62, homeless, and nobody to talk to
| By John Azoni - Jan 13, 2010 12:34:09 PM ET |
It's been a little while since I wrote about any recent experiences from doing outreach to the homeless in Detroit. So here is one that stands out:
I was at Salvation Army shelter last week with a couple of our other outreach staff, assessing individuals in the shelter for an opportunity to participate in a unique job program through Goodwill Industries of Greater Detroit. I sat down with a woman who was older than most, about 62, disabled, and fresh out of detox. The conversation didn't get very far before I determined she was ineligible for this particular opportunity due to the fact that she was disabled, but I sat and listened to her for about 15 minutes regardless.
I could sense that she was hurting, and she told me she didn't have anyone to talk to. She's been an alcoholic her whole life, inherited from her mother who was also an alcoholic. At times she had been addicted to both drugs and alcohol, and experienced the darkness that comes along with those habits. She entered detox at Salvation Army after her addiction to alcohol led her into homelessness. She was such a sweet lady, and considered her time at Salvation Army to be a time when God wanted to use her despite the discomfort of the shelter environment. She told me about how she had become the peacemaker at the shelter, quieting arguments and being a source of comfort and support for one particular woman there.
I could tell as she was talking and tearing up that she had a lot on her mind; a lot she hadn't yet dealt with from her past and present. I'm no counselor, nor do I pretend to be. But when she told me that I was the first person she had really opened up to since entering the shelter, I felt like I was in the right place.
Often times when doing outreach I have my head stuck in the clouds of outcomes. It's as though assessing and truly listening are two completely different parts of my brain that can't function at the same time. But it was refreshing to get a chance to just sit and listen, and hear her story. In fact, it was pretty humbling.
The conversation was short and ended with her realizing she needed to sit down with her case manager at the shelter, and talk through some of her issues. She happened to have the flu that day, and extended to me the hand she had been holding her snotty tissue in. I shook it against my better judgement, not wanting to offend, and felt thankful that for every person who works at United Way for Southeastern Michigan, there are about twice as many bottles of hand sanitizer around the office.
I was at Salvation Army shelter last week with a couple of our other outreach staff, assessing individuals in the shelter for an opportunity to participate in a unique job program through Goodwill Industries of Greater Detroit. I sat down with a woman who was older than most, about 62, disabled, and fresh out of detox. The conversation didn't get very far before I determined she was ineligible for this particular opportunity due to the fact that she was disabled, but I sat and listened to her for about 15 minutes regardless.
I could sense that she was hurting, and she told me she didn't have anyone to talk to. She's been an alcoholic her whole life, inherited from her mother who was also an alcoholic. At times she had been addicted to both drugs and alcohol, and experienced the darkness that comes along with those habits. She entered detox at Salvation Army after her addiction to alcohol led her into homelessness. She was such a sweet lady, and considered her time at Salvation Army to be a time when God wanted to use her despite the discomfort of the shelter environment. She told me about how she had become the peacemaker at the shelter, quieting arguments and being a source of comfort and support for one particular woman there.
I could tell as she was talking and tearing up that she had a lot on her mind; a lot she hadn't yet dealt with from her past and present. I'm no counselor, nor do I pretend to be. But when she told me that I was the first person she had really opened up to since entering the shelter, I felt like I was in the right place.
Often times when doing outreach I have my head stuck in the clouds of outcomes. It's as though assessing and truly listening are two completely different parts of my brain that can't function at the same time. But it was refreshing to get a chance to just sit and listen, and hear her story. In fact, it was pretty humbling.
The conversation was short and ended with her realizing she needed to sit down with her case manager at the shelter, and talk through some of her issues. She happened to have the flu that day, and extended to me the hand she had been holding her snotty tissue in. I shook it against my better judgement, not wanting to offend, and felt thankful that for every person who works at United Way for Southeastern Michigan, there are about twice as many bottles of hand sanitizer around the office.
Comments are closed for this post.