Why I Do What I Do, by Dweller Savanah

People ask me all the time why I work with the most vulnerable and at-risk people on the streets. Why wouldn’t I help the people on the edge of homelessness, so they don’t fall down to the bottom? Why wouldn’t I focus on those easiest to help and help as many people as I can?

My answer has a few different parts. If we are looking at a very shallow view of the issue, I would say: Money. To house one person on the streets costs very little money relative to the amount of money it takes to keep someone on the streets. If you add up every ER cost, every police encounter, every social service expense, the numbers are astounding. House this person and the numbers go down significantly.

But that’s not why I care. I care because when I am talking to a woman with matted hair, diseased feet and urine soaked blankets next to her, she teaches me something. She teaches me that she has a story and a life that I will never have. She teaches me something about strength and perseverance and stubbornness. She teaches me to appreciate life and appreciate something as simple as a new bra. She teaches me that it does not matter what a person looks like, smells like or talks like, it is something deep down that matters. She gives me this wisdom and I get the opportunity to dream with her about a better life. And that is something that no other job is quite like.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever sat down and talked to someone who has not been talked to in a very long time, but there’s some magic in it. Sometimes the person breaks out into long stories and speeches and everything they have ever memorized, sometimes, without a filter, they will tell you ever painful memory, every happy memory and every important moment in their lives. And sometimes, they won’t say anything at all…but their eyes light up and they stare and wonder why you are talking to them and why you care and wonder if you are just using them. This look should not be taken lightly. This look is often a skeptic, but sometimes filled with just enough hope that you know that this person in front of you is still in there; this person has a future and a past and their own dreams. I remember that each person on this earth is connected, each person has a story, each person has wishes and hopes and fears. And each person deserves the chance to live the life that they want to live.

There’s a man that I see quite frequently that other agencies say won’t talk and doesn’t want services. Maybe I am just a little more stubborn than they are. Day after day we go and see this man and slowly but surely he opens up to us. When he speaks, it is rapid with a thick accent a lot of hand signals. His big hands point to his head and say that he needs help. He points to his mouth and says he is hungry. We hand him a lunch and he slowly but surely puts each morsel in his mouth and points at his head again. He tells us he hears things and wants medication. We realize that the man who has been seen throwing things, screaming and sitting shirtless on the Boulevard, was simply afraid of what was going on in his head. This man couldn’t open up because he was afraid. While this man’s problems are much deeper than a single magic pill, it gives us a stepping stone to a more trusting relationship. People claim that those experiencing homelessness are lazy or don’t want help. I disagree. I think each person who sleeps on the ground wants to sleep in a real bed and have people around them that they love. The problem is that the world we live in is not set up for the masses. It is set up for the few people who are lucky enough to be born into privilege. It is set up so if you look a certain way, act a certain way or believe certain things, you are sent to the bottom. Someone has to speak up or nothing will change.

On a daily basis, I see injustices in the world. Why is it that if a white, rich man in Ohio doesn’t wake up one morning, everyone who is anyone seems to know and care. But if a man in LA who lives on the streets falls into his own deep sleep—no one cries. No one knows. It’s not news—it’s daily life. Too many people die in this world without a single real relationship. Too many people live without being heard. Too many people suffer in silence. I do what I do so at least someone hears. I do what I do because I want to hear. Sometimes all it takes is an ear to listen. Sometimes it takes more. But it is always worth the try.

A wise man once said, “It is the greatest of all mistakes to do nothing because you can do little.”

So I try to do a little.

Am I Still Working? - by Dweller Kendra

yes, i didn’t get fired for those of you wondering. i know it’s been a long time since i’ve posted anything about my friend’s place. it’s been busy and full of new opportunities to learn. my co-worker and i had the opportunity to take one of our young male clients to court for a loitering citation that he received from the cops while sitting in front of our gate-waiting for our agency to open. he was wanting to be first in line so that he could receive a shower, get some new clothes, and eat breakfast. he’s a brillant young man and was actually one of six who got the citation to show up and attempt to clear his ticket. luckily, when we got to the court office, we found out charges had never been filed. i wish you could have seen brian’s face as he fist-pumped me to show his excitement and relief about not having to  actually go to court.

another woman i have to mention is alina. alina and i have gotten to be really great friends. she is 19 and tougher than i would ever know how to be. alina has been on her own since she was 12 years old, and traveled to L.A. from New York City on her own. She has been in and out of school, and has been experimenting with meth while she stays on the streets of hollywood. she transitions in and out of shelters, but recently has been making HUGE changes for herself.she got a job at a local grocery store and started saving her money.she made a $100 deposit to the W.O.O.W program-a transitional housing program that encourages healthy behaviors to improve a person’s overall wellness.she has quit using meth.she has surrounded herself with people who want her to succeed.she has started to believe in herself.alina’s brother passed away when she was 10, and she asked me to come and be with her while she visited her brother’s grave for the very first time. i love the work i do-it’s meaningful, beautiful, and life-changing.

i have decided that this kind of work is what i want to do for the rest of my life. i’m not anxious or stressed about what this next year brings for me, because i know where i’m meant to be. God has given me a gift to work with young people experiencing homelessness and i see His loving care and grace every day when i talk and get to know them. i know for sure that i want to continue my education in social work and for now that’s enough..

and when i need a break, i get to walk these adorable little pups 

DOOR HOLLYWOOD 2013!

DOOR Hollywood Spring, Summer, and Fall 2013

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Do You Know What I Know?

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king, “Do you know what I know? In your palace wall mighty king, do you know what I know? A child, a child shivers in the cold. Let us bring him silver and gold.”

Lately, I’ve thought about the fanfare, the trumpeting angels, the spectacular birth announcement of Jesus Christ that terrified shepherds in the night.  The Star of Bethlehem, the Angel Gabriel, all of these fantastic signs.  It only now has dawned on me, that God had to do this, what with Jesus being born in the margins and laid in a feeding trough.  How else would anyone know that the words of ancient prophets were being fulfilled?  Had he been born in an earthly palace, there would have been parades and pomps and circumstances with all the trimmings.  But, Jesus was born in the outskirts, and the heavenly and celestial birth announcement was noticed by the poor shepherd boys, out of town.

 

And, then, as this song that we hear in every shopping mall in every city every December, the news of Jesus’ birth had to also come from the bottom up, in terms of human hierarchy.  The shepherd boy asks, “do you know what I know?” to a king.  And what’s amazing, in this song anyway, is that this earthly king listens.  Listens, and spreads the word of this upside-down Kingdom.

Listening.  Do you hear what I hear?  Do you see what I see?  Do you know what I know?  Maybe 2013 we can work on listening, that we might know what others know, see what others see, know how one another live.  There is a flurry of discussions right now, rightfully so, about gun controls and safety and mental health and why, why, why?  And I’m impressed, actually, that people are talking about having real, civil, discourse.  Talking about it, anyway.  But to do this, we will have to not only spout our mouths off, but we will have to listen.  2^nd Amendment die-hards need to listen, really listen, to the voices of people affected by gun tragedies.  Anti-gun folks ought to listen to histories of hunting families, especially those that do so with respect and a sense of balance.  Anglo folks, especially those who believe racism is over, ought to listen to what it means to not be white in today’s United States, from those who have to think about that day in and day out.  People adamantly against Mexican immigration ought to listen to a father doing anything he can to provide for his family, and try not to refer to him as an illegal alien.  Christians ought to listen to the ideas of Jews and Muslims, which doesn’t mean we adopt the same beliefs, but dear Lord, we should be able to listen.

 

I ought to listen to my wife, what it means to be the mother of two, more than I currently do.

Do you know what I know?  Do I know what you know?  Is there a place we can sit down and listen to one another?

Thankfully, Jesus has already set that table. 

Merry Christmas Everyone,

Matthew

Thoughts on Welcome, by Callie

Harvest Festival at the Community House!

For Thanksgiving our house hosted a party for the neighborhood and any friends and church people who wanted to come. We made tons of food and everyone brought goodies to share. We did a cake walk, doughnut eating competition (pictured above), and pinata! Lots of people showed up including some young folks who are involved in similar programs like DOOR around the city. We all had a wonderful time!

Getting to know the neighbors and neighborhood here around Gregory Ave. has been one of the most fulfilling and enjoyable aspects of my time here so far. From the moment I walked through the gate for the first time, our neighbors welcomed me with open arms and warm hearts. Our mission as Dwellers is to create a space of openness and hospitality for the people we live alongside. Since coming here, though, the sweet people of this neighborhood have done more to make me feel at home than I could ever do for them. I am so grateful for them and for the hard work and dedication of past Dwellers to make this place what it is and build the reputation of this house as a place of welcome. 

Posted on Nove

No Person is Illegal, by Savanah

To sum up the past two weeks in a blog post would be impossible. I felt so many emotions and saw so many things that it is overwhelming to go back and try to summarize. Here are a few things I got to experience:

I got the opportunity to go to Tuscon, AZ and meet young adults taking a year similar to mine from all over the country. I learned about the injustices that surround migrant workers; I visited Nogales and met people that had so little, but had such big hearts. I heard and attempted to understand a language so different from my own. I met a man running for his life from horror to hope and felt the pain when he felt he had nothing left. I met a girl my age who instead of getting the opportunity to go to college, works at a factory making items that I use and don’t appreciate. I watched as seventy people were chained together, belts and shoelaces were removed and they were walked to the front of a room to simultaneously hear their fate and sentence. I watched so many people in the past week ignore the problems that were in front of their faces, yet I also met a small few that were facing them head on. I cried, I laughed, I experienced and I changed. And I am still changing and still struggling.

One thing I have been having a lot of trouble with is trying to find love and compassion for people that honestly, I don’t want to love. People like the public defenders at Operation Streamline who ignored their clients, called them names like, “third to left” and used hand sanitizer after they even brushed by a client. People like the border control who racially profile, make sometimes questionable judgments and often do things that I do not believe I could ever do. People like the politicians that make laws like the Real ID Act that allows any law to be broken as long as it is for the cause of Homeland Security; even if it means making animal populations go extinct, tearing down national parks, and forcing migrants to go through the most horrendous parts of the desert just to make them struggle. I have a lot of trouble find love and respect and compassion for these people who seem so uncompassionate for others.

I am also struggling to ignore a terrible thing called “pity” and focus on a more beautiful thing called “compassion.” I have to stop thinking about the horrors I saw and the terrible things people have to live with and focus instead on fighting the injustices and also remembering the beautiful things others get to have that I don’t. I met a boy a little older than me in Nogales who had crossed the border many years ago and spent the majority of his teenage years in California. His family and friends are all there, yet he is here. I asked him why and he said, “Even though the city is ugly, it is still my home.” He understands the horrible things that go on and many of the difficult conditions that he has to live in, but he embraces it because he sees the beauty in living in a city with so much culture, fearlessness and hope. He sees potential in his city. And that is why he doesn’t need my pity, but he may like some compassion.

I have given you, reading this, a lot of vague details of my trip and not many concrete facts or stories. That is for a purpose. I think you have to see it for yourself and experience it for yourself to understand. I could write of injustices here and you may feel pity, but that’s not what people anywhere want. That’s not what I want for people everywhere. We all want respect. That is what everyone wants. We want change. But I am struggling with finding where exactly this change and respect can come from. I found so many similarities between the undocumented workers and the homeless population I work with every day. The fear (Border Control or LAPD), the lack of a home, the lack of respect, the lack of a voice, the feeling of unworthiness. I am not asking anyone who reads this to go advocate, or donate money, or spend a year serving or feel obligated to do anything. What I ask of each of you is to find a little love and respect in your life to people or a person that you have trouble loving and respecting. If that means undocumented immigrants, fine. If that means someone who is homeless, fine. If that means someone of a different race, religion, sexual orientation, or culture, fine. If that means someone with a mental, substance, physical or emotional disability or illness, fine. Just find a person that is hard to love and love them. That is what I ask. And that is what I learned this week. And am still learning.

The Center at Blessed Sacrament, by Rena

The Center at Blessed Sacrament

I love The Center at Blessed Sacrament (formerly known as Social Services at Blessed Sacrament before the name change last week). Last Thursday we held a fundraiser for The Center where supporters from across Los Angeles gathered together to share stories, eat hors d’oeuvres, munch on brownies that I made in the ovens at the parish building earlier in the day, and write a check to the organization where I’m a proud member of the staff.

I’ve had the pleasure of leading a few groups since my last blog post and I’m still in the process of training to be a regular leader of the Morning Mindset group. Last Friday, I co-led a group titled Weekly Wrap Up where we circled the room and discussed our highs and lows of the week. Participants who are homeless exchanged information with recently housed individuals giving advice about finding housing and jobs and I even witnessed the birth of a new friendship between two participants who realized similarities and agreed to meet up outside of the Center to hang out!

This past week I also witnessed my first serious altercation at the workplace that resulted in two participants being suspended from the Center for the week because of a minor fight that took place in the building.  Luckily, no one was hurt and I even had the chance to talk to a young woman, who I will call Daisy, who was somewhat involved in the event.  Daisy is 23 and is staying occasionally on the streets or crashing at friends’ places.  She does have a source of income and has mentioned a more permanent housing situation that seems promising. Daisy attends the women’s group and the art and imagination group, among others. Recently she’s received two tickets for sleeping on the sidewalks during the day while watching her friends’ belongings. I haven’t seen Daisy in over a week and I hope that means she’s been busy at work – regardless, prayers for this young woman would be much appreciated. The women that visit The Center at Blessed Sacrament are few and far between and those that are my age are almost non-existent. It has been exciting to see Daisy walk through our doors and I hope that I can touch her life in some way in the future and allow her touch mine as well.

In the past several weeks as a community we have gone on several adventures outside of our workweek!  We have spent a weekend on an all-church retreat at Forest Home where we heard truth from Jim Edwards, spent an afternoon zip lining and rock wall climbing, and strengthened the relationships within our own house community. We’ve also attended a couple free comedy shows, a play titled The King of the Desert, were welcomed into several homes for dinners and desserts, and were part of a live audience for the Conan show. We may be living simply in the land of fame and fortune on our tight budget, but we are definitely afforded many opportunities by so many generous people in this community and beyond.