The Squeeze Is On

Derek and Jeannie had to face their reality in a different way a few weeks ago. Their son Abe needed a tonsillectomy, and they had to come up with a four-figure co-pay.  Then they got the news that they didn’t qualify for school lunch assistance for Abe and their daughter Breanna anymore. Under revised guidelines, they make too much money for the program. (Not that what they make feels like too much money to them.)

The bottom line about their bottom line is that they have to come up with an extra 40 school lunches a month now at a time their savings are wiped out. In their wildest dreams, they never thought they’d have to come to the Mission to get help. But for the sake of their kids, they came last week for a food box. Thank God for neighbors like you, dear reader, who bring food to the Mission warehouse or to food collections at schools, businesses, and houses of worship throughout our community. You might be amazed at how many of your neighbors are neighbors in need, if only for a season.

More families than ever are showing up for food distribution at the Mission. I don’t want to minimize the fact that they need all the other things available for families here like clothing, furniture, household and personal items and even (some weeks especially) diapers. It’s that the need for food seems to be rising dramatically -- so much so that we now encourage families to stop by for food boxes an extra time a month if they need to. 

And they’re coming from places all over town. They’re scattered among the local zip codes now. Not evenly, to be sure, but still scattered enough to demonstrate that food insecurity for families is an issue to more of our neighbors than we might have dreamed of just a few years ago. In fact, 1 in 7 people in Colorado are “food insecure.” That’s a less painful way to say those neighbors really don’t know where their next meal is coming from, if it comes from anywhere at all. Depending upon whose figures you read, up to half the population in our state could be food insecure sometime this year--maybe only once, but isn’t that enough?

The squeeze is on for families in need of simple things like food. And there are few situations as compelling to move parents into action as having your kids playing quietly in the next room and assuming that food will be on the table when you’re actually trying to create a meal and there’s nothing left to squeeze out of an empty pantry. 

It’s a wake-up moment. It may be filled with pain or a sense of failure or relief or any combination of the above, but it wakes you up in any case. 

Just as it did Derek and Jeannie last week. So this week, I’m reminding you that the community is coming together over the next two weekends at the Rampart Range campus parking lot of Pikes Peak Community College (across from New Life Church on the north side of town) to offer non-perishable food, clothing, household items, furniture and appliances to help stabilize some of the 27,000 families in the Pikes Peak Region who live in poverty. The things you bring to the “Freely Give, Freely Receive” event will help some families start the journey from homelessness to self-reliance. You might keep others from becoming homeless in the first place. Or, perhaps, you’ll keep a couple of kids in your neighborhood from going to bed hungry.

And if you’re reading this from a distance, think about taking leftovers from the spring cleaning of your closets and pantries to your local rescue mission this weekend.

The squeeze may be on for families in a season of need, but we can do something simple, practical and genuinely helpful about it.

So What Are the Odds?

It was waiting for me as I walked to my office door at the Mission this morning: a lottery ticket. Right there on the concrete landing; all bright and shiny.

Don’t get too excited. It was just a used scratch ticket. Someone had played the odds and lost, pure and simple.

Yet I couldn’t help but think about the odds in the everyday lives of the people we serve. What are the odds that someone becomes homeless, anyway? According to a trusted report on homelessness in America, over the course of a year the estimated odds of experiencing homelessness are presently about

• · 1 in 194 for the general population,
• · 1 in 29 for people with incomes at or below the poverty level,
• · 1 in 10 for veterans living in poverty,
• · 1 in 12 for people living with friends or relatives due to economic need,
• · 1 in 13 for a person discharged from incarceration, and
• · 1 in 11 for youth aged out of foster care.[i]

I don’t pretend to know how those figures strike you. They startle me. Look at them: about a 10% chance of being homeless this year if you’re freshly out of jail or foster care, or if you’re living with friends or relatives because of money, or if you’re a veteran living at or below the poverty line. You have a tad more than a 3% chance of being homeless if your income is at or below the poverty level.

(And just so you know, your odds are significantly better for becoming homeless from the general population [1 in 194] than for winning just $21 from playing a Colorado state scratch ticket [1 in 300].[ii] Just sayin’.)

Someone had thrown the ticket down in frustration or resignation or anger (maybe) for the loss of hope they’d once held in the ticket. I just hoped that it wasn’t someone who was homeless or at-risk. That feeling of loss, that stinging hurt of once having possibilities and now having empty hands, is all too common for our neighbors who come here for help. A losing scratch ticket likely would add insult to injury. But they’d already feel that the odds were stacked against them, wouldn’t they?

That’s why the roles we play as friends of the homeless matter. You matter because whether you encounter a homeless person only on occasion, or you meet new faces from the homeless in your community every day, you become a vendor of hope. Few feel the impact of hope (or the lack thereof) as keenly as those who consistently face homelessness.

Our task is to help them beat the odds against them.

Chances are we have better odds of doing that than in winning the lottery, at least.

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[i] The Homelessness Research Institute. The State of Homelessness in America 2012, National Alliance to End Homelessness, January 2012, 38-39.

[ii] http://www.coloradolottery.com/GAMES/SCRATCH/SCRATCH-ODDS/gamenum/502/.

Jeffy's Choice?

Sometimes I can’t help but think back on my now-grown children playing with friends, years ago, in the backyard. I think of Power Rangers and princesses, of karate kicks and sand cookies. I remember the sure-voiced pronouncements of what they’d be when they grew up:

“I want to be a singer.”

“I want to be a mommy.”

“I want to be a teacher.”

“I want to be a ninja.”

The list went on, of course, in the middle of daring swings from the climbing rope on the fort that housed the slide on the south side of the swing set: “I want to be…” almost anything. The sky was the limit.

It’s kind of strange, but not once in all those years of parental eavesdropping did I hear a child say, “When I grow up, I want to be homeless.”

Imagine that. All those dreams about growing up, and being homeless was never in the mix. Surprised? Probably not.

Just last week Ellen left her home, and in so doing removed herself from her longstanding role as a convenient punching bag for her boyfriend. She’s taking shelter with friends of a friend with church connections while her visible bruises heal and she gets a resume together. Ellen will need a significant boost in personal income to become self-sufficient. The training she needs to get that boost will take time and resources she doesn’t appear to have at present. It will take a lot of support from a growing network of helpers to see Ellen through this season of homelessness.

Ellen is quite uncomfortable in her role as a newly homeless woman. Like many homeless neighbors, she never intended to become homeless. She didn’t choose to be here. But she is anyway.

Of the hundreds of homeless people I’ve had the privilege of meeting over the years I can only think of a couple for whom homelessness was a welcome choice. It certainly is not the preference of Jeff, a middle-aged man who lost his factory job and then his apartment during a time of deep depression. He lives in his van in a friend’s driveway right now, but can’t drive it anywhere until he gets his license back when his DUI suspension is over. He’s working hard as a day laborer when he can get the work, but he can’t always make the transportation connections he needs. There’s no question his choice to drink, and then to drink at the wrong time, fed the conditions that led to his homelessness. But do you really think Jeff hoped to end up where he is today?

Do you think, when he was a child, someone asked, “Jeffy, what do you want to be when you grow up?” and he answered, “When I grow up, I want to be homeless” and as a result pursued the goal to be homeless until he so recently achieved it? Homelessness wasn’t even a conscious option in Jeffy’s dreams, in all likelihood. Homelessness isn’t a desired option for the adult Jeff, either.

If you take time to talk things over with a few homeless people (share a cup of coffee sometime), you’ll probably find that they don’t make many excuses for themselves. In fact, you might discover that they have keen insight on the conditions (some admittedly self-imposed) that made them homeless.

You’ll also find that, almost without exception, they’d rather be safe in a home they could call their own than in a van or on the streets.

Just like us, in so many ways.

“No” as a First Response?

I remember walking the streets of Omaha a long time ago with John, a mentor who was coaching me on encountering the homeless. He simply said, “When they ask you for something, don’t think money. Think lunch. Otherwise you could end up paying for someone’s self-destruction.”

And as if to prove John’s point, up walked Danny. Mid-twenties, greasy hair, dumbfounded look, hugging a dirty trenchcoat around a neon green t-shirt, ragged khakis, untied hightop tennis shoes. Virtually every stereotypical detail of a down-and-outer or an underground punk rocker of the day.

“Hey, midster.” Danny sounded like he was talking through a thick head cold, and maybe he was. Then he lost his balance and bounced into me. Even in my rookie year of street stuff, I recognized the pungent smell of alcohol and sweat bleeding through his pores. Now nose-to-nose with me Danny asked, “Got two bucks so I can get some cigarettes?”

John didn’t trust my resolve at the time, so he spoke up. “Nope, we don’t have any cash to give away today. But we can buy you lunch somewhere around here if you like.”

I was convinced Danny would say no to the offer and be on his way. Instead, he looked around at the restaurant options on the block and, pointing to a working man’s diner, said, “There.”

So began an eight-year interface with Danny. We started by sharing meals and coffee. Then came the process of encouraging Danny to dry out. Then we helped Danny move into an apartment, and then setting up a shoeshine stand. Often he thrived. Sometimes he stumbled. He helped us pack boxes when my family moved from Omaha to Colorado Springs.

Because he doesn’t read, write, or have a phone, we keep up on Danny mostly through mutual friends. To this day, Danny’s life doesn’t look much like a Hallmark movie ending. But he’s still in his apartment, and still working the shoeshine stand, and sober.

Therefore, in what could be a very unpopular position with some reading this blog I am going to endorse, with confidence, the “common wisdom” answer to a common question when encountering people who self-identify as being homeless.

Here’s the question: If someone who appears to be (or self-identifies as being) homeless personally asks me for money, should I give it?

Here’s the common wisdom answer: No. I agree, and make no mistake, I understand that saying “no” to this question has been characterized as being unfeeling, or at least lacking a sense of solidarity with the homeless. Such could be the case if one uses “No” as a response to shut off all contact and conversation with the homeless.

However, what if you said “No” about forking over cash and quickly followed up with, “But I’ll buy you lunch if you have the time,” and then actually shared lunch with them? Or, “Let me drive you to a place that can really help you out,” and then drove them to the local rescue mission to introduce them to someone there who helps homeless people every day?

Of course, you’d have to be ready to follow through with both the time and resources. And you’d really need to be ready to carry on a conversation -- and maybe even develop the beginning of a relationship. You’d take a few moments to offer a neighbor a better way to cope with life, and possibly restore horizons of possibilities they’ve long ago forgotten.

I used to buy my way out of encounters of any length with homeless people by saying “yes” to their first ask for money. Yet Danny’s transformation began with a “no” to his initial ask for money. That’s because, in this case, “no” was the launching pad into contact and conversation that produced the long-term help Danny needed to battle and conquer homelessness.

It’s gut-check time. Are you up for saying “no” so you can offer a better way, maybe even a supportive presence, to a neighbor in need?

Clarity in a Sea of Chaos

Auditory hallucinations -- the “voices” schizophrenics hear -- occur in the same place in the human brain as do nightmares. The difference between you having a nightmare and a schizophrenic hearing those voices is that you can wake up from your nightmares. Too often, even with medication, someone with schizophrenia can’t escape the voices.

That’s another reason we admire our Resource Advocate Program (RAP) staff at the Mission. They work out ways to help people who sometimes seem beyond help to others.

D.W. came to RAP one day after being discharged from prison. His only possessions were his dentures and the prison clothes on his back. D.W. has schizophrenia. Medication seems to have little effect on his auditory hallucinations.

D.W.’s voices endlessly scream insults at him. They also make it hard for D.W. to assimilate and process spoken instructions. So D.W.’s advocate at RAP coached him to respectfully say, “I have two disabilities that make it hard for me to understand what I’m expected to do. Would you be willing to help me by writing it down?” Then the advocate helped D.W. phone his parole office and request the instructions they had given him (some of them as spoken directions only) a second time so she could put them in writing for D.W.

It didn’t stop there. D.W.’s RAP advocate arranged appointments for him, putting those appointments on a calendar for D.W to check every morning when he took his medications. That coaching helped set D.W. up for success in showing up when he needed to. The Mission also gave D.W. a backpack, toiletries and two changes of clothing to help him in this crucial time of personal transition.

It might well be a long and winding road for D.W. in his journey to stability, housing and self-sufficiency. It often is for the chronically homeless. From here it seems probable that he’ll be a regular guest at the Mission for awhile, getting the services RAP can provide.

That’s fine with us. At RAP, D.W. has advocates who know that D.W. can understand expectations that are written out for him. As long as he asks for the assistance his disability demands, that simple practice is building a foundation of hope in D.W. that could lead to success.

We intend to be one voice that actually creates a haven of clarity in D.W.’s sea of chaos. Thanks to the RAP advocates, that can happen.

365/7

Is there life at the Mission after the holiday season? Yep.

Will the hustle and bustle and open hearts of Thanksgiving and Christmas keep our homeless and at-risk neighbors in Colorado Springs secure until late next October? Nope.

Life goes on for the Mission and the homeless we serve after the holiday season. The needs we address during the holiday season don’t let up once the calendar changes into the New Year.

Here’s the drill: After an at-risk family leaves with a holiday food box in December, the food generally lasts them into early January. Then they may need more food to supplement their food stamps, or to give them some breathing room that allows them not to choose between having food and, say, keeping their lights and heat on.

Or, for just a minute now, imagine you’re homeless and on the streets. You get a great Christmas meal at the City Auditorium from the Mission. If you know how to make the rounds you’ll get a few really filling holiday meals a week either side of Christmas. Then you return to your life of meals at various agencies around town; good stuff when you get to them, but you just don’t always get to them on time.

And when the weather turns foul, sometimes you choose between exposing yourself to the elements for a long walk to a hot meal and staying in the trench you dug under the bridge with several others to share and preserve body heat. Sometimes food shows up when you need it and sometimes it doesn’t.

In the middle of this crucible of need are agencies like Springs Rescue Mission. Day in and day out, beyond the events that draw media attention, homeless and at-risk people can come to the Mission for clothing, referrals for medical attention, hot meals and a message of hope (six days a week) at Samaritan’s Kitchen, food boxes, and even household and hygiene items.

The Mission served roughly 4,000 meals to about 2,300 guests between its Thanksgiving and Christmas events at the Colorado Springs City Auditorium. That covers two days of food service, one day per event. The other 363 days of the year the Mission provided a combined 196,000+ meals to our neighbors in need between hot meals through Samaritan’s Kitchen, box and sack lunches, and contents in food boxes. We also served an additional 35,700 people the other 363 days of the year. [i]

The point here is that the need for thousands of at-risk and homeless people in El Paso County doesn’t disappear for ten months even after a very busy and fruitful two months. Events are certainly wonderful, and in many ways necessary, times of celebration and introduction of neighbors in need to the services available at the Mission and other agencies. But the challenge to respond to our neighbors in need goes on 365 days a year, 7 days a week. The stories of people like you helping others can be just as dramatic in February or July as in the second week of December. A food drive in March can be just as important (believe it or not) as one in November.

You get the idea. Clearly, we are grateful for all that happened to benefit homeless and at-risk children, women and men this holiday season. But just as clearly, fighting homelessness and poverty is a 365/7 task.

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[i] To check on these and other SRM program service statistics for FY 2011, start on Page 2 of SRM’s latest Form 990 at http://www.mysrm.org/images/stories/PDF/990_for_FY_10-11_-_SRM_FY10_990_Public_Inspection_Copy.pdf.