Image via WikipediaSo we took the Girl Scouts for a tour of a skid row homeless shelter for women last week. I had worried that we would come off like disaster tourists, but that's just my narcissism talking. Because we quickly realized the tour wasn't about us at all. It was about the Downtown Women's Center and the amazing work they do. They provide permanent housing for about 70 women. Most of the women who live their will stay their until they die. Most have mental or physical disabilities. Many have had substance abuse problems. Many have been victims of domestic violence. Many just had too much bad luck all at once. The residents can have cats, which I thought was nice. This guy, Steve, led our tour. He was the volunteer coordinator. He was young and energetic--maybe 25--with a degree in psychology. And as I watched him I was simultaneously inspired and ashamed. Inspired because, in the face of hopelessness, he was so peppy, hopeful and respectful of the people he worked for. Ashamed because never in my wildest dreams would it have occurred to me to build a career around this sort of service. My narcissism would not have dug that at all. I think we can all agree that Steve is the better person here.
On the way home, one of our girls said, "I just don't see how you can end up homeless. My brain just can't wrap around this. Wouldn't their families take care of them?"
I tried to repeat what Steve had said..."Blah, blah, blah...mental health...disabilities...drugs...bad luck..."
"But...I just don't get it."
Unfortuntately, I think I do.
(We're making the residents hygiene kits. It's literally the least we can do.)
(The picture is of Juliette Gordon Low, who founded Girl Scouts. But I don't know which one she is!)
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