The first week of January 2011, I volunteered at a community women’s shelter in Montgomery County, Maryland. My task? Serve dinner. On this weeknight, six volunteers served food and drink to approximately 30 women living in these temporary quarters. 

Usually I take pictures each time I volunteer and I’m careful not to post any which identifies recipients of any services.  I do this primarily for personal privacy reasons but also because I want the focus of my article to be on the organization served and my role. The occupants of this shelter were very sensitive to my camera.  And, even though I asked the assembled group if anyone wanted to be excluded from a picture, some women became very upset with me at the mention of photography.  Of course my intention  was never to cause a stir however that is exactly what happened.  A couple women left the dinner table and stomped off down the hall, grumbling and complaining despite my offer to show the pictures to anyone with concern.  Those affected refused my offer. I felt very bad from this point on.  And the thought that I had more than an hour left in my shift made me just want to fade into the woodwork.

Easier said than done.  As too many volunteers had showed up that night, I was the lone woman out.  I didn’t have an assigned task.  And so I tried to make a difference by offering to refill drinks, passing dessert around, and generally acting as go-between from serving line to seated diners. 

What kind of bothered me was the very clear line between them, the residents, and us, the volunteers.  Volunteers stood separated by a counter and all stood on the kitchen side of the room watching residents eat.  Residents filed in and formed a line on the other side of the counter and sat at the tables on that side of the room.

Maybe they didn’t want to intermingle.  And, maybe, because I did, that also offended some women.  I can’t say.  Being the social person that I am, I tried to make non-controversial conversation with a few people.  I can’t say that I made the type of connections that I’m used to making on other volunteer projects, soul to soul moments which feed both donor and recipient and confuse the lines between the two. These women were closed off to me.  One or two women felt compelled to apologize for the attitude of the few; probably the ones I offended with my picture-taking. 

This is a rare occasion where I will not reveal the name or website of the organization where I worked. I feel that if I did, my presentation would be filtered through rose-colored glasses. I’m a writer and a volunteer but first, I’m an individual and, despite weeks spent thinking about how I would present this experience, I have not resolved my lingering feelings of disappointment. I found the environment hostile.  And maybe that’s what happens to homeless people.  I’ve read articles about the personality changes that happen to a person living on the streets– the feelings of helplessness, despondency, depression, etc.

The Past

One year ago my volunteer project also focused on homelessness, and it’s mere coincidence that I find myself dedicating my January 2011 piece to the same topic.  I also focused on the earthquake in Haiti.  Looking at the Haitian country one year later reminds me the problems that countries, rich and poor, face when dealing with the homeless.  In addition to natural disasters (remember Hurricane Katrina?), the causes of homelessness can be obvious – unemployment, foreclosure, poverty – and also less obvious – addiction, loss of health insurance, lack of affordable housing, domestic violence and mental health issues. 

The Present 

When the shooting occurred in Tucson, Arizona on January 8^th, a beacon focused the national spotlight on the United States lack of mental health treatment options.  A week later, I see the focus fading already.  This is not an issue our country will tackle.  The public, the media and our elected officials are already shifting focus back on repealing the federal healthcare initiatives and gun control. Apparently, the national debate about mental health funding and services is too uncomfortable and unpopular.  I realize I am generalizing.  I am not an expert on this topic.  I simply make an observation.

Also in the recent media, coming as a ray of hope for homeless people in this new year, is the story of the man with the golden voice, Ted Williams of Ohio.   Thanks to the inspiration of a Columbus Dispatch reporter Kevin Joy and a videographer, Ted Williams became a national sensation with a video placed on YouTube.   The story confirmed our belief in miracles.  We had hard evidence of a mother’s answered prayers.  Ted received many job offers and accepted a generous one from the Cleveland Cavaliers.  News stories announced this happy ending: not only a job offer, but one which included a generous housing benefit.  After this meteoric rise from obscurity to fame, within days, Mr. Williams was admitted to a rehabilitation center for drug and alcohol treatment.  I imagine his employer is footing the bill for that as well.  The story highlights that treatment for homelessness goes deeper than providing shelter. It makes the case for health insurance coverage not only for pre-existing conditions, but also for mental illness and addiction treatment.

A few years ago, in my home state of Colorado, then-mayor-now-governor John Hickenlooper gave a presentation to a group of well-placed MBAs living and working in Denver.  I remember the astounding savings the city would reap by directly treating homelessness with a combination of housing and health care, job training and education – the result was an overall financial savings reaped when treated versus untreated relying on the concept that homelessness should be ignored and “those people should pull themselves up by their own bootstraps.”  Using Hickenlooper’s business facts, the city began a ten-year program which is well along the path to treating and ameliorating Denver’s homelessness problem. 

The Future

Which brings me back to my earlier statement about the emotional toll homelessness takes on a person’s heart and mind.  I don’t know if the women surrounding me on that night were all displaying the invisible effects of homelessness or not, but I do know that the experience was very uncomfortable for me.  I don’t know if the other volunteers share my sentiments. I suspect not. I encourage readers to volunteer in their communities and become involved in solving social issues. My experience probably is not representative of all similar volunteers tasks in shelters. I sincerely hope not.  I also encourage volunteers to find a cause which matches their passion and abilities.

I was reminded once again how uncomfortable it is to be out of one’s element. (Seems like every month I volunteer receive this reminder – see some of my previous stories.) And that discomfort can bring great learning and personal growth.  I’m not sure of the lesson I learned that night or what the value is for me but I suspect that will become obvious as I continue on with my monthly volunteer stints.  As one friend of mine says, “Onward.”  Yes, indeed.