Needless Suffering

One brutal reality of deep poverty can be observed daily in the inner-city of Dallas:  needless, preventable suffering. 

Equally difficult, and linked in a causal manner to the suffering I envision, is simple, but maddening delay. 

When you live in poverty, everything seems to slow down in the face of complicating distractions. 

Take my friend "John." 

I met John over a year ago at our Opportunity Center.  He came seeking medical attention for his gigantic, abdominal hernia that protruded from his tight t-shirt.  After we visited for a while, I referred him to CitySquare's health clinic.  He ended up in the ER at a local hospital after which he made his way to Parkland, our public hospital in Dallas County.

Several weeks later, John shows up at my office looking as if he had lost 50 pounds, a step his physician recommended as a pre-surgery precaution.  He had a ways to go on his diet plan.  Again, a goal made more difficult to he extreme because  he lived on the streets. 

He signed up for housing and languished for weeks on our jammed packed waiting list (just here read "more delays"). 

Then, he reappears two days ago. 

He had gained back the weight that he had shed, and then some.   He explained that he just gotten of jail behind warrants for tickets that actually were not his. 

As we discussed his dilemma, many more defeating, delaying details surfaced.  Of course, not the least of these worries included his hernia, now larger than before. He also informed me that he battled severe diabetes, a fight made almost impossible by his homelessness. 

He looked sick and felt worse. 

I took him to see our community health expert, J. R. Newton, RN, MDiv.  Next thing I know I have a text from J. R. telling me that she has John at the  Parkland ER.  Today she updated me, saying that John was admitted to the hospital where he was receiving treatment for his diabetes. 

When admitted to the hospital he was "very, very sick."  His blood sugar on admission read 723 (normal  is 95-110).  He was lucky to be alive. 

I feel compelled to record his story.  Not to make anyone feel bad, but to  describe what people trapped in poverty face on a daily and often prolonged basis.

Pray for John, please.

Think of  him as you think of our city and our collective response to deep, extreme poverty.  Think of how we might effective ways to at least decouple "needless" from "suffering." 

Time, just a minute

You Will Surprise What Happen When The Homeless Man Ask Him Wa...
You Will Surprise What Happen When The Homeless Man Ask Him Wait For 1 Minute...
Posted by KeeptheHeat on Thursday, August 27, 2015

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.

"Alone" people

After awhile you develop a 6th sense that I call "recognition of reality."  For me it kicks in big time when I'm in an observant role and alone myself. 

It happened for me most recently on Sunday as I drove to my favorite breakfast joint by myself.

I saw three people.

The first was an old woman.  She made her way up the broken sidewalk on a walker.  Hers was not an easy trek.  She carried a bag or two of what looked like groceries.  The bags, though necessary,  made her journey even more difficult.  As I watched her, I knew she was alone, I mean all alone.  I have no idea her destination, but I do know (much more than suspect) that the end of her journey last Sunday morning would be an alone place.

Then, there was a homeless man on a bicycle.  Don't ask me how I knew he was homeless, but he was.  All his possessions seemed lashed to the bike, except for the backpack that he wore.  As I watched him navigate the same sidewalk as the woman, I knew again that his destination would involve a different sort of aloneness.  There would be others present, under a bridge or in a shelter, but still he would end this day all alone.

Finally, on that same stretch of sidewalk another man without a place to call home and on foot.  He stepped off the sidewalk to make way for the chap on the bike.  Some small talk exchanged between the two created something just short of a smile.  This final man, loaded down himself, presented a deep sort of almost palpable sadness to me, though he had no idea I was observing. 

Three people alone, in a deep loneliness. 

As I ate my hot breakfast at my favorite hole-in-the-wall café, I wondered why I hadn't invited them all to share a table with me. 

"Alone" can be a nice place to visit, but it seems to me a terrible place to live.

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.

 

 

 

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.