The Ghost of Tom Joad

Inspiration comes in different forms on different days.

I recently finished a book that I hadn't read in along time and it reminded me that the issues of homelessness and poverty have been haunting America for a long time. The culture of homelessness has been written about and examined and is inextricably wound into the fabric of this nation's history. We spend so much time and energy dissecting the system perpetuating homelessness, its easy to marginalize the actual faces it entraps. Statistics often replace the people and data under-represents the stories.

Sometimes by default, we highlight the tragedy associated with homelessness. The narratives of heartbreak and depression and despair are often front and center and should not be forgotten or neglected. But every day I see a different drama unfold in the same way it has been unfolding for decades; there is a type of camaraderie among our residents that is only known by them. The trials and tribulations they've endured breed a fellowship that unintentionally excludes anyone who has never been hungry or worried about making rent. There is a communion between them reserved only for the broken-spirited. For those who mend themselves and then extend a hand to others who have given up.

I write this not to patronize or even diagnose what I see everyday. Rather, I am inspired by the sense of hope and dogged determination so many of our residents demonstrate. The way in which they sacrifice so much energy to encourage one another reminds me that we all are just a small piece of a much larger picture. There are elements of each one of us wrapped up in the greater human story of life. I am thankful that our residents teach me things every day.

"Whenever they's a fight so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Whenever they's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there... I'll be in the way guys yell when they're mad an'-I'll be in the way kids laugh when they're hungry an' they know supper's ready. An' when our folks eat the stuff they raise an' live in the houses they build-why, I'll be there."    - The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck.