It’s an uphill battle, that’s for sure. It’s hard to find the public’s compassion for those living in the tunnel. The argument is valid—they made certain choices and they’re living with the repercussions, as do we all. Often it seems that evil permeates every nook and cranny, and it’s particularly hard when you’re spending a lot of time in those nooks—living in those crannies.
It’s almost like exploring an alien world, looking for signs of intelligent life. I believe I found someone this week. It was Friday afternoon. After mingling with various drug-addicted “zombies,” I noticed a woman with a bit of pep in her step. Eventually, I was near her and I started talking to the man sitting next to her. Within a minute she was asking questions, engaged in the conversation, and sharing her story. I don’t know if she’ll write it out to share with the rest of the class, but I hope she does. I think she’s holding onto a lot of helpful information. Time will tell—if I can find her again.
Fingers crossed.
Photo by Dayne Topkin on Unsplash
Some don’t want to get out.
As much as I wish it weren’t so rare that someone is located with a real potential to get out of the tunnel, the truth is resources are scarce on this side of the doors.
There’s an entire world that exists on one side of the doors, and an entire world on the other side. The decision for someone living in homelessness to walk through the doors between their world and ours is monumental—it’s a transition, from the world they know very, very well, back into the world that didn’t work out for them the first time. The amount of courage it takes to come back into this world is truly admirable. It would be like dedicating yourself to rekindling an abusive relationship and hoping it all works out this time.
When someone walks into Brook Recovery in Memphis, the Compassion Center in Little Rock, Gospel Rescue Mission in Tucson, or any of the hundreds of shelters, rehab facilities, or social services institutions across the country, that person has chosen to undertake a massive transition. Sometimes, all it takes is a phone call and some reassuring words to get them through the doors. Other times, it takes a one-on-one meeting and a ride to the location. Sometimes it takes someone sitting outside the front door with them all night to make sure they’re first in line for the next morning’s intake.
Yes, some don’t want to get out. You’re right. At the very least, we should put forth the effort to understand why. We’re used to our world. We’re familiar with it—comfortable with it. We think the choice is a no-brainer, so the step of making the transition should be a no-brainer as well, and we have difficulty understanding the apprehension. The choice to try again, though, is not just a single step. It’s a long series of hard decisions, mindful tests, trials, and errors within that other world. Only after these experiences are felt can the decision to try the other world again even be considered. We imagine bright futures—we’re blinded by them, and we lose sight of the people behind the decisions they make. I’m guilty of it—the impatience—but their caution is well-deserved, and I need all the help I can get when it comes to keeping their perspective in mind.
Your support means more than I can hope to fully express, so thank you.