Why we do Project Homeless Connect

The coffee finally cooled to a drinkable temperature. She had been staring into the cup for a few minutes, like she was seeking answers from the tepid, milky void. The noise of the large room  faded into a symphony of background sounds that were indistinguishable from one another. A droning hum replaced the individual voices and activities of those around her, creating a wave of  comfortable isolation. She was totally alone in a room crowded with others.

That was fine because she preferred not standing out.

Before she went, she was unsure of whether or not she was even going to attend the event because similar past experiences left her feeling worse than when she arrived. There seemed to be an unspoken stigma attached to these sort of things that she would rather avoid; a passive-aggressive tone that segregated the participants into an "us and them" caste. But, by the end of this day she realized all she had gone through was unique to this day. It was a different experience that sought to help without embarrassing and assist without discriminating. It truly wanted to connect people in ways that were beneficial and empowering.

She re-shifted her gaze and let her eyes readjust to a reality she often dreamed was a dream, itself. It wasn't. Her circumstances were as real and genuine as the paper coffee cup she held in her grasp. Her's was not an existence that could be wished away. While her life had never been a Fairytale story, it had slowly devolved into a cautionary tale marked by one tragedy upon another. And so she sat in the large room at a nondescript table in a tiny corner of northwestern Montana. She sat and she thought. Then she thought some more.

Something was changing.

She discarded her victim mentality and embraced one of determined resolution. It wasn't an epiphany or sign in the heavens. The room was not going to break out into a choreographed musical, culminating with her standing on top of the table singing her life's new mantra in a ready-made, rehearsed chorus. It had been a process of deliberation that led her to this point in time. In spite of any help she received, she had to make the decision to take back her life. It would be incremental and not an overnight success, but she was prepared for the journey.

The woman folded the empty paper plate and discarded all her rubbish in the nearest trash barrel. She surveyed the papers and information collected during the previous 3 hours. She now had resources and knowledge and the tools to implement her methodical escape from the life she indifferently wandered through. And as she gathered all her materials and the few items she picked up throughout the day, she looked down into the stroller at her sleeping son.

His life would be different because she was changing hers.