So
I haven’t written in awhile. Much has happened, but not sure how to best
articulate everything. I’ve decided to write about something sad, but because I
think it’s important.
Seth
and I recently got some beautiful fall pictures done by Good Company Photography (shameless plug. They are beautiful, and Seth and I love the family behind the business), and I have two thoughts
when I look at them:
1) I am so lucky, and I can’t believe this is my life.
2) I am such an over
privileged, Caucasian, middle-class, female, Christian-American.
I
also just read an article by Dr. Josephine Ensign, Nurse Practitioner and
Public Health Professor at the University of Washington. She wrote an article
about a period in her life that she was homeless. This very esteemed nurse
practioner, Johns Hopkins trained doctor of public health, professor at the
University of Washington…was once homeless. Please read her article entitled
“No Place Like Home(less)” here.
http://pulsevoices.org/archive/stories/379-there-s-no-place-like-home-less
And
after reading it, all I could think was how good I have it right now. Makes me
read my last post and just shake my head at how ridiculously unjustified my
feelings were. But after reading her article, I also reflected on a period in
my life that my sister and I were pseudo-homeless. Are there different degrees
of homelessness? I’m not sure. I think there are, and I think this counts as
homeless even though we weren’t ‘living under a bridge’ homeless. I won’t go
into the sob-story details, but the basic premise is our parents had a yucky
divorce, there was a month long period when I was in 7th grade, my
sister 9th, that we weren’t allowed to see our dad (for bogus
reasons) and it wasn’t healthy/safe for us to stay with our mother. So we left,
and we couch surfed on our own. Thankfully, I was able to stay with one
particular friend almost the entire month. My sister, though, did a little more
couch hopping. Regardless, we had to separate in order to find places to stay.
The middle school I was at is separated from the high school just by a football
field, and she would sneak out at lunch and come over to the middle school to
check on me most days she could. Some days she would bring lunch money for me.
Sometimes I wondered where it came from, but it didn't matter because we were
just trying to survive.
So
anyways, the purpose of this is not to make anyone feel pitty on me, because
lets face it. Look at the pictures posted below. I am blessed beyond measure.
My life is wonderful, full of so much love I could just explode.
But
here is my ending note. Everyone has a story. Even perfectly behaved little straight-A
student, student counsel president, sports stars 13-year-old Monica and 15-year-old Racheal
had a story. Create an environment of safety where people can share these stories and not
feel embarrassed or ashamed as Dr. Ensign describes in her article. She says it
this way: “Homelessness is chaotic, exhausting and soul-sucking.” Although it
was a brief period in my life, and I don’t remember much of my life as a
13-year-old, but I do remember that month. It was, in fact, chaotic, exhausting, and
soul-sucking. That could have been a very pivitol moment in my life, and
instead of getting ready to graduate with a masters degree that allows me to practice medicine at 23 years old with a
wonderful, healthy marriage and great relationships with my family, I
could easily be addicted to XYZ and perhaps have a few kids from a few
different men by now. But you know what made the difference? A few kind people
who had no idea what was going on but provided glimmers of encouragement and stability. So be
kind and encouraging. Only good and grace can come from it, and although generic to say, you never know what somebody else is going through.
Ensign,
J. (May 2014). No Place Like Home(less). Pulse: Voices
From the Heart of Medicine/ Albert Einstein College of Medicine/Montefiore
Medical Center.
