It was a 40-minute commute from my home in Greenfield, Indiana to my summer job just south of downtown Indianapolis. I worked at a thrift store associated with Saint Vincent DePaul, a Catholic-based charity dedicated to offering education and support for the most vulnerable in our communities. In addition to working the storefront, I volunteered with a branch of their unsheltered ministries. It changed my life, to say the least.
Every week I left my world of ‘the haves’ and entered the world of ‘the have nots.’ I came in and helped prepare food, organize clothing and put out shoes, hygiene products, blankets, suitcases and more for those in need. By 11 a.m., a line of people would wrap around our warehouse, comprised of those who began the journey to our location from miles away, needing all that we could give them.
The team and myself would see around 50 people a day on average. Many were regulars I knew by name, others came in once and we wouldn’t serve them again. Despite all that the other volunteers and I would accomplish in the mornings and early afternoons, I always left that space wishing I could do more, that what we would offer wasn’t enough.
The second room in the unsheltered ministries is dedicated to the women, which has quite a lot more clothing to choose from (yes, even homeless women love to shop). Before each person leaves, they are given a hot meal and a snack bag full of food to help them survive until the next day.
In the two hours we opened our doors to them, some would share their experiences on the streets with me. Their stories would bring me to tears.
A mother of four came in every week for clothing and food to provide for them. She would tell me updates about each of her kids — especially her three month old — and how her boyfriend is readjusting to life outside of prison.
A man, who had only been on the streets for a few weeks, told me some hard truths he had come to accept about people and civility as he struggled to find a job that would hire him. By the end of the summer, he was hired at a Whole Foods, and I helped him pick out a uniform and work shoes.
A woman came in one day, begging for new shoes. Her feet and ankles were bruised and swollen from walking. I’ve never seen eyes so sad and lost.
Another woman, one we considered a regular, confessed to another her struggles with being assaulted nightly and having her personal items stolen often. One day, we stopped seeing her come back.
Linda Clodfelter, the director of homeless services for Saint Vincent DePaul Indy, told me her own story one day.
Around 16 years ago, one of her daughters became terminally ill at the same time Clodfelter was battling colon cancer. She made the choice to become homeless, selling her house and everything they had to continue to pay for her and her daughter’s medical bills. Together, they lived on the streets for a year and a half. The doctors were able to extend her daughter’s life for five more years.
Clodfelter discovered Saint Vincent DePaul following her escape from homelessness, and the volunteers there were able to help her and her daughter settle in their new apartment. Soon after, she became involved with volunteering for their unsheltered ministries, starting with Beggars for the Poor.
Clodfelter cited a specific interaction, however, which became the transformative moment where she recognized her life’s vocation.
A homeless man came in one day needing a suit. His sister had been murdered while living on the streets, and he wished to look presentable at her funeral. Clodfelter and another volunteer, Mac, found him in a gray pinstripe suit, pink shirt, gray shoes and a nice gray and pink tie. They allowed him to change into the outfit they made for him, and when looking in the mirror, he teared up and said aloud, “I look human.”
After that day, Clodfelter dedicated her life to aiding the homeless, and helped found many of the homeless services Saint Vincent DePaul offers today.
“Some people call me obsessive, and I probably am,” Clodfelter told me. “But my brothers and sisters are still out there. [They] deserve the best that I can give them, because they are human … They deserve to be served.”
The homeless are more than a problem that needs to be solved or a statistic relating to a city’s welfare. They don’t simply disappear when you avoid eye contact or go home at the end of the night after a day of begging at the side of the road.
They are everyday people, just like you and me and our families and friends and coworkers, who fell into a state of vulnerability. Whether through financial problems, addiction, familial instability or just poor luck, these people deserve to eat well, sleep safely and receive the help and education they need to pull themselves out of homelessness. They deserve respect and dignity, to be recognized as human beings rather than a nuisance to others’ day-to-day life.
Professor emeritus of american studies Benedict Giamo pointed out profoundly the necessity of better federal policies surrounding homelessness and poverty prevention in a letter to the editor in April. I agree with his statement wholeheartedly, and further advocacy and legal change is needed to permanently address the country’s failure to aid the hundreds of thousands experiencing homelessness.
But while our country attempts to not fall apart, more needs to be done for immediate care. Hundreds of people in our own South Bend community are in need for people to see and treat them as human, to give them help and recognition of their existence.
As we enter a new school year, I urge people to consider putting some time aside to volunteer and serve others who are less fortunate not to boost resumes or to get a better college experience, but because simply put, it's the right thing to do.
So many of us chose to attend college to make a positive impact on the world. Positive impacts are desperately needed now.
I worked closely with K.T. (left) and Tim (right) throughout the summer every week, to which I became close friends with. K.T. is a retired nurse who would tell me stories all about her nursing days. Tim is a part of Saint Vincent DePaul's Changing Lives Forever Program, and is one of the most gentle souls I've ever worked with. They represent the kind of person I hope to become one day.
