I
am starting a series called “raw and honest� where I will basically ramble on a
topic and hope for feedback from YOU, my readers. So here goes nothing:
HOMELESSNESS
First
of all, should we even call it “them� homeless?
I mean I know for a fact that they “stay� somewhere, and they most likely
call it “home.�
Urban
dictionary has a new word: urban outdoorsman. A yahoo answer gives some
synonyms too: Displaced. Vagabond. Wanderer. Free spirit.
Street person. Destitute. Camper. Devotee of outdoor living. Cardboard condo
resident.
I don’t know.
Most of those synonyms describe ME.
For
the sake of this blog I’ll stick with: Street dweller.
Here
are stories of street dwellers around the world…
In Australia, I met a
guy named Xavier. He was an alcoholic and did a lot of sitting by the beach. We
would always say “hi� and some of us bought him meal a time or too. The coolest
interaction with Xavier was when he gave free surfing lessons to some
squadmates.
In the Philippines, I
made friends with many families who literally lived under a bridge. I’ll call
‘em bridge dwellers. The children sniffed solvent to curb hunger. The adults
scrounged through the garbage to find scraps of “treasure.� I especially was
drawn to a young boy named Kenneth. He was deaf and mute; he was my friend.
In Kenya, I met a young
boy who was begging for money. I’m not sure if he had a home, but he was 16 and
probably was being exploited.
In Tanzania, I watched
as young boys acted like bees on honey when buses full of white people passed
the border. All we could do was throw them some food and make them smile. I
wish we could have done more.
In Uganda, I passed by
an INFANT child on the street whose hands were propped in the begging position
and was sitting cross-legged alone. I had some beef with God that night. He
comforted me and said “Lisa, I am bigger than this problem.�
In the Czech Republic,
I met a street dweller named Tony and his dog Aaron. When we bought him a meal,
he fed it to his dog. I guess his dog was hungry too, and for Tony, his dog is
probably his most loyal friend.
As
for America, this’ll be a whole new ball game. The language barrier will no
longer be an obstacle for me. I can no longer get away with smiles and pity.
When
I visit downtown Atlanta, what will I do? Will I have the same reactions as most Americans? Will I be fearful? Will
I even say anything? Will I avoid eye contact? Or will I just smile and go
about my business? Will I roll up my window and speed through intersections of
busy panhandling? Will I stop and chat with a street musician?
To
tell you the truth, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I sure hope to God that I’ll
do something (I’ll be the first to let YOU know how it goes).
I
want to hear their stories. I want to be consistent. I want to knock on the
doors of halfway houses and ask why there aren’t more places for “them� to start to pull their lives back
together.
The
problem definitely should not be: “Not enough space at the shelter�…. Even baby
Jesus experienced this.
Maybe
that’s why most homeless know that God is the one that will ultimately save
them… because His son Jesus totally understands… I bet he was called “vagabond�
and “street dweller� once or twice. I mean He was straight up born
in a barn.
All
I know is that if we want to “fix� the problem of homelessness, we cannot
“cover it up� like I witnessed the government in Manila doing. We cannot even simply “give money� and we
have to go beyond serving them food on Sundays. To make a change, we must
INVEST. We must invest our time, our resources, and our people to a global
problem. We MUST create more rehabilitation facilities with devoted attendees.
We MUST encourage non-profits that already exist to push on and to expand. We MUST do something.
