Every time I see my friends on the street, it’s like we haven’t seen each other in weeks or months. Sometimes, it’s only too true.
I’ve left a friend on a cheerful day; only to find him days later just as gloomy and broke down as I’d ever seen him before. And I’ve had to leave a friend sick, sorry and sad on a Sunday (unable to help); only to see him weeks later, and it’s as if he’d just won the lottery!
Too many times when I see a homeless friend and ask “How yah doin’?” the resolute reply is “WITHOUT!” Often, the reply is “Got a beer?” (I don’t even drink.) Sometimes, I don’t get wordy replies from my friends; only outstretched arms eagerly grasping for hugs – I love times like those!
When I found our friends on the eastside this past Sunday morning, I noticed that the group was particularly on edge. Even while some were drunk or high already – usually meaning a ‘spirited’ Sunday of celebrating ahead – there was an air of apprehension among the group. The family had a problem; I just didn’t know what the problem was – yet.
As I set out boxes of chips, I offered pop and sandwiches and asked, “What’s up, guys?”
“Oh, we got money,” one says.
“Yeah,” adds another, “And we started with a-half-a-G, but that’s gone.”
With a brief laugh, Robin blurted out, "BUT WE’RE IN TROUBLE NOW!”
Painful moans and groans of agreement rose from among the group. He continued, “We’re in trouble now … cuz’ our bootlegger started drinkin’!”
“OH, OH!” I thought, “That can’t be good news; especially on a Sunday in Minneapolis!”
If you’ve never had an addiction, never a nasty habit, never a hurtful manner about you (if you’ve never sinned before), you probably don't understand; but, if you can imagine …
It’s Sunday. You’re alone in a crowd, stoned and chasing the high. You have money, but no liquor stores open; no way to keep your broken-self fixed. Like every other Sunday, you figure to call the bootlegger who delivers: vodka (five bucks a half-pint); beers (a buck a can/case price); and weed (nickels or dimes). But it ain’t gonna happen today!
If it's our bootlegger started drinking, then our bootlegger isn’t driving. And if our bootlegger started drinking again, that means there won’t be any bootlegging going on in the near future; or until another bootlegger rises up to drive in her place.
Already that Sunday morning, the booze had run out. Petty arguments had sprung up among the group of friends, afraid to face another day of uncertainty. Young Ricky was off and pouting, ‘sit-signing’ the corner, so despondent he wouldn’t even get up to take money from passerby drivers. Asking Ricky “What’s up?” he snickers, “Cost of doin’ business!”
I don’t understand everything there is to know about addiction and poverty and homelessness. No man can. No man ever will. But I do understand what it means to be ‘without’ on a day already full of foggy uncertainties. I know what it’s like to not have a friend.
But today, I’m with family and friends. And I know what it means when a brother-in-arms exclaims, “We’re in trouble now!”
It means it’s time to circle the troops; time to take inventory; time to be strong when every individual is weak; time to take another’s hand and lift, because nobody is leaving this earth alone!
Sometimes, I wish I had more to give.
Kelly ¶ 9:00 PM 0 comments
There are days I’m just grateful to be home, safe and warm. Today is one of those days.
It started out minus-zero in the double digits when I woke up. As Mr. Coffee spat out breakfast, I thought about the coming day and our homeless family and friends who had to wake up on the cold, hard ground. OUCH! I’ll bet some woke up without hats or gloves or warm coats. I imagine there were a few who woke up without a prayer.
My mind rushed as I planned the coming day.
But before I could head out to the streets, I had business to conduct; the business of nonprofit. I don’t like doing business because I’m no good at administrative stuff. I don’t even understand the term ‘nonprofit’ as it refers to organizations that are supposed to help others. Plus, I don’t think of helping others as a business. I think of all the people who have been helped and profited by churches and foundations and institutions, all in the name of ‘nonprofit’.
But, as a volunteer for a faith-based ‘nonprofit’ organization that helps the homeless and working poor, I’m responsible for minding a mailing list and our PO Box. I keep tabs on contributions and expenses, and I perform sundry administrative duties. I collect and sort and distribute donated clothing and personal items. Plus, I make sandwiches. I’m also the ‘designated driver’, the ‘keeper of the gas-guzzler’, the ‘nut behind the wheel’ of The FellowShip, our mobile canteen and passenger van.
I enjoy picking up the mail at the PO Box. I enjoy opening cards and letters from those who support our ministry with prayers and financial contributions. Today, we were especially blessed with mail, receiving several hundred dollars in contributions. WOW! As I opened our mail and sorted through ten and twenty and hundred dollar checks, I nearly came to tears! I praised God for our blessings and I imagined a hundred ways we could share our prosperity with those in need.
I had to get the van gassed and I’d be off. While fueling, I noticed a green liquid dripping from under the van, from somewhere near the front of the engine. OUCH again! There’s never a good day to be stranded on the streets with a brokeback van, but today would be an especially difficult day, with the twenty-something below zero wind chills! BURR! Plus, come Sunday, I’ll have a van full of disabled and handicapped friends. I thought I’d better have the van checked out.
I could have guessed the bad news: bad water pump, bad serpentine belt, bad various parts, plus three bad hours of shop labor. Total, about $700.00 or 700 meals served to 700 homeless friends. What should I do? Without the van, there’ll be no meals served, no friends ministered to, no hope delivered to the hopeless. Considering the contributions we just received, I figured we had to get the van fixed.
I sat four painful hours in a repair shop waiting on the van. I read every old magazine I could find. I read the entire newspaper twice, with all the ads. I even paged through a Corvette parts catalog (?). And the whole time I sat there, I thought about the friends I missed and the money we’d have to spend on repairs; and all the things we couldn’t do because of our broke down van.
Then, my thoughts turned to praise. I thought about opening the mail and counting up donations earlier. And I thanked God for providing us with an answer to our needs that day before we even imagined we’d have needs.
As I sit back now, safe and warm in my comfortable home, I pray for all of our friends that have to find a bed tonight on the cold, hard ground. And I thank God that He chose me to His service.
Does God have His hand outstretched choosing you?
Kelly
¶ 9:00 PM 0 comments
This past fall, I asked Willie what he was planning to do this coming winter. Thoughtfully, he replied, “Gonna’ avoid it!”
Willie couldn’t be so lucky. No one could be so lucky as to avoid time and chance and cold, things that happen to every resident Minnesotan in the winter. And while this winter hasn’t been too tough yet, winter is never easy for the old and disabled, especially when the old and disabled makes his home in a little clump of woods.
This winter, temperatures and snow totals have been up and down, respectively. If global warming is happening for real, our homeless friends will be the ones least affected. The homeless are quick to adapt to changing conditions, and are hearty survivors when given half a chance. Then again, so is a drowning rat.
But this winter, Willie is a lucky one, because he’s being given half a chance at survival in a little clump of woods. A vehicle barrier was built recently to keep John Q. Public off nearby property (and to fence Bridal Veil Creek in?) As far as I can tell, PoPo has respectfully ignored Willie – maybe even avoided him. Now, that’s about the best luck any homeless person could ever hope to have; the Police and Public ignoring you. It means you must be keeping your nose out of business – but if you are homeless, you got no business anyway.
So what, Willie’s lost a toe or two; like he says, ‘At my age, who’s counting?’ And yeah, he’s still trying to rest his old bones in a frozen-stiff pile of bedrolls; he reminds me, ‘Just when I get all warm, it’s Rise and Shine!’
No, this winter Willie is a lucky one because he’s being given half a chance, and he has family and friends to help him!
OK, OK! Willie’s family may be all volunteers who have adopted him (like you, right?). And Willie could probably count all of his friends on one foot (now, that’s a short count!). But, Willie does have family and friends who care about him …
And that’s more than many of our homeless friends have, even given half a chance.
