Som not-so-obvious ways to help the homeless

Some small town wisdom, by Marcia Ford

Ask anyone in the mountain town where I live if they have recently seen a guy
named Kyle, chances are they will know exactly who you’re asking about.
Everybody knows him, but he is always alone. Before I knew his name or any
details of his life, I would often see this young man with shoulder-length, stringy
blond hair standing at one of the busiest intersections in the area, waiting for the
light to change. I thought he was intriguing. He looked at the area surrounding him
analytically and seemed to be on a mission.

In time, I learned his name was Kyle, and some people in the community regularly
looked after him. They even started a Facebook page where people could post
where they saw him and how he was doing. A local coffee shop provided free
coffee and pastries, and some restaurants and fast food places helped feed him.

What they provided was probably not enough, but as far as I know Kyle didn’t beg

or make his needs known. He lived in a tent about 50 yards from our house until
the owners of that property kicked him off. Since then, he’s been living in various
places in the national forest that surrounds our town. He’s hard to keep track of

these days, because squatting on federal land is frowned on.

Although I hitchhiked thousands of miles in my misspent youth, I don’t routinely
pick up hitchhikers today. I broke that routine one day when I picked up Kyle. By
then, I knew he wasn’t violent or aggressive. Besides, I had this calm assurance
that it would be okay. People who don’t have a strong intuition will consider that
reckless; I don’t know of any way I can explain the confidence I had that day that

will assure others that it just felt right.

Kyle and I chatted a bit during that two-mile ride. He seemed uncomfortable and
never made eye contact with me. All in all, it was an okay experience. I was glad I
helped him out on that cold and snowy day.

The next time I saw him on my road, I sensed trouble and drove past him. In my
rearview mirror, I caught him giving me the finger. It was a mild, sunny day, I
knew he would be fine, and I felt no guilt about not picking him up. I soon became
unable to drive, so my encounters with Kyle stopped abruptly.

To my knowledge, he’s the only homeless man in our town of 9,000. Or maybe the

only visible homeless person.

Ours is a unique situation. We have several soup kitchens and food and clothing
distribution centers, and we have a needy but housed population that uses those
services. It’s nothing like larger rural communities or urban areas.

Take Denver, for example, 90 miles and a world away. Our daughter lives across
from a vacant lot that used to be the site of a large homeless encampment until it
was broken up in a police crackdown. Our daughter had to walk right by the camp
to get to work every day. Here’s the thing: she doesn’t live in a rundown
neighborhood. In her encounters with some of the homeless people, she came to
realize that most of them did not want to be homeless, and many were single
women with children who couldn’t afford to work or were fleeing abusive
situations. She never met anyone who liked the way they were living and who
wasn’t struggling to get out.

Now, I realize I’m probably preaching to the choir, but bear in mind that I’m not
preaching. I’m exploring. I, and probably all of you, know the obvious ways we
can help the homeless, by giving them money, food, clothing, shelter, and so forth.

But what about the not-so-obvious ways?

A few weeks ago I told the story of Harold, my homeless brother-in-law and his
death in a fire at a motel-turned-shelter. I often wonder what he needed most,
beyond the obvious; no one in our family was aware that he was living on the
streets until winter came, he moved into the shelter, and his name was listed among

those who died in the fire.

People who work with the homeless offer suggestions about how to help people
like Harold, gleaned from observations or conversations with the unhoused. As I
read through those lists, I often feel as if I can add this sentence to every
suggestion: Get to know them and find out what they want or need.

I realize that some homeless people don’t want to be bothered by outsiders. They
certainly don’t want the attention of do-gooders, people who donate money and
stuff—often discards they themselves wouldn’t wear or use—without ever meeting
a single homeless person. But many homeless people do want genuine friendship

or whatever kind of personal relationship you can provide.

And yes, I am all too aware that some homeless people are violent and
dangerous—just as some of our neighbors are. Trust your instincts. Trust your
God. If someone seems hinky, don’t approach them and back away if you’ve
already reached out to them. Well-intentioned Christians can find themselves in

threatening circumstances because they believe that’s where God wants them to be.

They need to get out of their head and trust in the wisdom God gave them.
Instead of listing everything we can do, I’d like to hear from some of you who
have interacted with the homeless and have discovered what they really need.
What have you or your community done that proved to be effective and
apppreciated? Let us know in the comments.