I have been sick nearly all week. So much so that I haven’t gone to the gym (and that’s how you know that I’m truly sick). Yesterday I woke up with more of a sore throat and cough, along with feeling very lethargic. I had work to do, so I chose to get done what I could while going at a slower pace then usual. One of my chores was to do the grocery shopping, so I waited for mid-day so that I could go while the stores were not that busy.
As I was leaving Trader Joes I passed by a woman holding a sign that she was homeless and needed money. My first thought was that I didn’t have any smaller change bills to give her and my second thought was that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to hurry up and get home. However, there was also this significant pull in my heart to go back. So I pulled in another entrance, parked my car and walked over to her. The first thing I noticed was that she had beautiful blue eyes. I handed her some money and asked her if she was ok.
She started crying, so I sat down on the curb and listened to her. Her name is Dawn. Several months ago she left her husband because he was abusive. She went back to her previous husband to try and work things out because he is the father of her children. In the middle of physical intimacy he (the father of her children) died on top of her. He had a heart attack. She was traumatized.
With no other place to go she returned to her current husband who had recently kicked his girlfriend out. Apparently the kicking out of the girlfriend hadn’t gone so well and had left his landlord weary of any other people living there. So in order to stay there she had to hide under the table. Which she did for hours at a time. It finally became too much and she left. In her mind, this wasn’t abusive it was just that he would forget about her under the table and she would fall asleep.
She has been living on the streets on and off since. She has tried to get in to shelters, yet many of them are at capacity (I know this to be true because of the volunteer work that I’ve been doing every week). She had the opportunity to go with a friend; however, he had come in to some money and was using it to buy drugs and she didn’t want to get caught up in that. She was clearly feeling broken with no options. My heart broke for her. I could see the years of pain and heartache reflected in her eyes. She was articulate yet hopeless.
I was concerned for her safety. For her she said the hardest part is the looks that people give her when they drive by. Some shake their head at her and she feels humiliated. Some approach her and ask how she got there, yet, she feels overwhelmed and not certain where to start in her story. That bothers her more than feeling unsafe.
I gave her the number for the organization that I volunteered (and now work for one day a week) called Safe Passage. They are not a shelter, yet they work with women who have been in domestic violence to support them in getting on their feet, getting a job, finding an apartment, counseling, job training, dental and plastic surgeon resources (for severe abuse cases) and much more. Dawn has a cell phone because her oldest son pays for it for her. She has that and some clothes in a shopping cart. I told her who to talk to and that they could also help her find a shelter with room. I could see her struggling to believe that it could be possible for her. Then I prayed with her and spoke life in to her. How God sees her and that God doesn’t want her under a table or on the street.
In my heart, I knew in that moment that it had to be her decision to make the phone call. I could not do it for her as much as I wanted to. That the power it would give her to reach out would make all the difference in her life. I pray that she does make that call and I’m glad that I didn’t listen to my excuses.
