Today I am posting the first of several guest blog posts. These posts will appear in the next couple of weeks, allowing me much needed time to go out and get inspired to write more! I want to introduce you to a friend of mine, her name is Stacey, and she is one incredible person wrapped up in this tiny little package!
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| Pic of Stacey and I. |
Well.. here are some of her words:
On Feb 27th, a group of folks from all different backgrounds,
some with tents and sleeping bags, others without one or the other, slept out
in Central City Park. The only
difference was that this time, there was a bunch of media and attention that
came there because these other people who typically sleep in houses joined
them. We did it to raise money for
Daybreak, a revolutionary new model of ecumenical engagement that gathers folks
from all religious ilk together to support a day center for our friends on the
street. I use the word day center because its the technical term, but it sounds
so cold and clinical. A cafe is what it
really is… whose goal is to provide rest,
renewal, and relationships.
So we decided to sleep out to raise money for our favorite
ecumenical effort downtown. But what was a one night inconvenience for me is an
every night way of life for my friend Devon, who is trying to work but has lost
his license, despite his skills. So he’s caught in a catch 22, unable to work
to earn money, unable to pay the money he owes to retrieve his license. Last
night, he slept in a sleeping bag in a shelter building on the grounds of
Central City Park and was significantly warmer than us novices, who pitched a
tent in an open field, although strategically located closer to the
bathroom. Temperatures in Macon dipped
down to 24 degrees. We “woke”
(I use the term loosely since I didn’t sleep) to a layer
of frost on all of our sleeping bags, tents, and to frozen water bottles.
Throughout the night I posted observations. Before we went out, I reflected on
the privilege I had that night, the biggest being that I was going to go home
to a warm house, a warm shower, and be sitting underneath my electric blanket
watching television. The italics below
are my Facebook posts, intermingled with what was going on at the time and
thoughts running through my head.
Some observations as I think about tonight's Sleep out: 1.
This is a glimpse of a life that I hope to never have. I will have insight but
this does not mean I know what it means to be homeless. This is a privileged
experience of one night of cold. I know I have a warm house to come back to.
That anxiety lifted off my chest automatically places me mentally light years
away from friends who will not. 2. We as friends of those on the streets have
often given really crappy gifts away. This will definitely shape my idea of
what we have available. 3. We need to be thinking about permanent supportive
housing instead.
Lesson #1 Learned: This will be uncomfortable, but is not
going to make me an expert on sleeping out or on homelessness. The only thing
that can make me an expert is being homeless. Because of my privilege, my
family, my church, and my friend network, I will always have a place to stay
unless I’ve burned
my bridges through addiction or mental illness.
At the beginning of the evening, I went in somber, but had a
great time fellowshipping around the fire with friends new and old. We roasted
marshmallows, told fun stories, and caught up.
I went into my tent warm and toasty and actually surprisingly
comfortable, feeling very safe.
I slept for maybe 15 minutes. Around 2:15 I became stunningly
aware of how cold it had gotten, I don’t know for sure what time it was
because in very cold weather, batteries in cell phones and other devices like
key fobs do not work. My phone was freezing so I put it inside the pocket of my
sweatshirt. While it was warming up I remembered an episode from work this week
- a person came to the office, manic, and wanted the church to buy minutes for
a cell phone as opposed to a night at the local shelter. The phone would keep
her warm, she said. I didn’t understand at the time, but at 2:20
when the phone warmed up and turned back on, I got it. On a petty level, I was
wide awake, needing a distraction from the freezing cold and my phone provided
that for me so I wasn’t thinking about the cold. Also, if I was in her shoes, I’d
be scared to be without my phone since it is my connection to security and
emergency services if I was in danger.
While I was on the web on my phone, I noticed that a friend on Facebook
had a dad who was very ill and facing surgery, requesting prayer. I prayed and
was immediately reminded that my few hours in cold temperatures was not much
compared to what some people were facing that night.
Lesson #2 Learned: Cell
phones are important for our friends on the street. Basic needs of safety,
connection, and conversation are at least partially met in these devices. Groups of folks like those you see on the river
are important for safety as well, but can also be a point of anxiety especially
for women in homelessness.
Observation at 2:27am: 31 degrees is a lot colder than 38.
I was very right- 31 feels a LOT colder than 38. I borrowed a
sleeping bag rated for cold temperatures, wore two thermal shirts, a sweater, a
sweatshirt, my winter coat, tights, pajamas, jeans, wool hiking socks, a hat, a
scarf, and ear muffs and I was still cold. At the beginning of the night, with
the fire roaring and the temperature in the upper 30s, I was fine. 31, however
was a different story. All of the sudden
my adequate sleeping bag’s large gaping hole at the top was
letting in so much cold air, no matter how much I tried to fold the edges under
my head. I tried various positions but nothing was really any warmer. I was
cold, uncomfortable, and my throat was starting to feel the effects of cold
air. There was really no more sleeping at this point. So I debated going to the
bathroom both because I had to and I needed to get up. We picked a spot fairly
close but I had to decide whether it was worth getting out of what little
warmth the sleeping bag provided to get out of the tent and go. But I figured
moving around would warm me up. So after an hour of debating, I just decided
the cold was worth it and ventured out.
Lesson #3 Learned: We need to come together as a city and make
housing like Utah or Nashville’s
supportive housing first model work. We need probably 600 one bedroom
apartments for single folks and 200 3 and 4 bedroom apartments for our
families. If that’s not a possibility, in the
mean time we need to think about handing out better supplies. My friend Keith
and I have talked about small waterproof cardboard lodgings that can be
borrowed for a night and returned to a central space each night. Even before that can happen though, we need
to invest in some warm sleeping bags and tents to have on hand during the
winter.
4 am observation: there are dryers in the women's bathroom at
central city park. Never in all my life have I been so happy to see them.
Never.
Public bathrooms are a topic of much debate, particularly in
parks. In Tattnall Square Park, we had incidences of violence when folks in
homelessness chose to sleep there, including an alleged rape. Yet, we all
recognize the need for public places for folks to use the rest rooms, both for
our regular park goes, and also for those who may not ready access to
facilities. They provide a much cleaner
alternative to where folks may have to go to perform this very natural and most
essential of all basic functions.
Normally, I hate dryers in public restrooms (*unless they are the
xlerator dryers that make you feel like your skin may come off) because they
take a long time to work. I’d rather grab a paper towel and make
this fast. But in the bathroom at Central City Park was a hand dryer and I
almost wept for joy. It was warm. I pushed the button three times laughing at
the sheer pleasure I had from those few blasts of hot air.
Lesson #4 learned: We need to have public restrooms available
at our city parks that are safe, allow people to enjoy some shelter for a few
minutes from the elements (at least over head elements like rain or ice), and
we should definitely include hand dryers.
6 am: heavy coat of frost on everything, including tent and
cars look iced over
We gathered together after our time at Daybreak for breakfast. I realized just how wonderful
those unlocked doors must be to our friends on the street when Daybreak opens
at 7 for breakfast. After being in the cold
and literally counting down the hours until I could go inside somewhere warm,
my exhausted body plopped down on a chair with a hot cup of coffee, grits, and
a muffin. There was a little debriefing
as we heard people share. My colleague Eric shared, as did some of my favorite
folks in Macon: Sharon Bailey, Mayor Reichert, Alex Morrison. My favorite though was my friend Devon
Wallace, a transplant from Jamaica by way of Maryland who explained to us that
this was the way many of them slept every night. He thanked God for Daybreak
and a place to relax, rest, and do some essentials of living like showering and
laundry. Then Devon asked if we wanted to be part of the chess club, because
you see, while the experience we had needed debriefing for us, this was every
day life for him. We’ve gone through it. Now we know. Let’s
move on to connection, learning, and celebration. It’s a simple thing: a
chess club. On the surface it looks like folks playing an ancient game of
skill. If you look deeper, you’ll see an equal footing for minds to
meet - a shared space of community and conversation.
Lesson #5 Learned: Through shared community space like
Daybreak and chess club, we should get to know our friends on the street as
people first. When we go, we do not need
to carry our savior attitude in. We need to leave that wherever we picked it up
and never touch it again. Instead, we need to engage in conversation, a cup of
coffee, a game of chess, and really learn from one another. I have learned way
more from Devon than he has learned from me already, and we’ve only been friends for two
months. We should be about the work of cultivating community and genuine
conversations that seek to learn. They will end in celebration of mutual
delight.
Rev. Stacey Harwell is a deacon in the United Methodist
church serving at Centenary United Methodist Church as the Minister of
Community Building. She enjoys activism,
music, movies, reading, good food, and playing with her dog Colby. She is passionate about building communities
where everyone is welcome and everyone can use their gifts and passions.
