how + why

I find myself sitting at my desk two hours later, with an extremely heavy heart and a significant amount of realization.

I sit here on the eve the arrival of 23 other gals; cousins and friends.  We’re entering our third year of the Heard Girls tradition and this year…the girls are coming to Nashville.

They’re coming to the city that I love, a lively city bursting at the seams, a city devastated by a 500 year flood 

less than one year ago.

The intention behind this trip was all in the name of flood relief. There is work waiting to be done, people still displaced;  homes lost, hope dwindled.  But as Pallie took over the volunteer portion of this trip, we found ourselves being led away from flood related aid (due to weather conditions, the winter season and holiday weekend) and gravitating in another direction. Unintentionally and completely coincidentally, the organizations we are working with, though all different, have one common thread: homelessness.

Tonight, I began researching articles and statistics for us to share about the homeless population in Nashville.  Looking for numbers and percentages: the estimated amount of individuals, families and children displaced and living on the streets.  Learning about the programs and organizations in place and dedicated to aiding the epidemic:  the shelters, the food lines, the opportunity to “get out”, the open hands and hearts available twenty-four hours a day.

The numbers are staggering, the opportunities boundless.

And therein lies the confusion of the equation: If the opportunities are vast why are the numbers astounding?

I don’t know the answer and I’m afraid neither do you.

We all have our thoughts, opinions and beliefs about the homeless epidemic and most of us could string together a halfway educated and equally as eloquent statement regarding the matter. 

But we really don’t know.

I read an intriguing piece about “how” and “why” people become homeless, from a local gentleman considered chronically homeless as he’s dealt with the situation multiple times over thirty years. 

I read a handful of other predictions and “statistics” blaming the economy, mental illness and the evil cycle of poverty.

I entered my fifth article on the “how and why” and I couldn’t read anymore. My heart ached too much, my mind wondered too far...so I stopped, gently got Collin’s attention, he paused the TV and I asked one question:

“What is Bruce’s last name?”

He replied, “I don’t know.  I never knew”

“Ok, thanks.”

He turned the TV back on and my heart sank a little more.  A large part of me was eager for a shameless Google search. I was feeling the spark of far fetching hope for one final avenue to just “know” more. I felt okay with the outcome of whatever I may find out. I was ready for it.  I sighed as I realized, though it’s already been made clear, that I’ll never be able to accurately search. I’ll really never “know” more.

Bruce is 76 years old. A Vietnam Veteran who came home from war with a mental illness.

Bruce has a wife, children and grandchildren in Michigan from which he’s been estranged for 15+ years.

Bruce is one of the best story tellers you’ll ever hear. 

Bruce has a laugh and twinkle in his eye that will make you believe -- in anything.

Bruce loves Keith Whitley and Elvis Presley.

Bruce is homeless...and has been for at least twenty years.

Bruce may or may not be dead.

Nearly four years ago on a warm May night in my backyard…

Bruce is who introduced Collin to me.

To be continued….

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I want to talk about Bruce, I want to document our story.  I don’t know why I’ve never shared this before…but I do know that I am being pulled by my head and my heart to embrace the mission this weekend with a new passion and a new understanding.

I can’t wait to tell share more of our story and of our friend. It’s a story of selflessness, love, heartache and chance. It’s a story that deserves to be told. And I’m ready to talk.