Anastasia’s Road to Recovery
By Molly Balison
Anastasia Parkinson never expected to be dropped off at a homeless shelter as a 20 year old woman. Her father’s distaste for the race of the man she chose to date boiled over into rage that led him to kicking his daughter out. The young woman moved to Boise to reconnect with her family, not be distanced even further from them.
She spent the next nine years at Interfaith Sanctuary. In those early days, Anastasia didn’t feel safe or supported. “We didn’t have lockers outside where we could keep our belongings safe, we didn’t have a security desk where we had to go through a metal detector which also keeps us safe. People used to be able to do whatever they wanted to,” she said.
Her hope was renewed when she met Jodi Peterson-Stigers, a passionate volunteer who made Anastasia feel seen. Jodi started the Interfaith Sanctuary House Band — a space for guests to share their voices through music. Anastasia, raised in a church choir, found healing as the lead singer. Project Sing was like her therapy where she could engage with other music lovers, sing her heart out and let her worries slip away during their one hour rehearsal.
“[Jodi] started changing my life then without even knowing how much it meant to me and the other guests here that were in the band and our community would need it,” she said.
The House Band’s story was even covered by Fox9 after a performance with jazz musician Curtis Stigers at Interfaith’s Extreme Holiday Extravaganza. For a time, it seemed like things were turning around.
But addiction still loomed. Parkinson battled with substance use that cost her years with her family. Holding back tears, Parksinson said, “Looking back at pictures and not seeing me in them motivates me, because I want to be in my family’s lives...I want a good, quality life and drugs and alcohol do not help with your health by any means – they destroy your body.”
After five years of sobriety, she relapsed. “Everything piles up. You either get through it or give in,” she said. At her lowest, she learned about Project Recovery, Interfaith’s on-site addiction recovery and mental health program designed to provide a safe, supportive environment where participants can heal, stabilize and rebuild their lives.
Project Recovery was different from any other program because it wasn’t run by people who only studied addiction — it was built by those who had lived it. Terrance Sharrer, the program’s director, was once unhoused himself. With a master’s degree in Health Sciences and a minor in addiction studies, Sharrer brings both clinical expertise and lived experience to the program. “I know the science,” he said, “but what people really want to hear is that it’s going to be okay.”
Each morning at 10 a.m., Sharrer leads a recovery group from a portable classroom lined with motivational mantras and practical tools. He teaches guests to recognize triggers, offers compassionate support, and helps them rebuild from relapse without shame. “We’re unconditionally here for people…” Sharrer said, “They’re here at the shelter for a reason. It’s usually a traumatic reason... And we’ll help them every step of the way.
We’ll help them for life.” He encourages his programmers not to dwell on their mistakes, but to lift their heads and reconnect with the reasons they chose sobriety in the first place. Many are surprised when they come to Sharrer, honestly admitting they’ve slipped — and he doesn’t kick them out. Instead, he reminds them that recovery isn’t a straight path. He believes in second chances. More importantly, he believes in the people who show up every day, trying.
“Watching him not give up on people in my program who have slipped time and time again, but they still keep coming because they really want sobriety. Seeing how he handled it was an inspiration for me to still stay strong,” she said. She returned to the emergency shelter to get back on her feet before moving
into her own place. In the six years she spent away, she rented a house, held a job, paid her own bills, and learned to enjoy her own company. In March 2024, she landed back at Interfaith Sanctuary to regain stability. “Most people don’t realize everyone is just one paycheck away from being homeless,” she said.
In May 2025, Anastasia entered Renaissance Refuge, a faith-based outpatient treatment center, where she’s involved in a 8-10 month program with the end goal of having a job and a place to live. While she’s missed by her Interfaith community, they’re proud of how far she’s come.
“I have a fighting chance now,” she said. “We have opportunities to get jobs, get better, and not be stuck in addiction — all because of Jodi.”
Anastasia’s story is still unfolding. But now, with a strong support system and hard-won self-belief, she’s walking forward — one hopeful step at a time.
Even though she felt defeated from messing up time and time again, her hope was restored when someone cared enough to give her a second chance. When given the opportunity to better herself, she rose to the occasion. Her story continues and each step will hopefully lead her to a life of health and happiness.
Word on the Street
PO BOX 9334
511 S Americana Blvd
Boise, ID 83702
EDITOR IN CHIEF
Molly Balison
WOTS WRITERS/COLUMNISTS
Bo Gerri Graves
Viola Crowley
Nate Dodgson
Eric Endsley
Jodi Peterson-Stigers
Molly Balison
Nicki Vogel
WOTS Historian
Nicky MacAislin
WOTS STREET PHOTOGRAPHERS
Heather Baird
Gypsy Wind
Eric Endsley
ART COLLECTIVE DIRECTOR
Chris Alvarez
CONTACT THE EDITOR
To submit story ideas or community articles, please send request and information to molly@interfaithsanctuary.org
POETRY CORNER
Alone Fear
By Julie Loomis
Shaken, battered. Broken, shattered.
Scared and confused. Bared and misused.
Nowhere to turn.
I’m left to burn.
It’s all unknown.
I’m all alone.
My thoughts intrude.
I’m in a mood. Where do I go?
I do not know.
Truth has shown, I’m all alone.
Email your poems to molly@interfaithsanctuary.org to be featured in our poetry corner
By Molly Balison
This is a rediscovered poem that I wrote in 8th grade. At this time in my life, I was a fearful ball of anxiety trying to cope by searching for comfort in faith.
Why do we lie in anxious wait For trouble to strike again?
Because fear engulfs our minds, Silently, from its darkened den. It prowls and oozes
From every corner near and far. Clawing us with its brawny grip
Leaving its mark with a painful scar. We cry in utter anguish
Pleading for someone to hear, But we can’t make out our own screams
Over all our sweat and burdened tears. Why do we worry
About what tomorrow will bring? Will the glistening sun rise? Will the melodious birds sing?
Our God is all-knowing
And He sees our circumstances. He has a purpose for this pain. So why worry, He’s given you chances.
For if we find hope
Through the One who saves, He will comfort us dearly. Even in our worst of days.
My Journey Into homelessness
By Julie Loomis
Looking back to the year and a half I have highs and lows. I have made some good friends and lost or had to walk away from others. I have tried to take advantage of the program offered for wellbeing and also art. So my highs are learning I could paint and have a way to bring beauty to others. I have discovered my voice through the newspaper and Just Sing. Writing for this paper has let me give a voice to myself and other homeless people. Just Sing is a weekly group that gives me friendships and joy. I started to also get back into photography, this gives me peace.
My lows have been being homeless and dealing with my mental health. So many people that are homeless struggle with mental illness. My health has declined and many homeless have severe health issues that keep them from working. My health and depression really spiraled out of control. I was finally sent to Lifeways. This is a place to heal mentally with a great staff. I have been to two other facilities that were not as great. I realized I have been under a cloud for years. I struggled everyday not to harm myself. I didn’t care about my physical health. I finally had the right medication to finally see the sun. It is such an amazing feeling to not be so depressed. I still have some other issues but
this is a huge breakthrough.
I am back writing stories and all my other creative projects. I am in an outpatient group to keep me grounded and attending a wellbeing group. There are so many reasons why we become homeless and we don’t fit into just one box. The rental market makes it hard to find housing. There is no place for mentally ill people to recover, just the homeless shelter. I am lucky to have such a wonderful support system here but it is still a real struggle. I just want a place for my son and I to live together. I hope to stay positive no matter where this journey takes me.
Photo by Gypsy Wind
Photo by Julie Loomis
Photo by Molly Balison
Photo by Justin Tomlinson
Terry Reilly Tips: Saying What You Mean
WOTS
By Kayla G
DEEDS ON THE STREET
Being clear and direct about your needs is part of “assertive communication”.
Assertive doesn’t mean being loud or aggressive. It’s about honoring your truth while respecting someone else’s. It’s the middle ground between silence and blowing up. And for many of us, like peoplepleasers, or folks that avoid conflict, being assertive can feel terrifying.
it’s not about demanding, it’s confidently stating our needs.
Assertive communication might look like making direct eye contact, standing up straight, and using a calm voice.
Assertiveness might sound like:
• “I’m not comfortable with you coming over.”
• “I need some time to think about it.”
• “I hear you, but I also need you to hear me.”
But here’s the truth: your needs matter. Your boundaries matter. And your voice is allowed to take up space.
When we speak assertively,
DEEDS ON THE STREET WOTS COMMUNITY PARTNERS
Update on Interfaith Sanctuary’s State Street Shelter
By Jodi Peterson
• “I’m not able to take you to the store today. I’m tired and have had a long week.”
And guess what? You can say all of that *with love.* You can
be direct and kind. You can set a boundary and still hold compassion. You can disagree and still stay connected. It might feel awkward at first. You might shake, stutter, second-guess. That’s okay. You’re unlearning decades of silence. You’re healing through your voice. And every time you practice, you show yourself, and the people around you, that healthy communication doesn’t have to hurt.
So, this month, try saying ‘the thing.’ Gently, firmly, with all your heart. Your voice is worthy of being heard. Just as it is.
In October, the Idaho Supreme Court overturned Interfaith Sanctuary’s Conditional Use Permit (CUP), ruling that the City of Boise had committed a procedural error when it overturned Planning & Zoning’s original denial of the CUP. In response, the City recognized the need to revise the ordinance that allowed this to happen, clarifying that final authority on major land use decisions should rest with elected leaders.
introduced the revised ordinance, which passed unanimously through Planning & Zoning and was then adopted by City Council officially becoming law on May 19th. This important update paved the way for Interfaith Sanctuary to submit a new Conditional Use Permit, which we officially submitted on Tuesday, May 27th.
DEEDS ON THE STREET
We now await our hearing date with Planning & Zoning and will share all the details with you as soon as we have them along with how you can help through advocacy and support!
Friends Feeding Friends
By Molly Balison
Every other Sunday, a group called Friends Feeding Friends sets up tables, pop up tents, plates and home prepared meals outside the Phoenix building. In the summertime, one might see a buffet of ingredients for cold cut sandwiches—lettuce, tomatoes, onions, cheese, mustard, and five types of meat to choose from—along with desserts and bottles of water or soda.
Around 100-130 meals in the winter and 160-170 meals in the summer are served from the hands of a gracious group of friends to give their homeless neighbors not only full bellies, but full hearts.
A little over a year ago, Lars Hansen, organizer of Friends Feeding Friends, looked at his wife Deserie and asked what they should do with their time. “Let’s feed the homeless”, she responded.
The couple remembered riding their motorcycles to the nearest McDonalds where they purchased 40-50 hamburgers to give to homeless folks along the streets during the Street Vibrations motorcycle rally in Reno. They remembered the joy from serving others and seeing smiles on people’s faces when they unexpectedly received a meal.
“If you think about it, we’re all a short time away from being homeless…these people didn’t choose to be this where they were just dealt a bad hand they’re playing the hand they were dealt. If we can help them out by making them feel a little better for a while.”
Lars made a Facebook post describing his mission to feed his unhoused neighbors and received replies from 8-10 of his friends who banded together to help make and serve meals alongside the Hansens.
“If you want to help serve folks and make somebody’s day a little brighter, then by all means come down,” Hansen said.
Staying true to their word, the City of Boise
Madelyn Finds a Home
By Julie Loomis
I have written a few stories about my friend Madelyn. She is very much the daughter I always wanted. If you have seen her journey, it is incredible. She has blossomed into a sober, responsible, and beautiful woman.
Four years ago she was a drunk, almost destroying her liver which kept her homeless for 16 years. Until the day she passed out on the lawn near Interfaith Sanctuary and Terrence Sharrer came to talk to her. Maddie said she begged him not to let her die. She started the recovery program and took a few stumbles to finally get sober. She began to find the real woman and slowly started to change. She not only struggled with alcohol but also disabling mental health. She had tucked herself away in her alcoholism and didn’t really socialize with others. Alcohol was the most important thing in her life. When I
met Maddie she had some rough edges. At 6 feet and 4 inches tall she wasn’t real feminine. As you will see in the photos, she has come a long way, baby.
Through her time at Interfaith, she has touched many people including the staff and her program family. She really made special connections with the women in her dorm. We helped her find dresses, sassy black boots, and pink tennies. We helped her slow down and appreciate being a woman. She not only graduated from the recovery program, she graduated from Interfaith’s lady program. Madelyn, with the help of Stacy and CATCH, has a studio of her own. One of her friends at Cathedral of the Rockies, Jessica, spent time and money to get Maddie her dream studio. Then Jessica had a crew to set it all up. She got food and other items from friends and a few neighbors. This is because Maddie is a unicorn and pure sunshine. We are all proud of you Madelyn Darling.
VOICE & VISIBILITY
To Be Seen and Heard Transgender Life
By Nate Dodgson
Being an introvert, I don’t often feel seen and heard, at least not to the same degree as “normies”. I’ve come to learn the importance, however, of doing just so. To be seen and heard means inclusion and dignity in one’s life. I spent 16 years completely isolated in my alcoholism and life became miserable- and I’m still trying to recuperate to this day. I’ve come a long way in opening up and expressing myself which is a daily intention. I also suffer from depression and anxiety. Drinking away my adult life up until a year ago probably didn’t help.
Social anxiety is also a form of disability or hindrance in my growth. It’s as if my mind stops and the thoughts go blank when I’m trying to socialize, especially with people I don’t know yet. This is only nervousness. And just like anything else, it improves with work and practice. The thing that forced me to finally open up and express myself was treatment and group settings. We would have classes with five, ten or maybe more participants which required just that: participation. My social anxiety is driven by fear. Fear of making a mistake and being judged. I have to be brave and face my fears head on if I am to have any chance of prevailing and growing. Life is about being seen and heard, to have visibility and voice.
I like to go for jogs on the greenbelt. It takes my mind off negativity and my self-loathing, a sort of temporary escape, not destructive and dangerous if you compare it to drinking alcohol. That’s when I lose control. I just can’t seem to get enough. And then the aftermath feels like hell. Jogging keeps me focused and mindful of my current situation. I can think, reflect, and be at peace with myself and nature. It’s important to stay active in order to defeat depression and anxiety.
I’m working to rebuild confidence and faith. Most times, I feel weak and powerless. I’m hoping and praying with time that I can be more secure in myself and love myself again. There’s a lot of pain and frustration, and it’s difficult to keep battling day after day. I’m working on filling this void and emptiness inside me. I need to be seen and heard just like everyone else.
I’m amazed at how things are so vast and endless in this world and universe. It makes me feel humbled by the sheer size of time. The earth, sky, stars, and planets. All towering above and around us. And we exist.
WOTS is a great way to be seen and heard. A community voice and vision. WOTS recounts peoples’ experiences and stories and readers share in both the strength and the hope. A place of encouragement and honest testimony. We are blessed to have such an outlet and challenge the prejudice and stigma towards homelessness. It means a lot to have this media and publication platform by which we can build each other up and achieve transparency within the community. We are stronger together and WOTS makes this possible.
DEI Halted: Now What?
By Nate Dodgson
On February 12, 1946, Sgt. Isaac Woodard, Jr., a black soldier who fought in WWII, was brutally beaten and viciously poked in the eyes by police officers. Woodard was permanently blinded by the attack. It all started when Woodard boarded a Greyhound bus en route to his home in South Carolina. Woodard asked the white bus driver to stop the bus so he could use a restroom. The driver did stop the bus and sent for police; it was then, Woodard was targeted and encountered.
Several months later, news of the incident reached President Harry S. Truman at the White House. Truman, who served in WWI, was sickened to learn of Woodard’s story. Executive Orders 9980 and 9981 were signed on July 26, 1948, in response to the incident. Truman’s action was one of the earliest attempts by the government to implement policies which were designed to check workplace discrimination. History reveals that the diversity, equity, and inclusion movements have been going on since the founding of the nation. As U.S. laws and policies marginalized Black people, Indigenous peoples, and women, early Americans fought battles in effort to combat such cruel and oppressive measures.
President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated on April 15, 1865. The “Great Emancipator”
Testosterone
By Critter
Considering that June is men’s health month, there’s a new form of physiological rehabilitation called “ Testosterone Therapy”. But before I jump into this, please understand that nine times out of ten this type of therapy is for middle aged humans, not anything
By Julie Loomis
The LGBTQ community has faced discrimination forever. Times seem to turn around a bit in the recent decade. Until recent political environment has made a target against LGBTQ. The biggest hit lately is the transgender community. Funny how a government removed diversity because people should be hired on merit. Yet thousands of women and men are losing their job in the military because they are transgender nothing to do with their skill level.
This is a dark time in history and now there is no tolerance for a flag representing diversity. A rainbow flag that gives hope to many. It is a beautiful symbol to bring us light. Mayor McLean should be applauded for standing up for all her constituents. She now has a petition
was replaced by Andrew Johnson. During President Johnson’s administration, civil rights enforcement fell by the wayside and states, instead, started enacting Jim Crow laws, which segregated and restricted voting for Black people. Black people were second-class citizens and separated from White people in every facet of society, including transportation, churches, public facilities, and schools. The Jim Crow laws would dictate for more than 50 years.
In the mid-1950’s, the American Civil Rights Movement would spur the people to further wrestle with such hot issues and controversial ideals. In 1961, President John F. Kennedy ordered “affirmative action to ensure that applicants are employed... without regard to their race, creed, color, or national origin”. Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, George Floyd- three names and killings which would reignite the nation’s attention regarding racial inequality. Some of America’s largest corporations instituted DEI initiatives in response to the outcry and nationwide protests.
Upon his return to the White House in 2025, President Donald Trump called for an end to all such programs, labeling them as “illegal and immoral”. I wanted to know why or how there can be any opposition or argument against DEI programs. After all, isn’t it fair to assume everyone wants equal rights and dignity as
under 35 years of age. The basic gist of this is such: if a man has symptoms such as chronic fatigue, over-eating, etc, he can go to a doctor and request a shot of testosterone. Testosterone can help women as well.
The benefits for men include bone density, fat distribution, muscle strength and mass, facial
We see many homeless people in transition having to struggle not only homelessness but finding ways to pay for their hormone treatment too. They are not able to function in a society where they feel unsafe. This fear keeps them from enjoying life which should not be happening to citizens of the USA. What is a transgender? Wikipedia says,”A transgender person is someone whose gender identity differs from typically associated with the sex they were assigned at birth”. This term doesn’t say it’s a choice. U.S. News states that more than 50% of youths that are transgender or non binary across the U.S. have considered suicide in the past year. This is who they are and taking away their rights will not change their need to have their identity changed. This a vulnerable population that has so much to deal with and having the government take away the medical needs is cruel. Many transgenders are rejected from their families and are left homeless. This is a difficult thing they live with most of their lives. Most transgender have medicine to help them transition and some will have some surgery to match their sex.
Only about 1/3 of the population will do a full transition and most are over 21 years. The population that do a full transformation only
I hope that people would get to know the LGBTQ and see they work, have families, have feelings and just want to enjoy life to the fullest without discrimination. Go to the many events that the LGBTQ have and get to know these wonderful gifted and bright people and then you will understand why our Mayor McLean deserves appreciation for flying the rainbow flag.
their fellow man? The Supreme Court ruled (54) in Regents of the University of California vs. Bakke (1978) that quotas may not be used to hire minority applicants if white applicants are denied a chance to compete. This was an effort to avoid “reverse discrimination”.
Backlash against DEI training intensified in recent years due to the nature of implementation. Individuals claim they are now being discriminated against for being white, that DEI training paints White people as inherently racist.
I believe Melinda Briana Epler, a strategic communications leader, says it best,“Diversity is bringing people of different identities and backgrounds to the table. Inclusion is encouraging them to speak at the table.… Equity is making sure whether that table is right for everybody and, if not, rebuilding the table so everyone can thrive.”
Diversity may include and relate to gender, age, race, ethnicity, physical ability, neurodiversity, and sexual orientation among other varieties of factors- ensuring everyone in sum represents different portions of the broader community. Equity relies on provisions for everyone, not to be confused with equality, which is equal treatment and same experiences. Inclusion is authentic belonging as well as compassion and kindness for self and others.
and body hair, red blood cell production, sex drive and sperm production. The benefits for women include improved libido, increased energy and stamina, mood stabilization, and improved bone density.
I was fascinated by this information when I learned about it. I thought testosterone was
What happens now that affirmative action, particularly that involving DEI, is nullified and no longer as relevant? It’s hard to have faith in a system which backtracks on one of its finest fundamentals, which was to better and enrich the workplace for all people of the community. What was enacted originally to counteract historical and systemic disparities is now put on the backburner and, in turn, demonized. I believe people need to continue to be educated and made aware of the very real subtleties and slippery slope of “unconscious bias”. If legislators can mend and appropriate the training methodology as well as presentation of the materials, there may be use for a revised, more objective output of the initiative and program.
just for sports. Access to this therapy is as easy as asking your doctor. They will be able to assess your levels in your body to see if this type of therapy is something you can use. Make sure that you do your research with your doctor, or else you do ruin the risk of possibly hurting yourself; just like any other medications.
Winding Path Grounded by Water
By Bo By Viola Crowley
We all have the best sayings… but what will you honestly do when adversity, challenges, and life come at you? It’s hard to look at life through carnal eyes and a fleshly being and somehow try to understand anything when we are of spirit! I know my God and believe fully in the Lord, yet I say this and still battle and have moments of uncertainty in my day-to-day life and purpose. I believe in my God and accept all challenges and setbacks as opportunities to learn and grow, but only because I am aware of and prepared for the storm. One day, the forecast told me it was going to be a bright, sunny day so I planned a special gathering and invited everyone I knew. I was so excited and overwhelmed with joy that I started inviting strangers. I prepared and thought out every detail. pulling out all the bells and whistles. But just as the event was set to start, it began to rain. I was still optimistic and continued looking forward to the spectacular show. But as things progressed, I noticed that people were not showing up. But if I’m here and have prepared for this of course they will come, right?
But as time went on I noticed that people still didn’t show up. What a disappointment and failure I felt. How can I go on? How can I continue? As I lay with my head down and began to pack up and store all the wasted things that I had prepared I felt discouraged. I feel disappointed, let down, and confused. Yet I still go through the process of properly storing all of the excessive accumulation of things.
My journey leaves me with many doubts and few resources —- I’m tapped out. I remain steady because it’s the only thing I know to do. With my face planted in the sand, I slowly consumed my resources, However, not once did I run out. Somehow I always had enough for my journey and even more to spare for others. Then suddenly a light comes on in my mind and I realize I have always had what I needed.
The event was always meant to set me and others up with enough. Maybe you’re on that road and wondering where to go next or when the event will start. Just know that the only way to prepare is to do it in advance and trust that everything will fall into place in its own time. All glory be to God. One person plants, another person waters, but only God makes the increase happen.
I feel strongly connected to nature – especially water. I have always felt this way going back to about age 10. I grew up playing in the creekside rivers. Even in the winter I would hang out at the swimming hole. I would go up the mountain in the winter to go to the hot spring. As an adult, I would feel lost and out of sorts in a city. When I lived on the South Coast of Oregon, I would go to the beach every day, even in the winter and rain. I would spend anywhere from five minutes to 5 hours at the beach. I’ve been to every beach between Crescent City, California to Coos Bay, Oregon that I was physically able to get to.
Now that I’m in Boise, I like to go to the water feature near the main entrance of Kathyrn Albertsons park. Being in nature grounds me and melts my stress and worries.
Who Cares?
By Viola Crowley
Are we all different? Sure. But definitely not in ways that should cause strife. We may have differences but we are all the same. So why are SO many people causing problems for others because they have differences such as hair, eyes, facial features, height, weight or shoe size? Where are we from, gender or sexual identities, religion or other belief systems? Who cares? If a man wants to marry a man, does it affect you? If someone was born with male genitalia but knows they were meant to be female and decides to get gender affirming care, does it hurt you? If two people of the same gender decide to adopt, who cares as long as they can provide the basics plus love, support and positive attention? Where are they from? Who cares? What do they believe? Who cares? What do they look like? Who cares? Any other difference? Who cares? I certainly don’t and you shouldn’t either. Who are we to judge others? Let me ask one more time just in case you didn’t catch it the first time: Who are we to judge others? I mean seriously! It’s not our place to judge others or their perceived differences.
Road to Redemption Part 6: Get up and Walk
By Bo
The only way I can describe my state of mind after being in a shelter one full day, was that I was lost and still not believing my current situation. I couldn’t even focus. I was in shock and like a deer in the headlights. Now let me explain…I’ve seen lots of homeless and alcoholics and people who suffered from mental health. Sitting at that day shelter, that’s all I saw and I ended up talking to someone.
This man had no legs and was in a wheelchair. I shared what had happened that day with him but didn’t give the details surrounding it. We spoke for a good four days and we began to have a few good conversations.
I can remember this particular day like it was yesterday. I had lunch even though the
food was not desirable, but I had already gone a day without really eating and was starving. I hit a wall to where I had too much pride to eat but was drained and needed some kind of substance. Me and this man in the wheelchair had a few talks about God and he definitely knew the word. As I was eating, I overheard him having a conversation with someone about the Bible.
He started quoting Matthew 9:1-6 that says “Jesus stepped into a boat, crossed over and came to his own town. Some men brought to him a paralyzed man, lying on a mat. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the man, ‘Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven.’ At this, some of the teachers of the law said to themselves, ‘This fellow is blaspheming!’
Knowing their thoughts, Jesus said, ‘Why do you entertain evil thoughts in your hearts? Which is easier: to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up and walk’? But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins. So he said to the paralyzed man, “Get up, take your mat and go home.’”
I knew this verse well but it was the 1st time I heard it from a man who had no legs. So at that moment I could feel for the man and I finally understood the verse knowing that I could not make the man grow new legs and walk nor could I forgive this man’s sins. However I asked what would be easier to tell this man to walk or your sins are forgiven. This really humbled me to the point of breaking down and crying on my plate of food.
At that moment I knew I had to do something.
About two weeks into staying at the shelter, I decided to join some of the programs offered. I could serve in the food program and cook for the other guests. I also noticed a poster for a construction class. I don’t even like construction, but I signed up for the class to pass the time. I was told it wasn’t ideal to do both since it would be timeconsuming, but with persistence, I could try. So I did. Programming was a way of using time constructively.
I also met a homie at this time whose name I won’t disclose... but he was fresh out of prison and for a few days, we both just watched each other. We spoke only after the introduction to the construction class, but we ended up growing closer. We would chill every day and I convinced him to get into the food program too.
I donated plasma twice a week as a way to earn some money. I saved money weekly since I had nothing to spend money on. Then I convinced someone from the day shelter to give me a letter stating I was in the shelter so I could pay for the fees to go to the YMCA. I also asked if the staff could do the same for my homie. The staff member laughingly said “Hell yeah. To get you two out from around here, I’ll do it.” I think it was a joke but there was also some truth to it.
At this point, I had been in the shelter for a little over a month and in both programs for about two weeks. I love cooking so it was no issue serving food out of a food truck. I put a speaker outside the window so people could hear the oldies I played — good soul music. People told me that they were happy when I played music. This was a way for me
to help people forget about their reality –including my own. For that short period, a person could think about their childhood, and remember being in their own place, at a BBQ or a function rather than the reality of being homeless and in a shelter. Seeing the genuine feeling on people’s faces made it feel like community service and gave me a good feeling.
Now my week was filled. In the early morning I went to construction class, then to the gym in the afternoon, then had lunch and started preparing food for dinner. This was a real schedule that helped me to keep my sanity. When I started the construction class I was a bit overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to properly read a tape measure which was important for getting the proper size wood and making the right cuts.
I’m a Taurus so I can be stubborn and bullheaded. Not to sound cocky, but I do excel in almost everything I do. So the things that don’t come easily frustrate me and I get mad or quit. I couldn’t quit or give in on this one though. After four weeks, I passed the class and built some amazing chairs.
Through social media and content creation, I met people who were going through personal struggles in their lives. I may have only told two people that I was homeless. I began to write daily tips. Tips and just good advice on life. It still made no sense how many people would personally message me and ask for advice or tell me how something I said impacted their lives. Yet here I was homeless and my own life had become unmanageable. But I couldn’t stop, quit, or give up. It inspired me.
Home for the 4th
By Gerri Graves
I stepped off the bus wearing the same dress I’d worn for the past four days. The weather was hotter than I had expected and the kind of muggy that never lets the surface of your skin dry.
I’d come to New Orleans for the week of Halloween, with a suitcase full of clothes meant for the fall. It was not my first visit to the Big Easy and I reprimanded myself for not researching the current weather conditions before my flight.
Being that I had always traveled on a microscopic budget, there was no wiggle room for the extra clothing expenditure. I settled for canceling one night at The Dungeon and one night at Pat O’Brien’s and bought myself a dress I would live in for the next six days. Washing it by hand at the end of the day and hanging it in the shower to dry overnight.
The one thing I wouldn’t give up was my trip to see the plantations. If it meant washing that dress every night, I would do it. No way was I missing those massive white oaks along the narrow pathway that led to the entrance of Oak Alley.
Anne Rice fan, remember? A portion of ‘Interview with the Vampire’ was filmed there. At least, that’s why I originally visited this plantation.....now it was more nostalgic. I’ve been visiting these grounds since my 20s. Wrapping my arms around those trees and sitting amongst its buckling and twisted roots, made me feel like I was being hugged right back. Smelling the scent of the Mississippi flowing just across old River Road coupled with the perfume of the greenery within the expansive grounds, made my tummy do flipflops.
It’s history I could touch and feel. My overly abundant, whimsical imagination would envision the people and scenarios that might have played out over the centuries. I’m getting butterflies just writing this.
No way was I going to trade that experience for a second or third set of summer clothes, so I sought out those little tour booths located here and there, within the French quarter.
I had my favorite plantations...and I looked for a tour that encompassed all of them: San Francisco? Check. Destrehan? Check. Oak Alley? Check. Nottoway? Check......Oh, wait. There was a new one I hadn’t seen before. Hadn’t heard of it before.
I asked the attendant about this new plantation added to the tours.....The Whitney. She explained this plantation was dedicated to the slaves’ perspectives and their daily life working on an active sugar plantation. It was an overall peek into their wretched existence, laced with personal stories of the men, women and children who worked on this plantation. This was something I must see.
I booked my tour for 2 days in the future, paid the attendant, grabbed my tour brochure and tickets, and made my way to the Cafe Du Monde for an afternoon sugar fix.
Two days and two more trips to the Cafe Du
Monde, I found myself stepping out of that bus and following the guide to the entrance of the The Whitney. Already fatigued from labored breathing that felt like sucking liquid air through a straw, I welcomed the airconditioned gift shop while we waited for the property tour guide to begin our tour.
When she arrived we exited the comfy AC, and strolled out, once again, into the hellscape that was Southern Louisiana weather. Whilst walking out to the plantation proper, she began to tell us stories of the people who worked this plantation and the horrors they experienced. Some are so horrific, that they are not fit to be included within this publication.
What struck me then, and still sticks with me today, is viewing the luxurious plantation first, with all it’s upscaled amenities that point in time allowed, complete with extravagant furnishings and accouterments their station in society demanded, and then walking to where the slaves were kept.
Barely a shack, they were generally a one-room accommodation with a porch meant to sleep entire families. That is......the children they were allowed to keep. Most were snatched from their mothers and auctioned off like cattle.
I fell back on the tour and stayed to look through every building. These buildings were where children were made, born and where, unfortunately, many of them died.
The lumber of the construction was most likely cypress which grew in the swamps surrounding New Orleans proper and could be harvested for next to nothing, but slave labor. Ironically, it is the durability of this wood which is resistant to rot, water, mold and insect infestation, that allows these buildings to stand to this very day. Defiant in its age, it allows us a glimpse into the horrific history that America has yet to reconcile.....or fully embrace, for that matter. They are a testament to the crimes committed against our fellow human beings.
As my thoughts envisioned what these walls witnessed, I asked myself.....”Did they consider this home? Was there love and laughter? What did they cook? Was their fare directed by the plantation owners, or were they able to subsidize their meals with what could be gotten within the Mississippi? Were these bare wood walls their escape when the day was done.... or was it an extension of the horror, done in darkness?”
My wandering thoughts abruptly ceased when I realized how far behind I was from the group, and I hurriedly walked to catch up.
Later that night within the quarter, as I was meandering my way back to my B&B, it began to rain. I loved the rain and walked within it until the downpour became too heavy. I sat myself under a canopy just across from the Monteleone on Royal St. to wait it out. As luck would have it, a lone Saxophone player was playing to an audience of two just a few canopies down. The couple danced, in the rain, to the lazy, stylized drawl of the sax. A song slow enough, so the two could cozy up to a romantic slow dance.
I watched for a time until the witnessing of
the event brought about a pang of jealousy. I leaned back on the old building and listened. To the rain, the sax and the quiet whispers that the lovers exchanged.
I lived in that time, in that moment. Something our phone-crazed world has forgotten how to do. I can still feel how all these odd scenarios found me in that place, in that moment. How all the happy accidents worked it’s magic and placed me there. The rain. The long walk within the quarter, with no destination. My resting place was found out of necessity which placed me in front of one of the most beautiful buildings and on one of the most aesthetically prized streets our nation has to offer. The sax and the lovers were just the cherry on top. I closed my eyes and just listened to the rain slapping against the pavement, and thought about home. My home, and the home that wasn’t a home for many men, women and children that lived so long ago.
The recent anti-camping legislation caused a remembrance of this slice of my life.
Always amazing how bits of my past collide with current experiences. Like whatever hand is guiding me just outside the periphery of my timeline, is revisiting a lesson I’ve learned long ago. Scenarios that molded my individuality. Shaping opinions and strengthening my own set of morals and ideals. Simply put, my idea of home, may not be your idea of home, because of my personal experiences.
Finding a correlation of a plantation 2300 miles away from a homeless person who loves to wake up to the chirping of birds, the rushing of the river and the occasional mule deer that wanders through his makeshift encampment. It’s the only freedom he understands, apart from a world that doesn’t or will never, understand what that means to him.
Home to the individual is not just a building.
We visit buildings every day that are not our home. Nor are invisible property lines and the dwellings within them. Some might even consider them a sort of prison. If you’ve ever been in a bad marriage, you know precisely what I mean.
You work, play, shop, eat and visit buildings every day that are not your home.
Some spend years incarcerated in a building that would never be considered a home, no matter what your interpretation of home is. It’s also speculated that home is wherever your parents and siblings reside. Or a single person you love so mightily, that any scenario without them in it would be likened to a purgatory. Wherever they are, is where your home is. And while my sentimental nature yearns for that to be true somewhere out there, that unfortunately hasn’t been my experience. I’ve pondered over all the buildings I’ve resided
in. Although I have fond memories, not one of them has ever felt like home. No permanence to any of them. For me, the conventional idea of home is something I have no experience with.
For me....it’s conceptual. It’s evolving. It’s an enigma. And for those who make up the rank of the homeless community.......its elusive. Whatever ground we gain in obtaining a home, whatever our idea of what that home is, it’s constantly under threat. Either conditional or revoked with the threat of tickets that can’t be paid or even incarceration.
All of this, for me, collided a few weeks ago. I was speaking on a panel that evening, but before I did, I strolled amongst the words etched within the Anne Frank memorial and worked my brain to land sentences that would hopefully, make an impact. It was here I witnessed a black man....a veteran, openly weep at the phrases that moved him. He spoke of past and present treatment up to the week before when a total stranger called him that name.
This stranger was itching for a fight and spoke the word that he thought would allow him to beat on the subject of his disdain.
Instead of rising to his baiting, this man quietly walked on. Stoic and resigned to not leaving his fate in the hands of a jerk our country is currently letting slide.
He was good enough to fight and die in our wars, but not good enough to walk the streets, in his own country, unmolested.
Was this ever his home? Will it ever be his home? I wept with him over a pain I could never truly comprehend or understand. I listened to him as the tears welled, while he described the significance of these words etched in stone, to him.
What is the true meaning of home? To those that slept in a one-room shack, on a sugar plantation 2300 miles away? To the homeless community? To this kind, soft-spoken man who wept at words of equality.
I’ve thought of little else, these past few weeks. It’s hard to come to a conclusion, without the consideration of those who might feel differently. All I can do is take in my own experiences and draw my own conclusions. “Home”, I think, is freedom. Without dictation or forced opinions of what a construction, or lack thereof, symbolizes. Home....is the freedom to decide what home is to you. Freedom. Pure and simple. Home is wherever your mind and body reside, peacefully.
It may be amongst your kin or your special person. It may be that remote colonial in upstate New York. It may be a makeshift camp in the woods, by the river, where your alarm clock is the sound of geese arguing loudly when they think no one is watching. It may be a community where you feel welcomeregardless of your race, religion, sexuality, sex or fat bank account.
No one has the right to tell another what that home may be.
It’s not the first time people of privilege and power have designated for us what home should be and it won’t be the last.
I have no idea how to fix it. The best I can hope for is that somehow, something I write resonates on a deeper level with a person I’ll never meet, in a ‘home’ I’ll never visit. A singular changed mind is enough for me. It’ll have to be, as our country becomes more calloused to the needs of its impoverished and sidelined citizens, every single day.
No, I’m not the architect of the solution. Not sure that person exists.....but if you need me, I’ll be right here at home. Wherever that may be.