Dear Lord, It’s the Fourth of July, a day for us to celebrate the birth of our nation and be grateful for our freedom and for those who fought to secure itRead More…
“D.C. housed the homeless in upscale apartments. It hasn’t gone as planned.” This a “must read” for people who wonder how well the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development’s focusRead More…
Keepsakes are… “Something kept, or to be kept in memory of the giver” I love keepsakes. The ones I treasure most are from my three sons and my grandchildren… hand-made cards, drawings,Read More…
If you’re a librarian, this rose is for you.
“Brenda” was waiting for me inside Cossitt Library, Memphis’ small but historic downtown library where she, and other homeless people often spend their days, knowing they’ll be safe, accepted,and treated just the same as other patrons. (That she was waiting for me may not mean much to most people, but in my experience, keeping an appointment is pretty remarkable for a homeless woman with untreated paranoid schizophrenia who spends her nights in an oversize wheelchair under a bus stop.) Memphis is sorely lacking emergency shelter for women, street outreach, and housing. It does not lack libraries or dedicated, competent, compassionate librarians who often go the extra mile for their more vulnerable patrons, homeless and housed.
For several months, “Brenda” had slept at various churches, including mine, through the Room in the Inn program. Unfortunately, she’d become so psychotic and disruptive that the churches couldn’t accommodate her any longer. I’d still tried to engage her (with food and bus tickets), had found her sitting in her wheelchair outside the library the day before, and asked if she would let me help her get off the streets. “Yes,” she said,(surprising me) and then agreed with me that one needn’t be ashamed of having a disease. She even listened as I described some of the symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia.
The first thing she said to me the next morning was “I have it. I looked up the symptoms.” Pointing at an empty corner, she said, “I can see those men standing over there and I can tell they’re talking about me, but you can’t see them because they’re not really there!” It was a major breakthrough. “Are you willing to go to the Crisis Stabilization Unit (CSU) for a few days to stabilize on the meds you need and then go into a group home when you’re discharged (which I’d already lined up), I asked? “Yes,” she replied. Quietly ecstatic, I called the police non-emergency number, asked them to send an officer from the Crisis Intervention Team, and waited. Two young female officers showed up about an hour later.
“We can’t take her in just because she’s homeless and has a mental illness,” one said. “I know,” I replied, rather testily.
“You feel like harming yourself?” she asked Sheila. “No, I don’t feel like harming myself,” she replied, rather testily.
“You feel like harming somebody else?” asked the other one. “Yeah,” said Sheila, even more testily, “I feel like harming a lot of people.”
“Let’s go,” said the officers, and wheeled her out of the library.
(Brenda had said the “magic words” and I hadn’t even told her what to say!)
(As always, there is LOTS more to this story, but as this is written, she is still safely housed.)
Thank you, librarians, all over America, for opening your hearts and others’ minds to your library’s most vulnerable patrons, homeless or housed.
WWJD – What would Jesus do… … about children, legal or undocumented? Caveat: I am not a preacher or even a biblical scholar—but when Jesus told his disciples to “suffer the littleRead More…