Chuck had been homeless longer than I’d been alive. He was a kind, gentle man and, when I think about how terrified I was to meet this chronic homeless client to add to my very small social work client list, I can’t help but laugh. There was nothing to be afraid of in his kind eyes and silly smile.
Chuck’s life was colorful. It painted hues no rainbow could even possibly fit in the sky. He was educated, street-smart, a survivor and thriver, a self-destructive addict and yet the most selfless friend in the city. He was bold and timid, quiet and loud, lonely and yet a people magnet. Chuck changed me. It wasn’t that I was enamored by the shock value of hanging out with a homeless guy a couple times a week for over a year. Sure, it worried my parents and husband a little when they found out I’d be interning with the chronic homeless division of the city; however, they trusted my trustworthy university and graduate program to keep their students safe. And I was safe from physical harm, absolutely. But nothing could have prepared me for the mental, emotional and spiritual changes that I would go through by knowing Chuck. He taught me so much, invaded my very small world and thinking in ways that I had no idea a man in dirty clothes, with impeccably clean hands and very few existing teeth could do. In fact, I could easily write a book about my adventures and life lessons with Chuck. For now, this little blog post will have to do.
What exactly did you learn? you might ask.
I learned about being homeless houseless. I’m not an expert at all, but I learned about the culture. Thankfully, I had a small taste of prison culture and community life from interning for a prison ministry a few years earlier; this set up lots of vocabulary and concepts that I already knew, and learning about homelessness from Chuck helped build upon the lingo and terms of the homeless.
He taught me about communication…how do you set up appointments without a set location, phone or email around? Chuck did have a laptop, but wifi wasn’t easily accessible for a guy who wasn’t welcome into the restaurants and schools/libraries that offered such. I learned that networking among the homeless and word of mouth will get you so far. Looking people in the eye and, therefore, letting them see your true thoughts/feelings/intentions/soul went beyond social/economic/age/gender and even community boundaries. I’ve been complimented in the past because I treat young children with respect and don’t ‘talk down’ to them. The same applies with the homeless…people forced into harsh realities don’t put up with fake people; they simply don’t have time for such, so I quickly realized that they could see through any of my masks, fakeness, big smiles, fears or false promises.
Chuck showed me that treasures exist in broken jars of clay, many seeds of hope and joy that I would have missed had I passed him by (or had I not been forced into this opportunity, graduation a great goal at the end of this road). He understood life in a way that I was too young, privileged, naive, close-minded, and illiterate to observe on my own. His clarity and insight on faith, relationships, communities and systems went lightyears past the fog and memory loss that his long-term alcoholism was pressing upon his mind. In the midst of my pity party of being an overworked, underpaid, exhausted, newlywed, and confused grad student, Chuck lifted me up and encouraged me time and time again; he blessed me in his brokenness and took me on in my stupidity, teaching me so much.
He also worried me. As we met weekly to talk about his short-term and long-term goals, he was so keenly aware of his own personal hurdles that I wasn’t sure he would ever stop the spinning cycle of his grueling lifestyle. Sure, he had a pretty good setup with a nice camp, tons of friends (college students, other homeless, business people, his church, city workers, etc.), enough to eat, hobbies and jobs, and a schedule he set himself. He was a long-time resident of his city, had a strong moral code and even did some teaching on the side. He was a respected member of his community and, yet, his lifestyle was sending his body on a fast track to early death. I won’t go into all of those details, but this great life he had set up would not go on much longer if he didn’t address some of the effects of this lifestyle. Chuck knew it all, had perspective for days, yet he wouldn’t budge. His life was just so good. It kept me up at night.
I never got to say goodbye. Selfishly, this is perhaps the hardest piece of the story. Whether I’d admit it at the time, my goal of being the star student with the star client in the most incredible journey of client self-discovery felt like a failure when he refused to make a change in the direction all of my textbooks said he should make. I felt like he didn’t want to help himself, and me, so I must have done something wrong in this journey. We remained constant in our meetings and our relationship was strong, but the frequency of sessions started to taper off toward the end of my internship. We had one really important meeting, and my always punctual client was nowhere to be found. No one I knew had seen him, heard from him, and no one knew what to do.
I just had to leave. My internship was over; soon after, we moved from that city for my next internship. I grieved over that, and I still do sometimes. This man who meant so much to me…was just gone. And so was I. To be honest, I still don’t know whether he’s dead or alive. I don’t know where he is, who has seen him, and what he is up to. Our relationship was 100% professional as a social work student and a client, but the evolution of our working relationship opened up doors for learning, growing, challenging and exploring. He was like an uncle, friend, peer and mentor all rolled into this one underweight, scruffy, middle-aged man with the bluest eyes I had ever seen.
There is not one bit of me that wants to remember Chuck as a cliche homeless dude I was naive enough to meet with, alone, as a young social work intern. I have no regrets of the time we spent together, the things he taught me, and the holy moments where I felt Jesus’ presence in his stories. I was really, really, really lucky and blessed to be set up in that place and that time with that man. One of my professors told me that I might not ever have a client/parishioner like that, ever again, for the rest of my career. I’m not sure about that, but he was certainly a character.
He filled my head with questions and my heart with new concepts of how love and scars can live so beautifully side-by-side. He shared stories and memories with me that he had not shared with anyone else in this world, and I’m so thankful that he trusted me with those. He also gave me permission to share his story with others in any way I’d like. Obviously, there are details that I’ll always keep private, out of respect. But the world needs to know about this amazing person named Chuck. He is my human example of what Jesus looks like in real life, among real brokenness.
Thanks, Chuck.
