An Overview of My Place at the Shelter

As an introduction, let me explain my position at the shelter. The shelter I work at is a men's shelter. Across the street is the women's shelter, a place for homeless women and a sanctuary for victims of domestic violence. The women's shelter is open 24 hours/day, as a refuge for female victims of domestic violence.

The men's shelter is not such a haven and is understaffed as far as volunteers and employees go. The men's shelter is open from 7pm-8am, kept open by paid employees. On Friday mornings, the shelter is open from 8am-12noon, thanks to our volunteer. That is volunteer in the singular.

When any of the employees arrive at 7pm, most of the men are already waiting outside. They are allowed to wait outside the shelter as early as 6:45pm, any earlier and they are trespassing. I've been told most of the employees make the men wait outside until he turns of the alarm and is situated, ready for the men to come in.

It is often best, professionally, to take that minute or so to get ready. One day it just got too cold for me to make the men wait on me and one of the men told me, "You're a good man, Trevar. None of the other guys let us do this." I don't know what the other employees do. Maybe the other employees do what I do and maybe they don't. Maybe their idea of "too cold" is colder than mine (I am known for being quite intolerant of the cold). The smallest gesture can mean so much.

So the men enter the empty shelter and sign in. Sometimes I will write down their name and the time they entered. Other times I'll have them write it down. We have a metal-detecting wand to make sure they aren't bringing in any weapons. Apparently I was known for how I used the wand. One guy told me I never move the wand up far enough on the torso. He told me this after confessing and handing me a set of brass knuckles he brought into the shelter.

At this time, the employee conducts an interview with any newcomers to "verify" homelessness and take information that may or may not be shared with the Carolina Homelessness Information Network (CHIN), depending on the man's wishes. Whether or not we share the information, we still fill out the paperwork. I guess the paperwork is partly for our records and partly for our deal to get funding. I'm not completely positive, but that's what I was told, and so it is the story I tell. I love conducting these interviews, because I learn a lot about the men during this time. I close the office door, give them my attention, and let them tell stories if they so choose. And a lot of them do.

We get to fill out this paperwork a lot. Our shelter's program allows any homeless man to stay for up to 90 days before being exited for two weeks. After that two-week exit, he can stay a second time for 60 days. After another two-week exit, he can stay for 30 days. After the third stay, his time is up for the year unless the weather is cold and he enters our Winter Nights program, which allows any homeless person to use the shelter during cold (below 35ºF) and inclement weather (snow, ice, etc).

Out Winter Nights program is open to men during their two-week exit and after their third stay in the program. Men staying for Winter Nights sleep on couches and cots, not beds. They get leftovers, not the (supposed to be, but not always) hot food we serve. They are not allowed to use our laundry facilities, they are asked to shower at night instead of in the morning, and they do not benefit from case management and the vouchers we receive from places like the Salvation Army (normally). Winter Nights starts at 9pm, not 7pm, unless the weather is really rough. And unlike our normal program, a man on the Winter Nights program does not have to come in nightly, whereas our 30-60-90 program has a curfew. At least, this is my understanding.

Once the guys are in, they often come by to get things. We hand out hygiene products and cleaning products. Sadly, if the employees didn't keep these items under lock-and-key, there wouldn't be enough to go around. Some men wouldn't take a lot, but there are some guys who will take whatever they can get their hands on. I'm continually surprised at the things stolen in the shelter, from rolls of toilet paper to instant coffee.

Before 8pm, the women's shelter has provided food for me to pick up and serve the men. The women make the food because the men do not have a kitchen, not because of some outdated gender roles. When I first started working at the shelter, I was told to serve the food, to ensure there is enough to go around. During the holiday season, we have always had more than enough to eat In fact, I have seen a regretful amount of food go to waste, because the food is not eaten. Perhaps this bounty will change when the season changes and people forget to be charitable.

I don't clean up after the men. They are all assigned chores, every one of them responsible for a part of the community. Sometimes I have to ensure the chores get done and done well, but the majority of the men are quite responsible. The only other responsibilities for the employee are to keep the peace, distribute medicine to those who have it, turn the lights off, enforce quiet hours, and turn on the alarm.

The employee spends a lot of time sitting in the office. We have cameras in the shelter and I'll watch what people are doing from time to time. I'll walk around to visit some. I've found I don't have to do much walking around, though. If I keep the office door open, the men will come to visit me.

Wake up is 6am. Breakfast is seldom hot, since I don't do so well cooking sausage and I don't know a thing about cooking grits and livermush. When we have it, I'll make eggs, but I'm not very good at cooking for so many people at once. And the kitchen at the women's shelter isn't the easiest for cooking. Half of the burners don't work and all of the teflon pans are badly scratched. Every time I cook there, I'm afraid of setting off the fire alarm.

Check out is generally at 8am and morning chores need to be done 15 minutes before checkout. One of the employees makes the men check out earlier. He must have another job or something. Other employees will stay later when the weather is rough. I've been staying later when possible, simply because of the cold. A lot of the men have things to do during the day and less than half stick around past 9 or 10. Any employee who stays past 8 am becomes a volunteer.

Both shelters are named after guiding lights for vessels on the water. I suppose the shelters are meant to serve as a place the homeless can find and will help guide them to safety. After a month at the shelter, I realized it isn't the shelter that serves that purpose in my life. It is the men. They are the guiding light.

(Un)Sheltered Theology

In November, I started working at a local homeless shelter. Since the first day at the shelter, I've heard stories and had experiences that beg to be told. They warrant telling because they are the gospel in a way I've never known before.

These stories are not the stories of others, although the stories of others are intertwined here. Sometimes you will read the stories of others as seen through my eyes and reflected upon by me, as that is all I can give you of the men. What follows are my stories and my reflections. I am not trying to tell their stories here, except where their stories merit telling for the gospel's sake. And even then, the story is still mine. If you want to hear the voices of the voiceless--voices taken away by society--you'll have to look elsewhere.

And the stories told here are yours, too. When you read, my story intertwines with yours, whether you like it or not and whether you agree with my reflections or not. If you react against my reflections, your reaction to me is now part of your story. If you choose to read any of these stories, the longs ones and/or the short ones, you are reading their story, my story, and your story all mixed into one. Separable, but inseparable. What is theirs is mine, is yours. What is yours is mine, is theirs.

Should you choose to read, you are becoming one with me and them, casting off the us/them alterity set up in a capitalistic society where the homeless are without home and place. They have no home in the land and no place in society. You will find yourself swept under the rug of culture and you will think of the men when you rest your head in your home.

You will also read the gospel here. At times, my reflections may raise theological red flags. I may not always sound "Christian" in the traditional sense. I find myself becoming "Christian" in a way I never knew possible and my words reflect this journey. Perhaps these stories reflect a Christianity not everyone needs to know, but it is a way I have long yearned to experience. Theology from the shelter isn't the safe, sheltered theology I once knew, a theology that didn't think much about the shelter--the building, the men inside it, the men outside it, and marginalized people in general.

Should you choose to read any of my stories--their stories, your stories--you will also read Christ's story, God's story, the story of Israel, and the story of the Church. You will read the story of humanity: the gospel, the mystery of Immanuel and theodicy--God with us, a God who is love in the midst of a reality of pain and suffering.

It won't always be easy to read. These stories have stolen tears of joy and sorrow from. All my reflections are bittersweet. Be prepare to feel, but don't feel guilty. Feel sad and cry. Laugh and feel joy. Let the Spirit breathe on you, inspiring you to new life and rebirth. Be invigorated and move from these words to action and reflection, but feel no guilt. Perhaps I will write a reflection on how I have handled and reacted against guilt in my new experiences.

I am not going to use real names, not even the name of the shelter, to respect the men in the shelter and to protect my job. These texts may break the confidentiality agreement I signed when I took the job. I hope my supervisors, the men at the shelter, and God can forgive me for any breaches of trust I might be committing. But I feel the call of the gospel so strong in this venture.

I don't plan to do too much other censoring, because I want to present you with what I hear. Neither do I go out of my way to use cuss words. I have already written a number of reflections and I not only refer to what I affectionately call "the F-bomb," but I also type the word in quoting what the men say, or, in one instance thus far, what I said in order to build some rapport and cultivate pathos. That use of the F-bomb was single-handedly my best use of that word ever. You should have seen the smile on the man's face when I said it. I know many people would not approve of my using the word, but I am not asking you to agree with me, although I hope you endure it for the sake of hearing a retelling of the gospel. As the shelter does not put up with the use of racial slurs, I have not heard but one such slur while in the shelter and it is not in any of my stories.