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Beautiful People

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02.19.08

just something I wrote this am:

driving to work this morning. I always drive through the center of town. For some reason, I love this town.

Because we have an amazing amount of treatment options for addicts, D&A, halfway houses, shelters, etc., there are many, many people who come here, often from other states, for help and they are the ones who walk the streets at all hours of the day and night.

Some, one can see, are going somewhere, the 20 yr old girl who is part of what we call the 'baby brigade', because she and several young mothers stroll their babies around the neighborhood while buying and selling, hiding their lot under their baby...the adult black man carrying a snow shovel, hoping to find favor with enough 'customers' to get the money he needs for his next fix...the drugged-out prostitute, weaving up the sidewalk, hoping to find a john soon for her next fix. I know that one...did a group with her in the local women's correctional facility for two years. She had been badly abused for many years of her life by most people who came in contact with her. Poor thing, she is so broken, hurting and wounded...she is encouraged,m however, as she has found her gifting and talent in life...she's really good at...ahhh, good fix.

As I see these people, I wonder what their story is. How did they get here? Is the world a safe place for them?

I arrive at the office, have the 20yr old who had been raped by her father for years. Next, the woman with 14 different personalities arrives. Her 17 yr old has a southern drawl and we discuss how difficult it has been this past week for her to stay present.  Then, the four year old visits and we play in the sand, talking about how bad daddy said she was, that was why bad things happened to her. Lastly, the 16 yr old prostitute comes forward and says fuck often. Sometimes she finds herself in the middle of downtown pgh, with a wad of money in her hand, and a parking receipt in her pocket, not knowing where she's been, what she's done, or where she parked her car.

Later in the day, arrives the mom who initially came to see me about her little girl, anxious, depressed, angry, withdrawn. She is certain nothing sexual has ever happened to her. When the child has her session, we discover the year she was abused by the 14 yr old neighbor girl.

And so, these people continue on...hopefully feeling a little lighter than when they first arrived.

Back through town, this time, there is the lady walking from the halfway house to her AA/NA meeting. 30 meetings in 30 days, that will save her.

She passes the old man who has everything he owns in the shopping cart from the local grocery store. His cart will be seen outside the local library, as he slips in to find a bit of warmth.

I love this town...i love being here...seeing, praying for, helping these dirty, drugged-up, broken people.

To me, you see, these people are survivors, no longer victims of their circumstances..they are fighters and it is a profound honor for me to walk along side of them...to see their toothless smile, to brush away their greasy, unkempt hair...telling them how valuable they are and that I am glad they are alive.

These people walk struggling for hope of a better life one day...broken, scared, scarred, beautiful people.