.

Many of my friends found themselves outside.

It is not enough to remember or to know.

My friends deserve so much more.  They deserve better.

As I say, it is not enough to remember or to know.

Conversations on "the Corner"

Thursday I spent a couple of hours hanging out at "the Corner" again.

I met new people and visited with old friends.  Here's a verbal collage of what I heard.

Job talk--as in the one I just got!  A beautiful young guy beamed as he described his job driving trucks and as he confessed his miscue with drugs that almost cost him everything.  But the job made him beam:  "I don't want anything from anyone. I just want to work!"

Housing talk--"I want an apartment, then a job," one old friend confided with tears.  We're working on it.

CitySquare as a trusted resource--several friends talked about the hope they were receiving from our team around issues like housing, employment, faith and simple respect.

Faith talk/theology--God is always in the forefront of these encounters.  Deep theology meeting very powerful, but simple faith.  You have to be present to hear it to appreciate its power, but it's there and it's off the charts!  Sunday morning at its best has a long way to go to capture this experience and equipping.

We drank hot coffee in the cold wind.

We ate boxed meals and rather dry, hard donated pastries.

We shared laughs and hugs and stories.

There were lots of thanksgiving and smiles and "See ya next week" departures.

Good people who have little materially, but who have great wealth in social, spiritual and community terms.

Wendy

I met Wendy on "the Corner" over a year ago. 

At the time, she "lived" in the old, abandoned house behind the Merandino brothers service station at Louise and Malcolm X Boulevard. 

For several months I tried to engage her in conversation, but she was extremely non-responsive.  She avoided me no matter what I did. 

On more than one occasion, I observed her talking to herself--later I realized that she was discussing how to deal with me and what to make of my presence, my bottled water, and my afternoon snacks.

My preliminary judgment was that she was dealing with some sort of fairly severe mental illness and/or possibly alcohol or substance abuse. 

As the months wore on, Wendy became more and more approachable.  I finally figured out that Wendy wasn't severely mentally ill at all, and she wasn't addicted to anything, except food and laundry money, neither of which she had as often as needed! 

She appeared to be alone on the streets (hold onto this idea and keep reading!).

Estranged from her mother and family, she had some fairly deeply rooted "trust issues" when it came to people, especially men.

She resisted shelters, mainly because submitting to their rules and routine would have meant surrendering the last vestige of dignity and self-respect that remained in her life.  She was grateful for the place to sleep, even though it had no benefit of functioning utilities.  At least, on most nights, she was sheltered, dry and protected from the harshest parts of street life. 

To be frank, my connection to Wendy opened up for the first time after I overheard her ask a guy on the street if she could "borrow" a cigarette.  After hearing the request, I walked over to the service station and purchased a pack of Kools.  When I handed them to Wendy, I thought she was going to faint.  The fact that I gave her what she asked for without conditions or judgment seemed to blow her away, especially coming from me. 

As I got better acquainted with her, I began to provide small gifts of cash and food to help her survive.  She can stretch $20 farther than anyone I think I've ever met. 

Wendy now has an apartment very near my house in Old East Dallas.  She's off "the Corner."  Well, sort of. 

On most Thursdays, when I go to "the Corner," I see Wendy.  In talking with her about her new home, she always makes it clear to me that she comes back to her old neighborhood because that is where her friends remain.  I've experienced this time and again.  Homeless persons who work out housing, often simply cannot just walk away from their friends no matter how good their personal fortunes may have turned. 

Community trumps personal progress on the streets. 

Wendy is a hoot! 

She is a friend. 

I'm glad I know her. 

I expect we'll see even more of her once CitySquare's new Opportunity Center opens later this year. 

Public morality--rich and poor

For years, actually decades, and in rural, urban and suburban settings I've noticed that the background assumptions of our culture, our economy, our policy, our leaders and, yes, even our churches would lead one to believe that the poor are bad, evil or flawed.  At the same time, the rich we consider basically good, moral and favored largely because of their superior moral decisions.  This uniquely American brand of economic morality feels very Calvinistic in its interpretations of life and the human struggle.

These assumptions have led us to a national battle over the proper response to poverty and those captured by it.  Food stamps and unemployment benefits set over against corporate subsidies and tax loopholes:  these are the particulars of our current national debate. On Thursday, (12-19-13), The New York Times published an op-ed piece by Timothy Egan titled "Good Poor, Bad Poor."

It will be worth your time to read it right here.

Reactions invited.

Understanding the decisions "poor people" make--or, moving into another's world

Want to "get inside" the mind, soul and life of a chronically low-income person?  Here's how her story/essay aims to help us understand that which can only be truly understood from her position:

There's no way to structure this coherently. They are random observations that might help explain the mental processes. But often, I think that we look at the academic problems of poverty and have no idea of the why. We know the what and the how, and we can see systemic problems, but it's rare to have a poor person actually explain it on their own behalf. So this is me doing that, sort of.

To read more click here.

Faith, alive and well on inner city streets

Consistently over the years, well-meaning people have asked again and again what we do at CitySquare to "share our faith" with the people we serve.  Again and again, I've tried to explain that the matter and the issues of faith come up again and again in our various workplaces.  The interesting twist, however, is the fact that our neighbors, those who come seeking our assistance in various ways, initiate conversations about spiritual things.

I've learned over the years that "faith" keeps poor folks going.  Most would tell you that faith is about all they have upon which to depend.

One of the latest examples of this reality--it happens numerous times every day--can be viewed in the video below.  I caught this "testimony" out at "the Corner" where I hang out on Thursdays.  What this friend said just erupted from his heart after I asked him how he was doing.

And, I'll say again, it happens all the time in my world.

Tiresome

I've got it good.

I have a place that I refer to as home, complete with running water, bathrooms, a kitchen,  comfortable beds and lots of furniture, electricity, books, televisions; you know, the list goes on and on.

I can never remember going hungry, unless it was one of the very few times I've fasted intentionally.  Like everyone else, I get hungry everyday.  But, going hungry?  Not me!

I have cars.  Not just one, cars.  Whenever I want to go somewhere, I go.  Often, I fly.

I have plenty of clothing in closets--again, not just one.  My sock drawer is running over, sort of like my closets.  I did mention multiples, right?  And shoes?  Too many for one of my closets.

I've had lots of education--informal and formal, with degrees and future options for more.

I have a great family, lots of colleagues and crowds of friends.

I'm welcomed almost everywhere I go.  I get lots of invitations to join folks for fun, interesting events.

People accommodate my needs, my mistakes, my selfishness and my expressed desires, almost all of the time.

When I mess things up, people pull around to compensate, to make up for the ground I've lost.  Or, they confront me with my poor performance, while doing whatever it takes to get me back on track.

I am loved.

I am cared for.

I am encouraged.

___________________________________

 

Last Thursday, as I stood on the red hot sidewalk out at "the Corner," I watched scores of homeless friends stop by for a cold drink of water or Gatorade, a piece of fresh fruit and a snack. 

 

One guy stood out.

 

He was not exceptional in any way, really.  If anything, he was typical.

 

But, somehow I really saw him.  Know what I mean?

 

My hunch is he is younger than me, maybe mid-50s, but he looked much older.

 

His shoes were broken down, run over and about shot.

 

He was barely limping along. 

 

He was so very hot.

 

His brown jeans were filthy, as was his white shirt.

 

He seemed in a daze, not due to the abuse of any substance, but likely induced by too much "street" time in  the heat. 

 

I have no idea why he stood out to me.

 

As I directed him to a cold beverage and a snack, I was overcome with emotion. 

 

My life circumstance flooded over me, as did what I imagined of his. 

 

I had to brush back tears. 

 

This is Dallas.

 

This is the street.

 

This is slow death.

 

This is injustice.

 

How I respond to that one man is the ultimate test of my faith, my life and my heart.  

Street stuff. . .

Thursday on "the Corner" turned out extremely hot and humid.  

We enjoyed the presence of some guests who came to "hang out"--a couple of young business people with an idea for locating a manufacturing facility in the S. Dallas/Fair Park area; six CitySquare team members besides myself.  Then of course, the "parade" of scores of homeless friends who passed by, took advantage of the ice water and the conversation.

People seemed exceptionally weak today:

• A sixty-year-old man with severe glaucoma which creates blindness that he can't afford to treat
• A chronically homeless woman who has become a regular at "the Corner" suffering from what may be walking pneumonia
• Several men and women with physical and psychological disorders who need treatment and can't seem to get it
• A woman who graduated from an overcoming drug abuse program but who needs housing desperately
• Several folks who went through our housing enrollment process who need housing so badly
• Hungry, hungry people
• Hot, tired, discouraged people
• People asking again and again for work
• A friend who is a chronic inebriate, but a friend who blessed me again, as he always does
• A friend whose 90-year-old mother came by with his sister--he hadn't seen them in months--tearful

My buddy Joe, when asked by one of our staff members if we could help him, instructed the "people helper" with his ckipboard that "I'm taking over the conversation."  

Joe made my staff guy sit down.  He then said to him, "Sir, may I help you?  We have cold water if you'd like some."

Our staff guy answered wisely, "Yes, I'd love some water."

Joe retrieved a bottle of water and delivered it to his new friend with flourish.  

"There you are, sir," Joe declared.  "May I help you in some other way?"

The entire production was to drive home the point that being asked if you need help again and again gets really old, especially when you know you could help yourself and anyone else if you had the chance provided by the resources.

Worn out by people offering to "help" you.  There is a new notion, but one so true.