Saturday, April 17, 2010

Black Boots

I was at work one weekend when a former client dropped in. Nida (not her real name) was a chronically homeless addict with two sons in prison, and her time with my program was the first time that she was truly serious about her recovery. She has an incredibly humble spirit, works extremely hard, and its precious to be with her as she discovers this world sober. It's much the way I imagine a parent would feel to watch their children make discoveries.

She and I were catching up on her job and her upcoming move from transitional housing into her own apartment when a yellow-shirted woman approached me for a pair of shoes from the downstairs clothing room. It was a Saturday, and I don't have access to that room on Saturdays. I told Yellow-Shirt as much, and she lamented that she needed them for work that evening. After several minutes of silence, Nida pointed out, "You know, you could get pair of black shoes at Wal-Mart*...it'll only take one bus ticket to get there." A few seconds of silence streched between us as Nida studied Yellow-Shirt's face. "You don't have it, do you?" Yellow-Shirt shook her head. "I can see how bad you want this; I can see it on your face," Nida said, knowing from years on the homeless street. "If I give you $10, will you take it to the store and get shoes?" Yellow-Shirt said yes, and silence fell as Nida weighed the decision. To take the heat off her, I said, "Let me check the back room," referring to a small closet on our floor with toiletry items and socks and underwear.

I knew there weren't any shoes back there, and if there were, they wouldn't be black, but I was absolutely blown away by the "Pay it Forward" gesture that Nida was making. I know she was thinking about people who had helped her when she was struggling, and she may have been making an amend for those she hadn't helped when she was using drugs. I opened the door to the closet and turned on the light. Chills covered me as I spotted one pair of shoes on the low shelf - black boots. I flipped them over to see the size, and they were just right.

Another good thing about the job: miracles happen everyday, and sometimes I get to be present to them.

Epilogue - I still don't know Yellow-Shirt's name, but the shoes are very comfortable and exactly right for the job. She enjoys it and is doing well in it, and she is interviewing for a second job in a few days.

*In no way is this an endorsement of Wal-Mart. I'm just sayin'.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Miss Sarah, why me?

One of the religious communities in town offers weekends of reflection and rejuvenation for homeless people in recovery or with mental illness. The folks that go on this weekend are typically chronically homeless and usually forgotten, or when they're considered, it's with distain. During one of these weekend, there are different activities set up to encourage them to think and reflect on the current state of their lives and what they want, as well as have an opportunity to grow spiritually. Every single person to have gone to this event returns with positive feedback and having gotten something from it, if only to feel unconditional love for the first time in their lives.

Several weeks ago, I told one of my clients, Dinky (name has been changed), about the weekend, and because we trust each other, he signed up. As the time has approached, however, he's become more and more anxious about going. Last week, he said he was mostly just confused but by this afternoon, he was truly upset. He couldn't sleep this week and he had a headache. He said, "Miss Sarah, I know this is a good weekend and you recommended me and all, but what if I do something wrong? I've never done anything like this before." He thought for several seconds, and then sat back in his chair. "I just don't know why you recommended me for this. Why me?"

My heart absolutely broke. Dinky is one of the most thoughtful, considerate and honest clients I have. He works hard to know the right thing to do and does his best to do it, even when he doesn't want to, even though he's living on the street. I told him all of this, and as I went on, his body lifted incrementally. By the time I finished, he said, "Really? I'm all of those things?" I assured him he was and that I had faith in his ability. He nodded, a big smile on his face, and said, "Okay."

One of the most special things about my job is that I get to love people. My hope is that the love I show to them, they show to other people.