Last week the Bush administration touted that there was a 30 percent drop from 2005 to 2007 in the number of "chronically homeless" people in the nation, down from 175,914 to 123,833. That's good news, but not exactly all of the news.
According to the Department of Housing and Urban Development, a person classified as "chronically homeless" is "an unaccompanied disabled individual who has been continuously homeless for over one year." Nevertheless, critics are mocking the government's gloating, because "chronically homeless" represents less than one-fifth of the total homeless population – which is roughly 744,000. (California has the greatest number of homeless – about 170,000, followed by New York, Florida, Texas and Georgia.) As most might assume, a majority are single. But what many might not realize is that 41 percent are families. Particularly troubling is the high number of children.
I have my differences with the Bush administration, but credit needs to be given where credit is due. Progress is progress. If the numbers aren't inflated, it is a step in the right direction that 50,000 more "chronically homeless" are off the streets, out of shelters and in secure environments. In particular, the executive director of the United States Interagency Council on Homelessness, Philip Mangano, is to be commended for providing some good leadership to communities across the country by offering suggestions and encouraging them to develop plans to reduce homelessness, often the Housing First model. Also helpful are community outreaches by Rolling Thunder and other groups which are extending their helping hands to homeless veterans. There really are some amazing stories about how communities, civic organizations and churches have come together with the goal of eliminating chronic homelessness.
I'm not writing this column with the audacity that I can solve homelessness with some one-size-fits-all solution. I'm writing it because I thought the other day, even though Congress left on a five-week hiatus without dealing with our energy (gas) crisis, I want to encourage Americans to not follow suit and turn a blind eye to the needs of others around us – even if on a vacationor when it might not be convenient. I realize that caring for the homeless in particular can often be complicated, and we should never jeopardize our safety in doing so. But we can't allow complications or even callousness to stop our compassion. Let me give you a recent example how my familywas recently reminded of that.
Traveling up the coast of California for our summer vacation, we stayed near the seaside amusement park Santa Cruz's Beach and Boardwalk. We were really excited about spending a few days there with our 6-year-old twins.
After dinner one evening, we began to walk back to our hotel. On our way we passed three apparently homeless men. One of them said as he looked at the kids, "Hey, wait a minute. I have something for you." We stopped cautiously, as our kids know not to receive things from strangers. Looking at the man, I saw warmth in his eyes so we walked over to him. The man searched his pockets while saying that he had some coupons to ride the rides. But after a few minutes of rummaging around his clothing and wallet, he came up empty-handed. Still, I thanked him for his offer, and we walked on.
A short distance later our kids began to ask, "Who was he? Why was he so dirty? Why was he living on the street?" What followed was a good, age-oriented family discussion about homelessness. There was something different about this homeless man. In even our brief encounter, we sensed that he had a kind heart and a genuinely grateful attitude about life and others.
Back at the hotel, our daughter Danilee said that she would like to draw a picture and give it to this man we met. But it was too dark and late to be running around the city looking for him on the streets. So my wife Gena replied to her, "Sweetheart, you can draw him one in the morning," thinking like most parents that she would likely just forget by morning. When we went to bed that night, we prayed together as we always do, and our kids prayed for this man we met.
The next morning we were on our way to a restaurant for breakfast. As we passed many people on the sidewalk, to our surprise one of them was the homeless gentleman we met the night before. His eyes and gentle smile clearly showed that he remembered us. And we began to think about how Danilee wanted to draw him a picture (which we didn't have) – and how a small act of kindness goes a long way and that these things sometimes happen for a reason. We also thought about how our kids learn from us how to treat others, even those upon whom society generally frowns or ignores. Gena later told me she prayed silently, "Oh Lord, give us one more chance to give him that picture."
At the restaurant, the waitress brought my kids some crayons and paper so they could finally draw the pictures they wanted to give to this stranger. Danilee drew two beautiful angels overlooking her and this man walking side by side. And our son Dakota drew three crosses. When they completed the pictures, they put them in their fanny packs and then asked us if we could buy him a breakfast – which we did even though we had no idea if we would even see him again. Though it was one of the hottest days on record, we carried this breakfast with us for hours, continually looking for this sojourner as we went about another vacation day. But there was no sign of him anywhere. The day and evening came and went. We had only one more chance to meet him in the morning before we left Santa Cruz.
Walking to the same restaurant for breakfast, we didn't see him anywhere. As we left the restaurant, however, Gena looked across the street. Up ahead about 50 yards, she noticed two men walking around a corner near a covered bus stop. As we got closer, a familiar face came into view and we all began to smile. We told him that we'd been looking for him for two days. The kids told him about the breakfast that never made it to him the day before, and that we brought him some iced tea on that day. Then they pulled out the pictures they made for him. We could all see how they truly touched his heart, as he repeatedly thanked the kids for their kindness. He told them how he had been in Santa Cruz since he was 3 years old, and that he was now 35.
For those few moments time seemed to just stand still. As he stared with his piercing blue eyes and talked to us, we simply seemed to forget about all those complicated matters and issues that often surround homelessness. Instead, we were just humans showing cordial concern and compassion for one another.
What happened last still sends shivers up my spine. Without recognizing who I was, he stuck out his hand and respectfully introduced himself, "My name is Alan." His few words nearly took our breath away because Gena's father's name was also Alan, and he also had a very similar gentle and kind demeanor, but her father had passed away six months earlier and was still so dearly missed. Just before we walked away, Dakota handed him the iced tea we brought. After he sipped it, he exclaimed, "Aaahhh. Sweet tea – I lovesweet tea!" To which Gena softly replied, "So did my dad."
God spoke to us that early summer day. Heaven sent a big sign through what might seem like a relatively small encounter to many others. But it can be a reminder to us all – one that's also spelled out in the Good Book, "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it."
A story for the heart
A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.
Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.
She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, but he was too busy at this moment. Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing. She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!
'And what do you want?' the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of
voice. I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't seen in ages,' he said without waiting for a reply to his question.
'Well, I want to talk to you about my brother,' Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone. 'He's really, really sick...and I want to buy a miracle.'
'I beg your pardon?' said the pharmacist.
'His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now So how much does a miracle cost?'
'We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you,' the pharmacist said, softening a little.
'Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get
the rest. Just tell me ho w much it costs.'
The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man He stooped down and asked the little girl, 'What kind of a miracle does your brother need?'
' I don't know,' Tess replied with her eyes welling up. I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation. But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money.'
'How much do you have?' asked the man from Chicago 'One dollar
and eleven cents,' Tess answered barely audibly.
'And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.'
'Well, what a coincidence,' smiled the man. 'A dollar and eleven cents---the exact price of a miracle for little brothers. '
He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said 'Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need.'
That well dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.
Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.
'That surgery,' her Mom whispered. 'was a real miracle. I wonder how
much it would have cost?'
Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost..one dollar and eleven cents....plus the faith of a little child.
In our lives, we never know how many miracles we will need. A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law.
Everything you need to know about Feed The Children
Columbine Redemption
"My daughter's death will not be in vain. The young people of this country will not allow that to happen." Darrell Scott
A Father's Plea to our Nation by Darrell Scott
Since the dawn of creation there have been both good and evil in the hearts of men and of women. We all contain the seeds of kindness or the seeds of violence. The death of my wonderful daughter Rachel Joy Scott, and the deaths of the heroic teacher and the other children who died, must not be in vain. Their blood cries out for answers.
The first recorded act of violence was when Cain slew his brother Abel out in the field. The villain was not the club he used. Neither was it the NCA - The National Club Association. The true killer was Cain and the reason for the murder could only be found in Cain's heart....
"The Last Street Fighter" A book written by Minister Wayne Normis
The Last Street Fighter
Walk in the perilous shoes of a young street fighter who gets sucked into the whirlpool of urban gang violence at a time in history when fist fighting between youthful factions ends and the shooting begins. Caught up into the "sex, drugs, and rock and roll" culture, Wayne Normis, a member of a street gang of young white men, is singled out by three gangs and a drug dealer for destruction. As his life spirals out of control, Wayne is in a life and death struggle for survival, a battle he seems destined to lose. Through prayer, the grace of GOD, and multiple close calls he survived to share his testimony today.
Minister Wayne Normis, a former street fighter, is now a licensed lay minister. Honoring repeated invitations, he has told his personal story and preached in Juvenile Halls, Youth Correctional Facilities, and prisons throughout the State of California. He lives on the West Coast with his wife and family.
A website to help us feel a little closer to heaven... a gentle reminder that we are not alone. The words of the poem have inspired millions like you who share a similar mission. Thank you for visiting.
