My New House
First, we have broken ground on the new parsonage. (Yay!)
For the last two years Dale and I have been in a little trailer, beautifully remodeled AND the reason this entire ministry exists, but also small with no doors to the bedroom or bathroom and windows that, despite our best efforts, cannot keep the pouring rain outside during a storm.
So I am excited about our new house.
I'm not a very good helper, though.
We are doing the majority of the work ourselves and I have volunteered to make the lemonade. Though I was drafted today to hold the croquet mallet (sledgehammer), the bubble thing (level), and the string. (That one I got right!) I hope to recruit more help soon. All my homeless guys have offered to help for a home-cooked meal. We will take them up on it at some point.
The main conflict with getting the homeless guys to help is not what you'd think. It is that I'd have to stay home.
I haven't done much of that lately!
The Vet and the Film Crew
Last week a film crew came over from California to make a documentary on ending veteran homelessness.
One of the main subjects was the former navy cook who'd been in tent city for several years before I met him. He's now in his own apartment, working a job, and has been out of the woods for almost a year.
It was great to see them film his story and to know the part I played in that.
Another part of the film was to shoot the homeless camp Jed had been in and to interview some of the homeless still residing in the camp.
The increased awareness of those that remain helped expedite the efforts to get them housed.
Army Vet
One newly arrived veteran will be housed in a couple of weeks. I took him to get an ID, his papers from his impounded vehicle, and set up an interview with a veteran's organization who will coordinate the rest.
The Parolee
Another guy, newly arrived as well, has some legal issues that required help with transportation and paperwork or he would be immediately remanded to the county jail. He'd come to church the Sunday before the Sheriff's Office called us so I helped him as well. He is currently waiting on what's called an Interstate Compact so that he can finish out his probation in another state.
I don't know exactly what I think about his plan to go to Indiana. I thought I'd seen it all, but apparently I was wrong. He told me he had a wife there and he wanted to go home to her. I was all for putting him on a bus to be with his wife. They've been together over ten years.
Then I found out they weren't married.
THEN I found out he'd never actually seen her in person.
She was his pen pal while he was in prison.
What makes a woman initiate a relationship with a stranger in a prison doing 20 years?
But they claim to love each other. I think she's lonely and he has nowhere to go.
But he's not dangerous and this plan is better than him living in the woods.
So we are waiting for approval on that transfer.
The Katrina Couple
Another delicate situation I'm trying to handle is a couple (not blood related, but more like grandparent/child) who've been together since Hurricane Katrina. They met in a shelter and he's been her caretaker ever since. She gets a disability check; he hustles for his cash.
He's been to church a few times and previously asked for help with his drug use.
She comes to church every Sunday and believes he does no wrong.
But apparently the drug use is out of hand again because rent hasn't been paid for two months and they are being evicted.
The cockamamie stories he's given sound like a page from my old playbook and I told him so. But she believes him and I'm not sure how I can help. I have delicately approached her about changing the payment disbursement to a paper check (instead of the debit card he has possession of) and I've been staying in contact with the landlord, but this is a tough situation.
Obviously he has managed to pay the bills for years, but two months in a row is a pattern you can't turn a blind eye to.
I want to continue to help them BOTH so I must be careful.
Scooter
In another heartbreaking, confusing, and also infuriating situation, Scooter finally has a chance to get out of the woods after ten years. To make a long story short here, he's scared. He's almost institutionalized to a life on the streets.
After begging for help for months, I found a resource to help him move despite having no foreseeable income. Excited, I gave him the news last week-end only to have him attack me with a ferocity I've never seen.
"You just want to make yourself look good."
"You want to put me in another kind of hell, with your rules and your idea of what my life should be..."
The rant went on and on.
I recognized the fear, but I'm human and I make mistakes.
My response was definitely a mistake.
Controlling my words but not the spirit in which I was saying them, I threw it right back at him, "I will not make you do anything. Move out or stay in the woods. I don't care. It's your life. You can stay there and die like Mr. Roger did if you want."
Of course the apologies came from both ends the next day, but the fact remains.
He's scared he can't reacclimate to society and I'm scared he may be right.
The Nursing Home Resident
Jay went to a nursing home after he was released from a lengthy stay in the hospital. Before that he'd been in a homeless camp, unable to move. He was urinating and defecating on himself and the other guys were begging me to help. Before I could get there, they'd called an ambulance.
Three months later, he is much better. We are working on getting him into government housing. But as you can imagine, that is no easy (or quick) feat. He's growing impatient and is slightly confused about things. He calls daily and I try to visit every three days. I call my kids every time I leave and beg them to never put me there.
Santana
Santana got permission to go back home and we put her on a bus last week.
That was one of the hardest things I've seen yet.
Not Santana, who manipulated to the very end, but the others in the bus station.
Two girls, in Pretty Woman-type outfits, were in line in front of us. The one applying another coat of bright red lipstick was no more than 17. The other, in her early 20's, had on a black leather miniskirt with thigh high stiletto boots and an invisible sign reading For Sale.
I wanted to cry. Actually I did start crying because the despair I felt in the whole bus station was so overwhelming I couldn't stand it. With spiritual eyes, I saw addicts, runaways, throwaways...I wanted to do SOMETHING.
I prayed, I BEGGED the Lord for a word to give the girls. I know they thought I was looking at them with judgment; I could see it on their faces.
But it wasn't judgment at all, it was compassion mixed with helplessness.
I wanted to at least say GO HOME!!
But I never got a release from the Lord and I didn't want to interfere with whatever the Holy Spirit was doing so I just continued looking around the room, trying not to interfere with the spiritual battle taking place in front of me.
It's nice to know you are on the winning team...
Mother-Daughter Duo
These are tough, especially when you are dealing with street people.
You think your own mother-daughter dynamic is tough?
These two reached new lows this week, trying to manipulate me into cutting the other one off and helping only them.
It backfired when I told them both they were receiving their final rent payments.
I was done.
Texts after texts had been coming in with completely conflicting stories. I didn't have the time or inclination to sort through them, even though I knew the truth probably was somewhere in between.
What the daughter didn't realize was that I already knew the things she was telling me about her mother. I guess she thought I'd be appalled. She didn't really know me.
The mother didn't realize that I really didn't care WHAT the daughter was spending her money on, as long as she paid the agreed-upon utility bill.
The rest was just a waste of my time.
But miraculously, when I told them both they were exiting the housing program, they came together to create a document citing "misunderstandings" and a unified story.
Sweet! My bluff worked...
I don't think either of them realized I'd raised four teenagers at the same time....
My Birthday
I've tried to keep my schedule fairly light next week as I prepare for my birthday party!
I've reserved a pavilion at the park across from two of homeless camps and I'm having a big fish fry for the homeless.
I've mailed invitations to friends and family, handed out invitations at church, and am still delivering to everyone on the streets and the soup kitchens.
I've ordered a giant chocolate cake (with vanilla cupcakes for the non-chocoholics) and we will be serving fried catfish, potatoes, onions, squash, and hush puppies. (This is what we cook for benefits.)
I'll go the party store and get decorations this week.
I don't mind doing the planning for my party because it isn't really FOR me, it's for EVERYONE and I am so excited to be able to do this.
I was so excited that I created a little poem to go inside with the invitations!
It was
birthday time…
now what
would I do?
Go to the
movies, the beach,
or maybe
the zoo???
No, it was
a party I wanted
A big,
humongous bash!
A party
with family and friends
Making
memories that would last!
But it
wouldn’t be complete
Without my
friends from the streets
So a fish
fry for the homeless
Became the
center of this feast!
Join us on
this day
For fun
that just won’t end
No gifts,
no cost, just come on out
And feel
free to bring a friend!
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