Can't wrap my mind around it

Drew has asked me to re-post a blog I wrote back on April 4, 2008 about the day we went to Sherlock's place on the 4th floor ... hope that it conveys even a fraction of the emotions that I felt I as wrote it ...

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There are moments that have marked me, changed me … sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worst. Regardless, these moments have shaped who I am, what I think and feel, how and who I love … you get it. Last Sunday, I was again marked. I haven’t been able to get my mind off of what I saw and experienced. I’m upset, depressed, broken-hearted, pissed and helpless all at the same time …

Let me try to explain:

As most of you know, Drew works at SafeHouse Outreach in downtown Atlanta. They reach out to people in the "margins of society" i.e. the extreme poor, children of inmates, and the homeless (plus so much more). We’ve met some truly wonderful, interesting, and devastated people. Many of them have become my friends. I care about them on a level that goes far deeper than wanting to give them bus fare.

One of the guys that have become a friend is Sherlock. He’s a white guy in his 30’s. You would never know he was homeless … weird, sure, but that’s his charm. He’s been asking Drew and me to come see where he lives for weeks. Sunday we were finally able to work it out to go over to where Sherlock has been living for the last 2+ years.

Let me pause here for a moment and collect my thoughts. There is absolutely no way that I will be able to fully articulate my experience.

Sherlock walked us from SafeHouse, down past 5 points and around to what used to be a clinic/hospital of some sort. About 12 years ago one of the floors caught fire and the building has been abandoned ever since. As we approached the building, there was a feeling of despair that came over me. It felt like a black hole sucking the joy and life right out of me. This is one of the most dangerous places in all of downtown. It’s rumored that over 100 people call that building "home". There have been murders. There have been random bodies found from overdose and just the harshness of living on the street.

We entered the door, which is nothing more than a hole cut out of the metal flashing that was put up to keep people out, and into a large, destitute room filled with rancid garbage. On the right was a small area with raunchy mattresses where people sit and smoke crack all day long. Sherlock turned on his flashlight and told me to walk between him and Drew because "people jump out of the shadows" as he put it. I immediately complied. He led us to a narrow stairwell and up four flights of stairs that were full of trash, debris, crack pipes, huge roaches and only God knows what else. Even though I was ascending, I felt like I was actually taking the stairs to hell. The smells, the critters crawling around, the oppressive feeling of this place … it’s as close to hell as I ever want to get.

We finally arrived at the 4th floor. We were at Sherlock’s home. I held the flashlight for him as he unlocked the huge chain that he uses to keep people out. While he’s unlocking the door, he tells us about having to chase people out by hitting them with a sledge hammer and stabbing them with rebar because they were cracked out and dangerous.

We walked through the door. There were massive piles of trash and filth everywhere, broken glass, moldy water leaking through the ceiling ... and the smell. There is no way to describe it. He and the two other guys who live on the 4th floor with him each had their own "bedroom". I only saw Sherlock’s. His room almost looked like a typical college dorm room. Messy, posters of girls on the walls. In the middle of the 4th floor was the common area. It looked more like a camp sight. It was dark so it was hard to see very well in there. But everywhere you turned, there was garbage rotting.

My heart was aching. I’ve spent all these months with some of these people and I’ve hung out with a few of them in the parking deck where they sleep and I thought that was rough. But this broke my heart. The irony is that in the middle of all of this ciaos and filth and desperation, Sherlock’s cat had given birth to three precious new kittens. He was so proud of how good of a mother his cat was and he beamed as he talked about the kittens. It’s the one ray of hope in his existence.

All of this has raised so many questions within myself …

How could anyone survive here?

Why?

What brings people to such a desperate place?

I also can’t stop thinking about those cute newborn kittens. It’s so very interesting to me that in the middle of all of this death (physical death, spiritual death, emotional death) that there can also be life, newness, purpose, hope. It was hard for me to see all of this and not try to swoop in and save Sherlock, his two friends, the cracked out lady we saw and the baby kittens. That’s what I do. I’m a mama hen. I want to shield everyone and protect them under my wing. And I wanted to cry just like I am right now.

I have yet to fully see what it is that God wants me to take away from this. But it has definitely changed me and my perspective on so much. No one and I mean NO ONE deserves to exist like this. Sorry for rambling ... I still haven’t wrapped my mind around this experience.