UNDER THE SKY

On a given night in January 2013, in the United States of America, 610,042 people were homeless. 65 percent were living in emergency shelters or transitional housing programs and 35 percent were living in unsheltered locations. 18 percent, (or 109,132) were chronically homeless. Nearly 85 percent (or 92,593) of the chronically homeless were homeless as individuals. Approximately 15 percent (or 16,539) were people in families. 

9 percent (or 57,849) of all homeless in January 2013 were homeless veterans., just under 8 percent of those (4,456) were female. 

Nearly one-quarter (23 percent or 138,149) of all homeless in January of 2013 were children, under the age of 18. Ten percent (or 61,541) were between the ages of 18 and 24, and 67 percent (or 410,352) were 25 years or older. 8 percent of those homeless children (or 46,924) were unaccompanied homeless children and youth, and 13 percent (or 6,197) of those children were under the age of 18.

The 2013 Annual Homeless Assessment Report (AHAR) to Congress

https://www.hudexchange.info/resources/documents/ahar-2013-part1.pdf

The issue of homelessness is different from the plight of the homeless.  And the plight of the homeless is different from the torment of the families and loved ones of the homeless.  I was unravelling those distinctions during the holiday season, as homelessness seemed to find me through three separate channels.

First, our pastor Father Mike Carroll is spearheading a group addressing the issue of homelessness in our northern California town of Auburn.  Winter’s approach adds the seasonal threat of exposure to the daily threat of starvation, giving Father Mike’s work a sense of urgency and giving me an opportunity to counsel him on matters logistical and to encourage him on matters spiritual.  Our talks have been about numbers and dollars, locations and availability, legislators and legalities.

 

Next, I was introduced on Christmas Day to a mother whose homeless son had, within the past 3 months, been found and reunited with his siblings and mother, only to be lost to a death not surrounded by those of his birth family, but rather by his fellow homeless.

Finally, I attended a memorial service given by desert friends whose homeless grandson had lost his life, and whose family connections over the past several years had been intermittent, ever-diminishing, and increasingly non-communicative.

This season has taught me, as I said earlier, that homelessness has many aspects.  The homeless issue, as I relate to Father Mike’s work, is unique in that it is, while noble, relatively nameless and faceless.  The plight of the homeless is quite different, as I saw when I pieced together the stories of both my friends who laid out the puzzle pieces of their loved ones’ lives.  And finally, there was the torment of the families and loved ones left behind.  I thought about how unsettling their thoughts were right after they had lost someone whose life had been so seemingly beleaguered.  I empathized with them as they envisioned how their loved ones had lived... how far from the comfort we enjoy. 

And it was there that lay the real lesson for me.

I recalled the words of the Serenity Prayer: ”God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the Courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference.”  Death in its irrefutable finality surely fell into the “acceptance” category, didn’t it?  It could not be changed. Yet I was inspired to search between the lines to find consolation for these grieving friends. What about asking God to grant the courage to change, if not the circumstance of the homeless death of a loved one, to change the way we thought about it?  Might that not lessen the torment and ease the burden?

Think of this - the fathers of our faiths lived, as these and so many others for the last chapter of life, without a real home. Abraham, Moses, Mohammed, Buddha, and Jesus all lived their lives in a nomadic state. Often lonely and mentally strained, they followed their individual calls. They, like every homeless person, lived "Under the Sky." Could we reshape our thinking around that?

New ways of thinking are not always accepted by those in deep grief.  I am 

fortunate that both my friends were receptive and even welcoming of this reshaped view.  Its connotation brought to mind stories they had each heard from others who lived with their loved ones of community, fellowship, routine, purpose, mutual aid, and true contentment. 

I know there are those of you who have lost loved ones who lived once, or live now, Under the Sky.  If they are still living in that lifestyle, I hope that this message will provide for you a paradigm shift.  If they passed away in that state, celebrate in your heart that they are at peace, and find peace yourself in the paraphrased words of the Serenity Prayer. You cannot change what happened to them, but you can change the way you think about it. I hope that brings peace to your heart. 

One final note of hope, from a story told at a memorial for my friend’s grandson:  their community had a daily ping pong competition, well-attended and fiercely-competed. How?  Someone had found a ping pong ball; two cement picnic tables in the park where they had been given space were just close enough to provide two landing areas, and the space between was the imaginary “net;” and for paddles, they used their hands!  They changed what they could, rather than accepting defeat.  They found lasting enjoyment through a shift in perspective.

May there be a lesson there for each of us.