One Big Family.

Last week a friend of mine whom I respect greatly really opened my eyes. I had recently shaved my winter's beard and it was the first time we had spoken since the epic event. "Wow," he noted, "you don't look homeless anymore." He continued speaking to me but all that resounded in my head was this statement over and over... like a bad dance mix that keeps looping at a party you wish you weren't attending.

He was absolutely right. One thing I have noticed during my time at Samaritan House is that a great deal of our residents do, in fact, sport facial hair of all sorts of combinations and designs. How blind and jaded had I become by not recognizing that homeless people have beards? My life significantly changed that afternoon as I assaulted the streets of Kalispell with a new purpose to help as many homeless as I could. 

But then I felt a tad underprepared for this new task and thought I should do more research. I began observing the residents at the shelter and also noted that homeless people drink coffee. This would up the ante but it was, nevertheless, helpful. I thought how nice it was for all the individual coffee drive-through vendors to dedicate an entire business for the homeless. 

My next observation opened my eyes to something that had been staring me in the face but I still neglected to notice: The majority of our residents wore boots; hiking, mostly. I became saddened as I strode through a local grocery store one evening and noted all the people wearing boots. It was depressing to realize the homeless epidemic was spreading faster than anticipated. 

The despair in my heart reached its apex when a trip to a restaurant landed me right in the middle of a homeless camp masquerading as a local eatery. Sure, it looked like an average place where people gathered to eat meals in public, but what tipped me off to the reality of the situation was the fact that every single person was wearing either a tee-shirt or a button down shirt. Just like our residents. "Flabbergasted" is the only word that describes how I felt as I noticed that I was really homeless because not only was I wearing a shirt and boots, I was drinking coffee and had a smattering of facial stubble.

I owe much to my friend who opened my eyes to the problem of homelessness in the Flathead Valley. I then retired to my home for the evening to contemplate a way out of my ordeal. I did feel badly, though, for the other homeless people who had no home.