Transition or Transformation

It amazes me how lives can change at Joseph's House, but I am also curious as to whether these changes will really be permanent. Is Joseph's House a place for transition or transformation, especially for those residents who become healthy enough to move out? Early last week, a resident was able to leave Joseph's House and move to a transitional housing program for men with a history of substance abuse. 

When Michael* moved to Joseph's House in July, he had a history of chronic homelessness. He had been living on the streets in the same neighborhood as Joseph's House for quite some time. He has HIV and was not taking medication. He is an alcoholic and a drug-user. He told me multiple times that his addiction always won. It was all he could think about. It dictated his every move. He did not care about people, he only cared about where he would get his next fix. As part of his agreement with Joseph's House - which is a clean and dry house - Michael began attending AA/NA meetings three times a week. 

I remember first meeting Michael. He was sitting in the chair in the living room, looking rather frail. I asked him how he was doing, and he told me his stomach had been really upset all day, causing him to feel incredibly weak. Later in the day, I began to hear more about his health, and found out that his HIV had almost won. He had a CD4 count of 1, meaning that for every milliliter of blood, he only had one white blood cell that would command the rest of the white blood cells to attack infections. A normal CD4 count is over 500. His immune system was far from functioning effectively. He had also just started on HIV medications that would help lower the amount of virus in his blood and allow his immune system to produce new, healthy CD4 cells.

Michael often seemed resistant to building relationships with any of the staff. He was busy dealing with his addiction, and sometimes it felt like he wanted to do it alone. Though he liked that people would travel with him to appointments or accompany him on walks around the neighborhood, he was constantly itching for his freedom. He seemed closed off, like he didn't want us around. I learned that his father had died from AIDS at Joseph's House just seven years earlier....and here he was, living in the same place as his father had lived, fighting the same health issue as his father had.

At community meetings, Michael would often tell us that it was hard for him to be at Joseph's House (especially when he felt locked down). He told us he didn't know how to love, or even what love meant. The only person he had ever told he loved was his mother...no one else. And here he was, at Joseph's House, where love is all around, and for some, may be overwhelming. He one time told Patty that it was hard for him to look at her because he saw his father...it brought back the memories of his dad's dying days in the house that he was now living in.

Michael was ready to move out of Joseph's House when the chance came. His health is much better and he has been clean and sober since July. He was ready to be independent again - or at least as independent as he could be. We were all excited to see him move on, but saddened and frightened because we did not know what would happen. During our goodbye ritual the day before he moved, each person in the community went around and said a hope that they had for him. Unfortunately, I was unable to be at work that day, but a co-worker told me the following. When it was Michael's turn to speak, he spoke profoundly about all that he had learned about love during his time at Joseph's House, and what the home and the community in that home has meant to him. Just the week before, he had stated that he didn't know how to love.

Our friend's life has been changed by Joseph's House in many ways. And while we don't know what the future will bring for him, there is so much hope in this transformation. I just pray that it is a permanent transformation....and that he will come back to visit...because we really do love him.

*Name has been changed.

A Mother's Love

A new resident moved in just over one week ago. Danielle* is a pretty twenty-eight year old who has HIV and heart disease. She was born with HIV, and my guess is her heart disease is the result of the virus working within her body. Her heart only pumps blood at 20%, whereas a normal heart pumps blood out to the body at 90%-100%. Currently, she has a medication that is constantly pumped into her (like an IV) assisting her heart in functioning. Without this medication, she would die within three weeks, and with it, she may only live for a year. 

When I first met Danielle, I was able to look past all the cords and tubes. At first, she really appears to be any other young woman. She has a strong personality; she is very funny; she likes to talk and loves Kit-Kats. She is very easy to become friends with because she is so open and friendly. She is the mother to two beautiful young boys, ages two years and nine months. She loves them so much, and seems like she would do just about anything for them. The boys are currently living with their father and grandmother in Anacostia, the poorest neighborhood in Washington, DC. Just a couple of days ago, the father and grandmother brought the baby to visit at Joseph's House. He is such a good baby - rarely cries, likes to laugh, and loves to cuddle. As I sat with the family, I thought a lot about some of my clients last year who would bring their children in. Sure, they, too, were living in poverty, as well as living with HIV. But at some point during the visit, it hit me....Danielle's situation at Joseph's House is so very different than my clients' back in Raleigh.

Danielle will most likely die in the next 12 months. I am not sure what her awareness level of this is yet. Perhaps she is still in denial, or maybe she has accepted it. I am not sure. As I watched her with her baby, though, I saw the true love of a mother; and witnessing that love brought tears to my eyes, as I remembered that she is dying. And here she is, at Joseph's House, unable to spend her days with her children. The boys live 30 minutes away, on the opposite side of town, and poverty really prevents mother and children from being able to be together. Her boyfriend and his grandmother both work full-time, wage jobs in order to provide for the boys. That makes it difficult for them to travel the 30 minutes to visit. Not to mention, it is easier for them to drive to Joseph's House than to take public transportation...and that costs money...and as we all know, gas is not cheap. 

I watched Danielle standing outside as her family got in the car and drove away. There was this longing in her eyes...longing for her boys, longing to be with her family, and maybe even a real fear of leaving it all behind. Just a twenty-eight year old mother, trying to do all she can for her kids, but her health and socioeconomic status as preventing her from even seeing them. I think about my friends, and what they would do in this situation. I think about new mothers I know and wonder how they would navigate all the barriers that are a reality to this young mother. What would you do? 

I just keep praying that we are able to make Joseph's House a home for Danielle...a place of comfort and companionship; a place of love and trust; maybe even a place full of family.

*Name has been changed.

Learning When It Is Not About Me

Joseph's House is not a place for the dying, I am learning. It is a place for the living. All of our residents are living each day, whether that living is nearing the end or if they are learning how to live all over again. One of our residents, who has become like a mother to me, is living with AIDS, has just been started on HIV medication, and is getting stronger each day. She has been a blessing in my life in so many ways, but mostly in her aggressive way of teaching me how to be patient.


With a strong personality similar to my own, she has a tendency to make demands. "Bring me a soda." "I asked for salt, NOT sugar." Pleases and thank yous are sometimes few and far between. There has been many a day when she pushed me so hard, I wanted to snap. I have cried because of her demanding nature and aggressiveness. I have found myself hurting inside because I feel like I am not being respected. But then she holds my hand and cries with me, apologizes for being so tough, tells me she loves me and she needs me....and suddenly the pain disappears. The next day I can laugh with her, get her a soda, and hopefully get the salt instead of the sugar. 


She has taught me how to love in ways I never knew how. Even through the frustrations that I encounter with her at times, there is this part of me that remembers that the little things should not hold me back. Those little moments should not be the source of anger, but rather a source of learning.


A week or so ago, a co-worker dropped her off at her family's house. She told us she would get a ride back home later that night. That night, she called around 9:30pm saying she had a ride and would be home soon...and she did not return. My initial instinct was that she had fallen and was in the hospital. She is not super steady on her feet, as she is gaining her strength back little by little. I became worried. One of our nurses talked to her brother, who told us that she was fine...so the worry disappeared and slowly began to be replaced by anger. Why would she call and say she was coming home...and not return? This continued for two days. She'd call, say she was on her way home, and then not show up.


I allowed my anger to grow to the point that I prayed I would not be the one at the house when she came back home...if she came back home. Two days later, I was working my late shift, and my co-worker told me that our friend was almost here and to let down the elevator for her. My heart ached. I expected the worst....that she had been out in the world again, using, hurting herself, when she was finally getting better and healing.


I watched as she got out of the car and walked to the elevator. I wanted to cry our of frustration, not knowing what I'd say when I saw her. My initial instinct was to say, "Where have you been? Why have you kept us worrying when you know we only want what is best for you? We only want for you to get better!" But when I saw her, I saw the fear in her eyes. Terrified she would be kicked out of Joseph's House, she practically walked by me without saying hello. My heart melted. The frustration disappeared. I hugged her and told her I love her and that I am so happy that she was home.


She sat upstairs with me and a co-worker and cried to us as she told us that the urine she just gave us was "dirty" and that she had been high multiple times when she was away. My heart ached as I saw the effects of addiction, but softened as I saw her courage and her bravery and her need to be loved. I sat with her for a while, just holding her hand. When I got up to leave, she asked me how another resident was doing, knowing that his health was declining. I looked her in the eye and told her the truth...that he is dying and would pass any day now. She began to cry again, looked at me, and said, "I have been so blessed and I don't know why." I told her, "I am just happy you are home," knowing that she could have died out there, especially if she never came home. As I began to cry with her, all of the anger and frustration finally went away. For the first time in my life, I was able to let go of the disappointment. I was able to get past the bitterness. I was able to truly love unconditionally. In that moment, I realized that it isn't always about me. This was about her, and I am just lucky and blessed to be a part of her journey.


Love is a special thing...but unconditional love - that true, beautiful love that knows no bounds and exists regardless of hurt or frustration - is the most amazing thing I have ever experienced.