“I never thought it would be like this. I’m so tired.”
The tall blond standing in front of our booth table was probably striking in her looks a few months back. But today her eyes were sunken and it seemed there were some dark bruises on her face. Her hair was finger-combed and matted. Her clothes weren’t too tattered, so looks could be deceiving. Yet as her story unfolded I learned that all she had was in her bookbag. 56 years old and homeless.
My heart hurt for her. How could I understand how frightening and disheartening it was to live on the street? How would I feel searching for a place to sleep while most everyone else unlocks the door of their apartments and homes and disappears for the night in the safety of their own abode? They were safe, but what if I was vulnerable – how would I survive? I imagined trying to crouch somewhere to get away from the stares and the questions. I didn’t even begin to think what it would be like to be hungry while living on the streets.
She wanted help so desperately when she came up to our table at the WowJam Festival in Sunland, California. Reach UP magazine shared a table with a local organization that runs an expansive food pantry and was giving out homeless survival kits as well.
Homelessness isn’t a lark. She tried to explain that it started with landlord troubles, and said, “You know how that goes….”
I really didn’t have experience with bad landlords, but I’d heard enough about how bad it could get that I could authentically nod in agreement. And I understood how quickly a working person could go from having a roof over their head to being out on the street. When I lost my job, I knew that my scant savings wouldn’t keep me in my apartment indefinitely. Fortunately I had a safety net of family members who took me in when my options narrowed. But if I didn’t have that – let’s just say, I got a whiff of fear.
It was impacting to see and hear this lady’s cry, and it was almost a literal cry, for help. Our table partners were handing her food and the kit while I squeezed around our booth opening to hug her. She needed to know that she was valued.
Somewhere in all that exchange, I gave her a copy of Reach UP magazine. Some may argue, ‘What is a magazine when this woman’s needs were so great?’ That’s true. But it’s also the beauty of working with organizations who are providing excellent, resourced care and provisions.
I envision that when she finds some peaceful solitude, she’ll open up her bag and go through her things. After all, she’s a woman like me and that’s what I would do.
There, in the quiet she’ll read articles that will introduce her to God and good living without condemnation or a blatant lack of understanding of her challenging circumstances. I believe that the printed word will give her something to hold on to and help her remember the smiles of encouragement and advice from volunteers who are out making a difference. I believe that the attractive graphics will cause her to pause and smile, if only for a moment. Because moments of good are crucial when personal pain is intense.
In less than three hours we gave out about 100 magazines in English and Spanish at the Sunland WowJam Festival. There were other homeless people and some pretty down-on-their-luck who came to our table. Reach UP magazine’s message of hope and empowerment went home, whatever that looked like, with them that day.
As a radio interviewer remarked recently about Reach UP, we were the bow on the package of what others do for the disenfranchised.
I wholeheartedly believe your prayers and financial help are – the whispers of God to marginalized women
everywhere.
We are in desperate need of support as we are in the final steps of preparation for the fall issue. Won’t you consider giving a sacrificial gift today? www.reachupmag.org donation page or go directly to paypal, reachupmag@aol.com There are thousands more who will receive a magazine of hope and healing this fall.