Central Outreach & Advocacy Center

homeless

By

We All Have a Story

by Brenna Lakeson

(TW: abuse, addiction, mental illness)

Each day, dozens of guests come to the OAC. Some of them we know well and others are just passing through. Sometimes, as we do case management with a guest, we get glimpses into their lives as they tell us about their struggles. It can be a heavy task to sit with someone and hear their story.

This past month, it seems as though we’ve had quite a few guests come through the OAC who are struggling with different types of traumatic events, moreso than usual. Sometimes, we’re equipped to help with these situations and, other times, all we can do is listen. It can be difficult to know that the most you can do for someone is hold space for their story, but that can make all the difference.

Recently, a guest came to our door with a particularly heartbreaking story. We had never met this guest before, but we took the time to listen to what they had to say. While I can’t share much about their story due to their safety, I do want to tell you a little bit about them. They were running from someone dangerous, who had had control over them for years, and they were struggling to get anyone to believe their story. We sat with them, got details of their situation, and called the right people to get them started with some assistance. As the guest got ready to leave, they began to cry, telling us that we were the first to take them seriously. “You’re the first one to actually do anything to help me,” they said. It felt like we hadn’t physically done much, but, for this guest, saying “I believe you” lifted a huge weight off of them.

Earlier this week, another guest came in for help with ID. While working with a case manager, he expressed a desire to get into a detox program. He’d been struggling with addiction on and off for years and told his case manager that he was finally ready to get clean. Getting and staying clean on the street can be incredibly hard, so the courage and determination that it took for him to reach out for help was admirable. We were able to get him started with the intake process for a substance abuse treatment program. He was excited and relieved to finally have a plan in place.

Last week, a guest came into our center for the first time. He was staying at a shelter and needed an ID in order to continue staying there. As he sat with his case manager, he wiggled his legs and looked around nervously. It was clear that he was anxious. His case manager finished applying for his birth certificate and Social Security card, so he took his things and left. Minutes later, though, our security guard came back into the lobby to tell us that this same guest was having a mental health crisis. We brought him back into the center and called 9-1-1. A staff member did some breathing exercises with him as we waited for the Grady Mental Health Team to arrive. They were able to take him to the hospital to get the help he needed. He thanked us for our help as he got into the van. It was brave of him to reach out for help in such a hard moment.

Our guests deal with so much on a daily basis, and, often, they just want a listening ear: someone to take them seriously, hear their concerns, and assist them in getting the help they need. While we are not law enforcement, EMTs, or DFCS, we can advocate for our guests by helping them reach out to the right people. Each guest has a story. We do our best each day to hear them, see them, and be with them.

By

Pandemic While Homeless

by Kimberly Parker

“You Ever Think We’d See Something Like This?”

How many times in the last week or so have you seen messages like these:

“The ‘Whatever Business’ is committed to the safety, health and welfare of our staff, volunteers, and clients/members/patrons/etc. at all times. We are taking serious measures to do our part to flatten the curve of transmission of COVID-19.” 

“Based on current CDC recommendations in response to COVID-19, as of March ???, 2020, the ‘Whatever Business’ will be closed until at least March 30, 2020. We will continue to evaluate the situation and make necessary decisions based on recommendations given by trusted organizations such as the CDC.” 

It seems like everything is closing. Some of the places where we would normally go to deal with stress and stay healthy are closed: gyms, libraries, movie theaters. The list goes on and on. I get it, but gosh it’s hard! When I got word yesterday that the golf course where I try to play once a week was closing, I about lost my *#$@&! It’s outdoors! A person can be totally by themselves if they want to. Come on! Again, I get it, but it’s so hard.

When I start to have these thoughts or when I start to cry at the smallest of inconveniences, I try to think about the many people experiencing homelessness and what they’re going through right now. Things are different for them also. They are at a disadvantage that many of us can’t begin to relate to. No home in which to isolate themselves. No healthcare coverage. No easy access to soap or water or hand sanitizer. And some of the service providers are closed or have limited their services, including Central OAC.

The decisions that I’ve had to make recently have been some of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made as a leader. I’ve tried to hold our guests, volunteers, and staff in the front of my mind through  each decision, wanting to make sure we have as safe of an environment as possible for everyone. My first decision was to ask our volunteers to suspend their time with Central OAC. The next decision was to determine that we would suspend services to our guests except for allowing them to check mail twice a week (Tuesday and Thursday, 10 am – 12 pm). Two staff members work these shifts rather than all four of us. Our security guard is only allowing three people in at a time with plenty of distance between each.

Yesterday was our first day of this new schedule. We had about 50 people come through the doors during the two hour shift. They picked up checks, food stamp cards, medication, debit cards – items that are very important. We had one guest come in who had been waiting on his birth certificate and Social Security card to arrive so that he could go obtain his Georgia ID. We were able to give him the voucher to cover the cost of the ID. He was so excited! These items are important. And every guest yesterday was grateful!

My heart hurts that we are limited in what we can safely provide right now. My heart hurts for the many who are experiencing homelessness. I am so grateful for the outreach teams who are still out on the street, tending to those who are most vulnerable. Central OAC asks that you pray for people experiencing homelessness and pray for those who are continuing to serve them in some capacity. I hope and pray we can keep doing what we are doing for as long as possible during this global health crisis.

Be well!

-Kimberly

 

By

Wait Your Turn

by Chattrelle Gillyard

I often wonder what it’s like to be a guest at the OAC:

To come through the door with nothing but faith and hope that I might gain documents to get a Georgia ID.

To not know where my next meal is coming from.

To be unsure about where I will lay my head on a daily basis.

To be afraid to lay down at night, putting myself at risk of burglary and possibly even assault.

To be afraid to walk the streets because I might be stopped by a police officer with no way of identifying myself.

I could never imagine walking in the shoes of the guests we serve at the OAC. I’ve experienced homelessness on two occasions in my life but never to the extent of our guests.

I recently encountered a guest who described experiencing homelessness as constantly standing in line and hoping that at the end of the line he’ll receive some sort of help. Imagine standing in a line beginning at 6:00 am with no idea of whether or not what you need will be on the other side. I barely have enough patience to stand in line for mundane things like fast food or at Kroger. Yet, our guest do it nearly every day, whether it’s for an ID, a meal, shelter, or clothing, without any hesitation and usually a humble spirit.

My first ten months at the OAC have humbled me in ways I could have never imagined. Our guests have taught me to find joy in the midst of a storm, how to be patient in chaos, and how to have hope in tribulation. Sometimes, you have to be patient, trust standing in line, and wait your turn.

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It’s a Start

by Louden Young

“It’s a start.”  These were some of the last words I said to the very first guest I worked with at the OAC.  We had spent almost an hour working through what was needed to procure a state-issued ID. He had no documentation; his previous ID, birth certificate, Social Security card, and the rest of his wallet had been taken from him some weeks prior to walking through our doors.  He was patient with me as I fingered my way down the yes/no flowchart which guides volunteers as to what paperwork would be required by the Department of Driver Services. Together, we figured out that he would need a birth certificate, and proof of his Social Security number.  Fortunately, he was in the Selective Service registry, which could serve as proof of his Social Security number. Next, we filled out all of the paperwork the state of New Jersey requires for a copy of his birth certificate, and I let him know about the thirty day turnaround time expected with that request.  Though his initial reaction revealed some frustration for the delay this would put on his plans, he thanked me as he left. I took a moment and a breath, relieved to have successfully seen my first guest on my own. “It’s a start,” I thought to myself.

I often find myself in wonder, at how each day at Central OAC feels so familiar and yet, at the same time, radically new.  I arrange the chairs in the lobby in the same configuration each morning; I fill the water cooler with four scoops of ice from the ice maker; the staff and volunteers meet before the doors open to share joys and concerns and a moment of prayer, every morning.  The intake paperwork is the same, most of the questions we ask the guests are the same, our partner agencies are the same, and the processes we help our guests navigate rarely ever change. In the midst though, the Spirit moves and new mercies come each day. Many of the guests are new to our agency when they walk through the doors, bringing their lives in stories and sometimes, in plastic garbage bags or worn out suitcases.  The weather is different each day, and our guests often bear the signs of its indifference to their exposure to it. The few hours they spend in the OAC often aren’t enough to dry out their clothes or warm the cold from their bones. But we serve them as best as we can; we listen to their stories, and we provide for their needs in that moment, whether it be help obtaining an ID, a referral to one of our partners for clothing, food, healthcare, or job placement, a verification letter for another helping agency, or just a safe space where they can find rest, even if only for a minute.  There isn’t much we can do once they leave our doors, and so we provide them with hygiene items and a small snack to take with them. It’s not much. But it’s a start.

Just last week, the young man I helped that first day on my own came to pick up his birth certificate and an ID voucher.  I recognized him in the lobby and made sure to say hello. He said he finally had everything he needed and was going to go today to get his ID.  I let him know how happy I was for him. He told me that he had a job lined up and a lead on an apartment, and that this ID was the last piece of the puzzle.  He said, “This is the beginning, man.” Of course he is right. My heart is only beginning to make space for all of the guests I meet each morning, and for the volunteers and staff who I have come to admire.  The Spirit is only beginning to move in me as I bear witness to its work in the caring and dedicated service of this center. I am only beginning to understand the impact of this work, the pervasiveness of injustice that make centers like Central necessary, the courage of our guests to come through our doors seeking help and state issued assurance of what should never be questioned, that they are who they are, and that we see them.  And it may not seem like much, a voucher, a referral, a toothbrush, a pack of crackers, a phone to make calls on, a place to receive mail, or even just kind words in a moment of need. But then again, I know what Scripture says the Spirit can do with a little. So at the very least, it’s a start.