Central Outreach & Advocacy Center

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I Believe

by Cat Perkins

I believe that hands can tell a story.
I believe that time is an enemy and a friend, but when living on the streets it can be elusive.
I believe that a moment to tell a story can be a precious gift.
I believe that doing paperwork feels unnecessarily formal after the harrowing experiences some of our guests endure.
I believe that free water can heal both physically and mentally.
I believe that it is worth making time for our guests to have a comfortable place to sit and think.
I believe that a brief hug or handshake is a thank you worth a thousand words.
I believe that happiness is like a spirit, fighting to be seen and felt everywhere.

There are many things that I have come to believe since I started working at the OAC. It is hard for me to pick a brief moment in time from this year to share. For me, when I think of serving at Central OAC, experiences flash in my mind from many different interactions. I see the faces of those I’ve worked with and hear their voices as they tell me their stories. The big focus for me is on guests and their stories. All people deserve to know they are seen, but when you are marked as a “person in need”, many people turn their backs, or avert their eyes. We all know this, and yet all of us find ourselves doing it in one way or another. That’s why it’s all about stories. When you see someone who looks like they may be in need, remind yourself that they have a story, and they are human. Everyone deserves to know that someone believes they have value.

I believe that everyone has value.

Make space for people in the ways you are comfortable, and then try to see if you can make space in ways that make you uncomfortable. The program I’ve been serving through, Young Adult Volunteers, focuses on being uncomfortable, and when we find ourselves getting comfortable, the program encourages us to find ways to be uncomfortable again. Not worrying about your own comfort can make you more able to fully care for other people. I have to admit I have found myself comfortable in some of the parts of my work at Central, but I assure you, there is a time every day, that I experience discomfort. I consider it a great gift. I take a deep breath, and then dive in. A little over a year ago, I never would have thought I could do that, let alone learn to love it. I have found a passion in this place, a passion that is shared by the staff and volunteers, a passion for seeing those who often go unseen, hearing the stories and understanding the humanity of those who are rejected or seen as valueless. Central OAC is about helping people to help themselves, building back some confidence, and showing people their inherent value along the way.

As I prepare to leave, I can only express my gratitude to Central OAC for teaching me how to have humility, compassion, patience, and kindness for everyone. I feel God in this place, every day.

Cat is our year-long intern and will have her last day with us at the end of July.  We’ve loved having her on board at the OAC, and we can’t wait to see what she’ll accomplish next!

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Called by Name

I walked through the art room and I heard, “Hey Ms. Kimberly. How are you today?” This happens almost every time I walk through the art room and it often happens when I walk through the lobby. Someone notices me and calls me by name. I like that feeling of knowing that someone knows my name and wants to say hello.

I am always impressed with April, Ahren, and Brenna because of how many of our guests’ names they know. They start talking about Mr. Smith or Ms. Brown and lately it seems that I ask a lot, “Which guest is that? What does he look like? Would I know her?” It bothers me a lot that I don’t know names like I used to when I provided direct services on a daily basis.

I’m pretty good with faces. I can look at a face and remember it, but not always the name.  Names don’t come easily for me unless it’s someone who has been around for a long time, someone I’ve specifically worked with, or an individual we’ve asked to leave the OAC.

Despite my shortcomings with remembering names, I think being called by name is important. When we can call a person by name it says that we paid attention when we first met. It shows that each person is a human being and deserves being remembered . It’s a form of respect and dignity, which are two of our staff values. I believe being called by name shows that we care.

I’m trying to figure out a way that I can learn and remember more of our guests’ names since I don’t provide direct service on a regular basis. It’s important to me because I like being called by name, and I think it shows that I care about the other person if I can return the favor. When we call a person by his or her name, I think it helps us to put our values at Central OAC to work:

We believe in meeting people where they are with patience and humility and treating each person with respect and dignity! I am grateful to be a part of this team who calls people by name.

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It Made a Difference to that One

by April Campbell

A couple of months ago, I went to my mailbox and found a small package. I opened it and inside was “The Starfish Story” (sometimes called The Star Thrower) and a bracelet that read “It made a difference to that one”. For those who may not know, the story is goes:

“One day, an old man was walking along a beach that was littered with thousands of starfish that had been washed ashore by the high tide. As he walked, he came upon a young boy who was eagerly throwing the starfish back into the ocean, one by one.

Puzzled, the man looked at the boy and asked what he was doing. Without looking up from his task, the boy simply replied, ‘I’m saving these starfish, Sir.’

The old man chuckled aloud, ‘Son, there are thousands of starfish and only one of you. What difference can you make?’

The boy picked up a starfish, gently tossed it into the water and turning to the man, said, “It made a difference to that one!’”

The package was sent by my mom who lives over 800 miles away. She knows that the work we do is hard. We work with guests who are marginalized and oppressed and face barriers everywhere they turn. We do our best to meet as many needs as possible, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. Sometimes I wonder if I really make a difference in the lives of the guest we serve. It can feel like an uphill battle with constant questions: “Did I listen enough?” “Was I patient enough?”, “Did I ask all the right questions to ensure the guest received everything they needed?”, “Could I have done more?” I leave every day with these thoughts, playing back my interactions with guests over and over again, and thinking how I could have said something differently or done something more.

Then there comes a day when I get a card in the mail that says how well a former guest is doing and thanks me for the time I spent with him or a voicemail from a guest who wants to tell me that he finally got his ID and thanks me for going through the process with him. That’s when I realize that as long as our guests and their needs are my number one priority, I am making a difference.

What my mom did not realize was that I had previously shared The Starfish Story  at one of our team meetings because it stuck with me. It was important to me to share it because I know that I am not the only one who leaves work some days and wonders if I really made a difference in a guest’s life. I truly believe that the work we do here is important and changes lives and although we are not a shelter or a long term program, and we may not see the impact our services have on our guests, I trust that our work is planting the seeds for something greater and planting seeds hope and empowerment within our guests.

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Not Pretending

by Cat Perkins

Patience.

Take a breath.

Listen.

Smile.

“How are you today?” I ask.

My heart pulls in dread and anticipation, hoping and praying that they feel ok.

Our guests are not pretenders. There is no reason to pretend when you live on the street, when your address is almost always at risk of changing.

“I’m okay today.”

“I’m really tired.”

“A little frustrated.”

“I’m hoping you can help me…”

These are a few common responses. There is no reason to pass the question by, when someone finally offers the space for release.

We recently changed our intake process, allowing fewer people in our doors at once, so there is now a bit more space for talking and sharing. When a guest sits down, there is no definitive time limit, no reason to rush them through, so they often begin to share. They tell me of what pains them, what makes their burden heavy, and many are very honest and tell me how they got to the place they’re in. The complicated part of homelessness is, that no matter how much you knew about your own situation when you were stable, many still find themselves outside one day, wondering how they ever got there.

My favorite moments are usually when I am interacting with someone kind and humble who is overjoyed by my ability to assist them and says yes to nearly everything they are offered, from clothing referrals to a toiletry kit. They are so thankful and show their gratitude through sheer excitement.  Of course it’s easy to find a mutual joy when working with these guests, but I’ve also found a joy in the more challenging guests, a joy that surprises me.

Normally, when a guest is getting frustrated or has an attitude, I worry that I won’t be able to help them, that they’ll say something that crosses the line or that they’ll refuse services before we finish working together, but I’ve discovered a gift of patience within me. When they become cross or agitated, I feel a wave of calm come over me and I lower my voice to speak in a soft, calm tone. I feel my words trying to gently work them down, into a place where they can hear me. Most of the time, this works, and usually causes a turning point in our interaction that surprises both me and the guest.  The communication after that is usually amazing, vulnerable, and even more special than with guests who politely come in and out. My goal with each guest is for them to know that someone cares: that someone thinks about them after they leave, someone prays that they are safe and well, or at least on the way to that.

Our guests are not pretenders. I don’t want to pretend to care. I want them to know that I do care.

Patience.

Take a breath.

Listen.

Smile.

“How are you today?” I ask.