There's a homeless guy in Hollywood, Michael, who parks himself on the sidewalk between Bank of America and Wells Fargo. Brilliant. Catch people coming out from picking up some cash and ask them if they have any spare to share. Today he asked a woman for some money and she said, "That's pathetic to say that to a woman." Don't think that thought hasn't occurred to me, too. A grown man who seems perfectly able-bodied asking me, a young woman, to provide for him. The first few times I met Michael he came across as personable and totally with it in the noggin. As the months have passed, though, I've noticed him talking to himself and ranting more and more. I don't know how to react to this particular issue. I don't like giving money because I don't know where it's going. I don't want my cash to disappear down someone's throat in the form of Jim Beam or Budweiser. I'll give to PATH, because they have proven programs that really lift people up if they are willing to be helped back to their feet. I've tried to assuage my discomfort and guilt on the street by always having McDonald's gift certificates on hand to give out because you can only get food with it and they won't give you any cash back. One time in Beverly Hills a 40-ish man, very nicely dressed and completely in his right mind asked me for money. I offered him a McDonald's certificate and he put up his hand and said "I only eat organic. You can write me a check to Whole Foods, though." Uh...no, I can't. Only in Beverly Hills.
I think we're called to help others, but how to figure out whether or not we're enabling someone? I've heard it said that Hollywood's homeless are the most well-fed around. There recently was a huge forum in Hollywood to discuss how the different agencies in the area can join together to alleviate the issue in new ways. I'm really curious to know the ideas that were bandied about. I can't imagine the problem ever being solved completely, especially since a large portion of people in this demographic suffer from mental illness. I'm glad there are people who have a real heart to combat homelessness. I feel myself pulled more towards other issues and I know it's okay that I don't try to bear the burden of everything around me that needs attention. Mercifully, I don't have to bear any burden at all without the Divine.
Speaking of the Divine, there are times when I feel like God speaks to me. Hold up, before you thinks I is crazy. Not speaks to me with actual words (I wish - wouldn't that be so much easier?), but through people and circumstances. I was on a tour of Gamble House in Pasadena last week, a really cool craftsman house built about 100 years ago. As we followed our informative guide into the kitchen, I saw a row of old cookbooks lined up on the counter. All of the books were from the 30's and 40's. And for some bizarre reason, smack dab in the middle of them was a book written in 1972: Hope for the Flowers. It's not at all kitchen-related, so I was surprised to see it there, especially since it's a story I'm really fond of that has brought me hope and comfort through the years. It's about a couple of caterpillars who eventually transform into butterflies...an inspirational metaphor for life. Who knows if this really was a message intended for me, but it gave me a little jolt of warmth...
The paradox of insular language
3 years ago
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Ted and I have talked about this same issue at length. A while back, we were approached in Home Depot parking lot by a young guy with a well-rehearsed story involving a pregnant wife and broken down car. He wanted a room to stay in for the night. He went to get his wife, who was at the Burger Kind, and we met him at a seedy hotel one block over to try to get them in a room. Turns out their "uncle" is also with them, so the room we end up getting is more expensive, and the motel owner told us later that we'd been had.
We felt weird about the whole situation, but our logic was that we wanted to err on the side of generosity. Looking back, we should have offered them a ride to a homeless shelter instead of possibly given them free shelter to get high for the night. I ended up writing a whole thing about it on our blog called "Uncomplicating Generosity." But it IS complicated, and you don't want to enable people.
And then what about the mentally ill? That's a big question for me. In Eagle Rock, there's an assisted living place for the homeless mentally unstable called Alma Lodge that we helped out at for a while. But it was hard. These people were highly entertaining (come on: the things that they'll say!), but I always left there feeling so sad, unsure if my presence there mattered or not. Anyway. Good post.
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