Courage

I am on the road this week, not in Asheville and therefore not at Haywood Street tomorrow. I shall miss my time there, but the distance and the drive have given me time for reflection about the community at Haywood Street.

I feel compelled to write about the courage it takes to live unhoused. There are many stories. Last week I met a woman who had just arrived in Asheville five days before. She and her husband had ridden a bus across the country from Montana to North Carolina because they heard there was work in the mountains. They arrived on Friday night only to discover that there was no shelter open and they had no where to stay. They had to sleep outside and on the street. Somehow they heard about Haywood Street and found their way to us. They had also found a place that would house them since Monday. She wanted to be a companion and put herself to work immediately in the Clothing Closet. One of the benefits of the Clothing Closet is that the inventory turns over rapidly. One of the other companions had brought some beautiful knit shirts in many colors for us to put out. Our new friend from Montana found a lovely yellow one that set off her tan and suited her sunny personality, but she wanted to leave something in exchange. She left a beautiful pastel lilac backpack. Someone wanted it and she went upstairs to tell her husband that she had exchanged it for another bag so he wouldn't think someone had stolen the backpack from her. She arrived with a smile on her face and left with a bigger one. It was clear she has a spirit of open trust and generosity. I am hoping to catch some of that from her when I go back next week. I know she and her husband want work, but I hope she finds something to do that allows her to come back for Haywood Street's lunches and services.

Another worker that I met recently is not unhoused now, but she has faced the threat of it and has made her way without losing heart. She has a job and she lives in a community a good distance away, but on a bus line so she can come to Haywood Street to work. Her car had an expensive repair she couldn't afford so she gave up her car. That meant she couldn't keep the job she had as there wasn't public transportation to it and therefore could not make her housenote. She lost her house as well as her car. What a change in her life! She had never been without a car since she was a teenager or a house since she was an adult. She has a friend who helps her do heavy shopping on weekends since trying to carry groceries  on the bus is difficult if she has more than a bag or two. I thought of my grandmother who never learned to drive a car. She worked as a secretary after her husband died of TB leaving her with four young children. Every day she rode the bus to town and back and when she got off the bus she went to the butcher and the green grocer for that night's dinner because that was all she could carry. Then she walked down an alley to her back door. My new acquaintance reminded me of that determination. If I wanted to make it sound romantic, I could say they were both very European, but I know what it is like to carry heavy groceries after a hard day of work from a car into a house. It is not romantic. I can only imagine what it was like to carry food many blocks.

Yes, it takes courage to sleep outside in sub-freezing temperatures, to endure thunder storms without shelter, to travel across the country on a rumor of work, and to restart life without transportation and a home. What they find at Haywood Street is an appreciation of their strength and a loving community that wants them to succeed.