No one dreams of street life
By John Mohan

In Adam Sandler's 2002 movie Mr. Deeds, there's a great closing scene where the main character Longfellow Deeds stands in front of a meeting of stockholders before a merger vote. In his efforts to keep the company intact, he appeals to the voters through a question: When you were kids, what did you dream about being when you grew up?

Predictably, all had dreams of significant careers. Interestingly, none actually followed their childhood dreams. Most of us are like that. As children perhaps we wanted to be lawyers or pilots or teachers or nurses -- but didn't actually become those things. Our homeless also dreamed of pursuing and becoming those things (and some actually did), but in a fractured humanity, bad things happen. Dreams get crushed. Pursuits get derailed. And people just try to survive.

Some lose their jobs, their homes and all that they have known. And yet, still, everyone needs shelter -- and everyone needs food. Even the poor and homeless.

Siloam Mission (where I serve as CEO) is one of only a handful of inner-city agencies providing free meals for the conservatively estimated 1,700 homeless and thousands of low-income community members who are at risk of homelessness.

In 2007, Siloam provided almost 175,000 hot meals to the community. No matter how long the line in front of our doors, each person has their own story of hardship and the related issues that contributed to their reliance on humanitarian agencies for their survival. They may have been economic hardships, physical or intellectual disabilities, addictions, or perhaps educational limitations. But all have some things in common with each other and with us, the larger community: none ever had a childhood dream of living on our Winnipeg streets.

Based on those using Siloam Mission's emergency shelter, most people experiencing homelessness are not on social assistance, and most are not intoxicated panhandlers. However, most are broken and unsure of how to get back to normal lives. All have an innate need to be valued and treated with dignity. Few blame society or governments, yet they are clearly frustrated by the systems that are supposed to exist to help them.

They are someone's uncle or sister or parent or child. As children, they all stood in front of their teachers and classmates and shared what they wanted to be when they grew up. None are where they dreamed they would be. And they take no pride in their lot in life.

Our food services manager Debbie Reesor relayed an incident from a couple weeks ago. As Debbie was leaving the building Thursday evening Jan. 10, she exited through the main doors which the patrons use. A few men were standing near the doors in the cold. A young man who looked to be in his early 30s asked what time supper was. Debbie responded that the new Thursday night meal service was scheduled to begin the following week. Although not her fault, she still apologized for the miscommunication.

The young man looked down at the sidewalk, disappointed, and said he would probably go to another agency for soup that night. Then without any trace of anger or self-pity but obvious regret, he added: "I guess that's what I get for being homeless."

While some may agree with his self-assessment, it is neither compassionate nor helpful. And there, but by the grace of God, could be someone we love -- or even us.

Originally printed in the Winnipeg Sun, Wednesday, January 23, 2008.
Reprinted with the permission of Sun Media Corporation.