Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Family Promise of Anderson County: Homeless 4 Homeless Box City 2010
Family Promise of Anderson County: Homeless 4 Homeless Box City 2010: "The Night I Spent Sleeping in a Box. . . So Family Promise of Anderson County has an event every year to raise money for our program. The ..."
Homeless 4 Homeless Box City 2010
The Night I Spent Sleeping in a Box. . .
So Family Promise of Anderson County has an event every year to raise money for our program. The idea is you pay 30 bucks to become homeless for one night. Now, of course it isn't really as hard as the real experience--usually lots of friends are there doing it with you and few actually "sleep." Still, the experience provides several teachable moments for anyone who is open to them.
Registration began at 6pm and my poor son Jackson had to go to the doctor Friday morning because he had strep throat. So I arrive around 4pm way behind with lots of things to get done before the event even begins. I make small-talk with our board--many of whom had been there since just after lunch setting up. I drag my boxes to a spot that looks good, flat, and comfortable. I pile my stuff there and return to role of Network Director making sure everyone has everything, knows where to go and what to do.
At 8:30pm we hold a service--a strange mixture of education, worship, and challenge (mental note: gotta get a more consistent theme for next year). David Neece from Anderson University did a wonderful job putting together a band that, by the end of the night, literally blew a circuit breaker they played so well (yes, literally). Dawna Harrison from Faces of Homelessness shared with everyone a bit of her experience, how many of us tend to stereotype homeless people, and then a former graduate of T.L. Hanna shared about her drug-induced journey from a good middle class upbringing to staying in the Salvation Army shelter. She also shared how she got back from there, and emphasized how important it was for her journey to have those helping agencies there for support.
The crowds then went back to building their box cities, and I spent some time in the lounge chair I had strategically remembered to bring at the last minute. Many of our volunteers who had been there since noon left, the band loaded up their equipment, people stacked chairs, and things began to wind down. Kids behind my box were playing football and another group was playing soccer.
As I looked around I actually thought, "Hey, this isn't so bad, I just might be able to do this." Then I thought about my family. I could probably live in a box if I had to--if I was alone. But being a father and a husband--that would make being homeless a lot tougher. All the challenges of living hand to mouth with no place to call "home" would be all the more amplified with 3 other individuals (2 of them children) I feel responsible to care for. I thought about the affect this would have on my self-esteem--"I can't even take care of my family" a voice would echo in my head (another mental note: what a teachable event for families to experience together, we need to invite more families next year).
Then it came time to turn out the lights and lay down. My so-called "flat, comfortable" spot turned out to have a hump of dirt right where I had planned to sleep--so I spent the night on a dirt hump that, despite my best efforts, could not be ignored. After the lights went out around 12:30 (some poor girl kept coming up to me saying, "when are you going to turn the lights out, I'm tired1") things got fairly quiet. In all the merriment I think the brutal fact that "we are sleeping in boxes" was mostly avoided. Several groups did a wonderful job decorating their boxes, bringing in blow-up palm trees, lights, adding graffiti to their box, and even building a box "cul-de-sac."
But as things got quiet, I think it began to sink in. For a night, it was something most of us survived. But what if a night turned into a week? A month? A year? Anderson County identified right at 500 homeless school children in districts 1-5 last year. Some stayed with relatives, some moved from friend to friend, some slept in cars, some stayed in tents on land that wasn't theirs.
At 5:00 am I gave up and declared the hump the victor. I spent some time with several youth from Boulevard Baptist who had stayed up all night, only to fall asleep outside at 5:00 am. Breakfast followed not long after--wonderful chicken biscuits from Chick-Fil-A, homemade grits, milk, juice, the works. Boy, did that taste good. Andrew Gibson from the Lot Project came and spoke that morning and I spent the majority of the morning talking with him and Nick Pratt from bocim.org, "dreaming big" about what we learned about homelessness and how we can do better next year.
Later that morning, after everyone else left, I spent most of the day hauling all the cardboard from the box city to our recycling center-- it took me 3 trips! As I loaded the crushed and broken-down boxes on the truck, I thought about all the people who attended, and hoped that they learned something about what it might be like to be homeless.
We raised close to $3,000 for Family Promise, but most importantly, I think we challenged people to be aware of the plight of the homeless. We forget about how difficult that might be. I think of the scene from The Blind Side where Leigh Anne Touhy invites Michael Oher into his new bedroom and after an approving smile he says, "I've never had one before."
"What your own room?" Leigh Anne asks, "No, a bed." Michael replies. It is at that moment Leigh Anne realizes just how much she has been given, and that making room in her over-sized McMansion was a very small sacrifice compared to what Michael Oher faced in his life.
In the end, our program is about the kids. Regardless of their parents' decisions--good and bad, the kids have never been given an option. The children in our program never got to choose their circumstances, and the small sacrifices we make to show them there are people who care doesn't compare to what they have sacrificed already in their little time on this planet.
Grace & Peace,
Mark A. Wise
Network Director
Family Promise of Anderson County
So Family Promise of Anderson County has an event every year to raise money for our program. The idea is you pay 30 bucks to become homeless for one night. Now, of course it isn't really as hard as the real experience--usually lots of friends are there doing it with you and few actually "sleep." Still, the experience provides several teachable moments for anyone who is open to them.
Registration began at 6pm and my poor son Jackson had to go to the doctor Friday morning because he had strep throat. So I arrive around 4pm way behind with lots of things to get done before the event even begins. I make small-talk with our board--many of whom had been there since just after lunch setting up. I drag my boxes to a spot that looks good, flat, and comfortable. I pile my stuff there and return to role of Network Director making sure everyone has everything, knows where to go and what to do.
At 8:30pm we hold a service--a strange mixture of education, worship, and challenge (mental note: gotta get a more consistent theme for next year). David Neece from Anderson University did a wonderful job putting together a band that, by the end of the night, literally blew a circuit breaker they played so well (yes, literally). Dawna Harrison from Faces of Homelessness shared with everyone a bit of her experience, how many of us tend to stereotype homeless people, and then a former graduate of T.L. Hanna shared about her drug-induced journey from a good middle class upbringing to staying in the Salvation Army shelter. She also shared how she got back from there, and emphasized how important it was for her journey to have those helping agencies there for support.
The crowds then went back to building their box cities, and I spent some time in the lounge chair I had strategically remembered to bring at the last minute. Many of our volunteers who had been there since noon left, the band loaded up their equipment, people stacked chairs, and things began to wind down. Kids behind my box were playing football and another group was playing soccer.
As I looked around I actually thought, "Hey, this isn't so bad, I just might be able to do this." Then I thought about my family. I could probably live in a box if I had to--if I was alone. But being a father and a husband--that would make being homeless a lot tougher. All the challenges of living hand to mouth with no place to call "home" would be all the more amplified with 3 other individuals (2 of them children) I feel responsible to care for. I thought about the affect this would have on my self-esteem--"I can't even take care of my family" a voice would echo in my head (another mental note: what a teachable event for families to experience together, we need to invite more families next year).
Then it came time to turn out the lights and lay down. My so-called "flat, comfortable" spot turned out to have a hump of dirt right where I had planned to sleep--so I spent the night on a dirt hump that, despite my best efforts, could not be ignored. After the lights went out around 12:30 (some poor girl kept coming up to me saying, "when are you going to turn the lights out, I'm tired1") things got fairly quiet. In all the merriment I think the brutal fact that "we are sleeping in boxes" was mostly avoided. Several groups did a wonderful job decorating their boxes, bringing in blow-up palm trees, lights, adding graffiti to their box, and even building a box "cul-de-sac."
But as things got quiet, I think it began to sink in. For a night, it was something most of us survived. But what if a night turned into a week? A month? A year? Anderson County identified right at 500 homeless school children in districts 1-5 last year. Some stayed with relatives, some moved from friend to friend, some slept in cars, some stayed in tents on land that wasn't theirs.
At 5:00 am I gave up and declared the hump the victor. I spent some time with several youth from Boulevard Baptist who had stayed up all night, only to fall asleep outside at 5:00 am. Breakfast followed not long after--wonderful chicken biscuits from Chick-Fil-A, homemade grits, milk, juice, the works. Boy, did that taste good. Andrew Gibson from the Lot Project came and spoke that morning and I spent the majority of the morning talking with him and Nick Pratt from bocim.org, "dreaming big" about what we learned about homelessness and how we can do better next year.
Later that morning, after everyone else left, I spent most of the day hauling all the cardboard from the box city to our recycling center-- it took me 3 trips! As I loaded the crushed and broken-down boxes on the truck, I thought about all the people who attended, and hoped that they learned something about what it might be like to be homeless.
We raised close to $3,000 for Family Promise, but most importantly, I think we challenged people to be aware of the plight of the homeless. We forget about how difficult that might be. I think of the scene from The Blind Side where Leigh Anne Touhy invites Michael Oher into his new bedroom and after an approving smile he says, "I've never had one before."
"What your own room?" Leigh Anne asks, "No, a bed." Michael replies. It is at that moment Leigh Anne realizes just how much she has been given, and that making room in her over-sized McMansion was a very small sacrifice compared to what Michael Oher faced in his life.
In the end, our program is about the kids. Regardless of their parents' decisions--good and bad, the kids have never been given an option. The children in our program never got to choose their circumstances, and the small sacrifices we make to show them there are people who care doesn't compare to what they have sacrificed already in their little time on this planet.
Grace & Peace,
Mark A. Wise
Network Director
Family Promise of Anderson County
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