Homelessness and You

As a librarian, I get asked all *sorts* of weird questions that I cannot begin to answer.  “Do I really need to know the fax number before sending a fax?” -or- “Who wrote that book about the tropical island?” -or- “Why is my internet/kindle/computer working so slow/not working at all?”  I cannot even PRETEND to be savvy about any of these things.  But usually after a kind word, google search, or system reboot later, we’ve come up with a workable solution.

Lately however, I’ve been met with a question that has stopped me in my tracks more often than once.  I can’t google search my way out of it (What?!?  This seems impossible).  Before jumping right in though, first allow me to backtrack:

When I was initially hired as a librarian, it was to the Children’s Department of the library’s main branch located in our city’s downtown.  I use the term “city” loosely here because I don’t want you to picture the budding metropolis of Chicago.  Imagine instead that a farming community and a trying-to-be-hip apartment complex had a baby.  That would be Hagerstown (I say this in love because I grew up here.  We just aren’t going to be the next biggest thing-if you get my drift).  Back to my story: This library recently received a MAJOR renovation.  We’re talking a Joan Rivers’ level of facelift here.  As I said, MAJOR.  Aesthetically stunning and modern, I’d now claim that it is literally the crown jewel of downtown.  Quite a boost and change for our little city!

During the library’s construction, one of the top 5 questions I got asked regarding it was this:  “How are you going to deal with the homeless population once the library reopens?”

Yep.  There’s no google searching out of that one.

Before I try to offer up an answer, let me clarify something.  Preaching an ideal from a soapbox (or from behind a keyboard) is infinitely easier than trying to live it out in the trenches.  This I realize.  I don’t want you to think that by writing this blog I am setting myself up as the beacon of all truth and right (My parents are rolling on the ground laughing hysterically right now).  Puh-leaze.  Just because I have these ideas doesn’t mean I am majestically or perfectly implementing them in my daily life like a mini Pope Francis.  Honestly, none of us are doing everything we can.  But I feel the rub, the desire, to want to do better (as many of us do).  And I know that putting our good plans down on paper doesn’t magically transform lives in the real world.  However, in the small chance it could cause a handful of people to reevaluate their unplumbed beliefs or practices, we’ll plow on.

I’ve been lucky enough to have several life experiences inform my original view of the “homeless population.”  And because the librarian in me likes a little organization (a la dewey decimal), we’ll do this in chronological order starting with college (and no, this story has nothing to do with stealing a car).  Our (Christian) university had a weekend ministry opportunity called “Open Airs.”  This involved funneling a bunch of eager students into a couple of vans and carting them off to the nearest city (which was either Dayton or Columbus, I can’t remember).  Then we would descend upon said city for a couple of hours to “spread the Word” with the enthusiasm of a dog attacking a squeaky toy.  Now listen, I love Jesus.  If you’ve ever read this blog before, that news should NOT come as a surprise.  But I’m not keen on hitting someone over the head with my Lord and Savior right after we’ve shaken hands for the first time.  That’s disconcerting.  I’m more the Young Life approach: “Earn the right to be heard.”  Which meant that when I approached people on those chilly nights in the city, we talked life.  Big questions.  All that philosophical junk you just couldn’t get enough of during college.  And I would say 4 out of 5 people that I connected with on those evenings were (to use the most generic description) homeless.  But that doesn’t even begin to sum up WHO these people were.  I was amazed time and time again by their brilliant minds, the sharp conversation.  I was NEVER approached for money or food (although we sometimes gave away both); I believe by looking these men in the eye and speaking to them as equals it satisfied a greater, deeper need.  Treat a person decently and they tend to respond in kind (not 100% of the time obviously, but more often than we give them credit for); sometimes I wonder if our cities’ “outcasts” forget how to appropriately act like human beings because they haven’t been appropriately treated like human beings for so long.  Just a thought.

Significant life event number 2: Trick or treating at the hospital.  I’ve mentioned before that my husband, David, is a social worker (among other things: Lego Master, Music Aficionado, Bible Scholar, Political Mastermind and so on….).  Well, let me tell you a little about his place of employment.  It is called a hospital, but houses a nursing home and handles more long term care cases than your run of the mill hospital.  David works specifically on a brain injury floor.  People who have suffered strokes, multiple concussions, or drastic head injuries usually end up here.  Many of the events which would lead a person to be a patient on this floor (or within this hospital as a whole) tend to be debilitating, life and personality altering things.  If someone’s brain has been messed with, it can leave their day to day behavior being pretty unpredictable.  So when David suggested we bring Elijah (our first and ONLY child as of now) to trick or treat at his hospital, I clenched my jaw and thought, “This will be nerve wracking and awkward.”  But, per usual, I was wrong.  I mean Elijah obviously had his questions: “Why can’t she talk?”  “Why does he live in the hospital and not with his family?”  “Will she ever get better?”  But it gave our family a chance to dialogue in simple terms about how we can love people in other life or health circumstances than our own.  And when the sweet lady, bed-bound and covered in tubes, called Elijah an “angel”--I about reached my emotional limit for the night.  

These are the people I root for.  Ever since we started our adoption process, I’ve been 100% on the underdog and outcast train.  Why then do I drag my feet and hesitate to interact with “outsiders”?  Here’s an idea: Our encounters with people in these situations cause us discomfort because their “issues” are often so evident.  Their stuff is right out there in the open.  From the sad story on the sharpie scrawled sign of the wandering veteran, to the swollen belly and hopeless eyes of the orphan, to the confused ramblings of a hospital patient--we can immediately see what’s “wrong” with these people.  Those of us who are used to operating appropriately within “normal” society are *considerably* better at hiding our issues.  It’s more comfortable if I don’t know TOO much about you because that could be awkward.  Is this mindset any healthier or better than just putting all your weirdness on the table right up front?  It’s hard to say (though admittedly, I probably fall more within the second camp), but using someone’s differences as an excuse to deny them kindness is WRONG.  Some would argue that kind of humane response (specifically involving personal contact and care) must be earned and I guess in the most extreme cases I would agree (serious, violent instances).  But 99.9% of the time, people deserve the right to be treated well and have access to a few simple pleasures.  It is simple to give a bed-bound patient the joy of seeing your child.  It is simple to be a listening ear for the difficult teenager.  It is simple for libraries to provide newspapers and computer time for the flighty drifter.  The task itself is simple, but let’s not fool ourselves by claiming any of those things are easy.  Actually making good on these best intentions is stinking hard; it goes against our natural inclinations to stay within our comfort zone.  But for the isolated ones blessed because of our mild discomfort, we’ll never fathom just how worthwhile it was.

Read the story behind this amazing moment here.

Last but not least: Making it personal.  Often disadvantaged communities are addressed as a whole and not as individual persons.  The poor.  The homeless.  The special needs students.  This makes it easier for the rest of us “normal” folks to “other” these people groups.  They are not like us.  Add that to a lack of information concerning these communities and it can result in us sitting on a judgmental high horse.  Trust me, I’ve been there and it is a LOOOOOONG way to fall (but I’m glad I did).  When you have zero investment in a group of people, it is easy to stand back and point the finger.  Judge first and then (maybe) love later (Jesus is shaking his fist in frustration).  But when you know someone’s story, things get murkier--less black and white.  The faceless population of “the poor” comes into focus after a close friend goes bankrupt.  And “the homeless” represents something completely different for David and I, who dearly love someone who has spent over a year wandering between several less-than-optimal living situations.  This changes things.  Now we don’t merely see addicts or drifters, we see sons and daughters.  Try to watch “The Pursuit of Happyness” and not feel empathy for the main character (I love you, Will Smith!).  Every homeless person has a story….and it might involve laziness or bad decisions, but it also might involve sickness or a broken heart.  Or their story may be a jumble of the good, bad, happy, and sad.  But that sounds a lot like my own story too.

So, back to the original question: “How are you going to deal with the homeless population once the library reopens?”

My answer is this: I (and the rest of our amazing library staff) hope to “deal” with the homeless population in the exact same way I (we) attempt to deal with every other person who walks through our doors.  With dignity, kindness, and respect (although, God knows I have my days).  There’s no need to go overboard or be stupid about it, like asking the closest vagrant to hang onto your safety deposit box keys while babysitting your kids.  Not a great idea.  But avoiding eye contact like you’re escaping Medusa or clutching your purse to your chest football-style is probably not necessary either.  Could we come to a middle ground, a cautious kindness?  We don’t have to be best friends with the guy collecting change at the corner, but we could look him in the eye and say “Hello!”  Please note: I mentioned before that while the task *may* be simple, it wouldn’t always be easy for us.  A little nudge out of our comfort zones now and again is a good thing, a growing thing (don’t roll your eyes at me!).  Because if between driving our fancy cars and occupying our safe homes, we become overly nervous about encountering people with “obvious problems” in public places--we should stop going out at all.  In fact, we should start taking down the mirrors in our houses as well.  Because, I guarantee, that person reflected back at us has a few problems of their own.

Yep, that's me....being problematic :).