Photo courtesy of Luis Alvarez via SentimentsExpressed.com

I met Luis Alvarez at the Urban Ministry Center's Art Auction this past October. He was dressed in a slick black suit and had spoken softly, but very articulately. He didn't have any of his work displayed that night, but he and I did have an enjoyable conversation about the importance of feng shui and contrasting colors in canvas art.

I gave him my card and encouraged him to look into being a vendor for Speak Up. He emailed me a couple weeks later and our art conversation continued. But when talking about his life, he used a term that stuck out in my mind: "housing impaired." Luis considers himself housing impaired, not homeless. I was intrigued by this and wanted to know more about the meaning.

Luis was born and raised in Nicaragua and he says fate is what brought him to Charlotte. While on his way to New York a few years ago, he was in an altercation, and lost everything he had on him, including identification.

He remained here in Charlotte, and attempted to create a new life. His opinionated nature and desire to give advice to his bosses backfired. He says he felt misunderstood by employers, and has been repeatedly fired over favoritism and miscommunication. Chronic unemployment has left him without a home. But this is where Luis differentiates himself as being housing impaired as opposed to homeless. “I don’t have a home or a (permanent) place to reside, and I live in a shelter with individuals who are homeless,” he says, “but I am not homeless.”

“I see a homeless person as someone who has given up and has accepted his or her current state,” he explains further, “but someone who is housing impaired like me continues to generate business and attention.”

In Luis’s case, the business and attention he’s talking about is his art. Thanks to the CommunityWorks945 program at the Urban Ministry Center, he has been able to create art using donated tools, and develop websites to showcase his work. But as someone who is housing impaired, he isn’t doing this as a hobby. “My relationship with the Urban Ministry Center is strictly business,” Luis says.

“I’m not creating art to just reach out to an audience,” he continues, “I’m creating things to bring a much needed change to humanity.  I want to bring people to a new state of realization and creativity.”

Luis isn’t afraid to be honest. His intentions are sincere, and he’s very passionate about his art. A tour of several of the sites he operates shows quite a range of artistic variety, from sensual imagery of the female form to multimedia presentations.

“My art is a science…everything has a purpose and a meaning, from the color to the texture to the frame. I’m giving people the liberty to perceive it as they wish,” he says.

For now, Luis is building his portfolio and continuing to develop more websites. His current project is a site aimed at literacy education for families. He’s also working on writing novels and composing songs. Luis’s ultimate goal is to have his own place that’s big enough to display all his work. “Doors have closed on me,” he says, “but being housing impaired is just a transition. I am simply waiting to reach my position of power.”

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Brooke Gibbons serves as the Community Connections Coordinator for Speak Up. She can be reached by email: brookegibbons@speakupmag.org or by telephone: (704) 750-0721.

Loretta had total confidence that she was going to sell out of racks this morning. Her first attempt at rack placement was in the Elizabeth area. "I live in the shelter around there, so my rack route needs to be close so my leg doesn't break" she says with loud laugh. She is one of the more successful Speak Up vendors. She regularly attends the Monday meetings and often brings a friend in tow.

Her first visit to her church was successful, but she cheerfully accepted rejection at the next place she went to. However on her last stop, she scored another successful placement. She came back to the car beaming with pride. "They took them all, one store told me to call the owner, but it's ok, because I don't have any more magazines."

No more magazines, what a great way to start the morning, praise be to God.

Kaitlyn Tokay volunteers with Speak Up as a "vendor mentor." She assists with training of Speak Up vendors and accompanies them onto the streets to provide real-time support and encouragement.

I watch the news as the tug-of-war over the national budget, which should have been resolved last year, struggles over their mutual loss that would be a government shutdown. Watching as each political side fights to win the award for best sound bite.

I have fear that the shutdown would impact the least of us more. That which some see as entitlement, I have to view as assistance with survival. I'm a part of the homeless community and I fight to keep my head above water, let alone climb a ladder.

To be a part of the community from the position I hold is more of a challenge than the average person would have knowledge. In fact, I often tell people that the most difficult part of homelessness is when you find someplace to live. That is when all social networks that you relied on to free you from streets, consider the task completed an offer you no more.

During that same time, your challenge will be to walk this tightrope, hoping no challenge will arise that will cause you to fall back into the abyss. I've seen many recycled back into the system. I think the system does not try to release me from this problem, but more assimilate me further.

I have to commend my church, Forest Hill, for creating a ministry to help people who have just moved from homelessness. However, these programs being new, my personal struggle has been in isolation and loneliness.

I've been in Charlotte for two years, spent about nine months on the streets and 1.25 years living in a room. My personal observations have me starving 25% to 40% of the time to make sure rent is paid. So much so that I have become accustomed to eating one small meal a day. This may be I dieters dream, but a problem when you have no choice.

No one has hired me in the last year, even with the broad range of knowledge and skills. These days, computerized applications seek specialist in everything. What ambition would I have had if I had been a dishwasher for the last 20 years? I have enrolled at CPCC, and challenged to maintain home until this two year achievement has been reached.

So I watch the arguments over budget, restricting unions, privatizing Medicare and try not to grow bitter nor angry. Try not to let negative consume me, because I still a job. Wishing my life was a little different, so I can get to be a good neighbor.

I would like to watch the news programs and their arguments of protecting the future, then be able to relate on the same perspective. I cannot afford the vision to look towards the future. I can barely afford to see past today.

Donald "Bongo" Stackhouse

He moved around some and eventually migrated to Charlotte.  It was a hard season.

"I was all strung out on drugs, but it got to the point where I couldn't take it any longer.  So I opened up the Bible.  I went right to the part where God told Abraham to leave his homeland."  Bongo took this as a sign to try to kick the drug habit, so he checked himself into Rebound at the Charlotte Rescue Mission, a 90-day recovery program.  Shortly after successfully completing the program, he met his future wife and they were married at Bread of Life Deliverance Church in Charlotte.

But when they made the fateful decision to move to Charleston, SC, his wife's hometown, they fell back into old habits and started using drugs again.  "All hell broke loose," he said, and described how he'd been severely beaten by one of his wife's sons.  Though he was going to press charges, he changed his mind.  "If I show mercy to him, God will show mercy to me."

God's mercy, it seems, includes plenty of hardship.  For Bongo, life has been rough.  In different events, he's had his teeth knocked out by a close family member, had his forehead busted open, spent days in intensive care, been told by physicians that that he'd never walk again, been temporarily paralyzed (for a year), and so on.  Then, there are the deaths.  In the last eight years, ten of his family members have died.  First an aunt, then an uncle, another aunt, then his mom of a heart attack on the eve of that aunt's funeral, then his youngest brother, followed by his favorite uncle and most recently his cousin's son in a house fire.

But through it all, he still sees God's blessing in his life.  Recently returned from Trenton, he has found a place to live, plays in the band at Temple International Church and is saving money to rent an apartment.  He hopes that his wife, who is currently incarcerated, will soon join him when she's released.

Every day, Bongo stations himself in uptown Charlotte, surrounded by a variety of instruments–bells, shakers, drums, his djembe drum–where he plays and sings.  His eyes are lively and steady, his face is frequently lit up by his wide smile.  Many of the passersby great him by name, with an affectionate handshake or by depositing a handful of change into his bag.

What drives Bongo?   "The best place to be in the whole world is in God's will," he says.  For Bongo, that means passionately playing music every day, reading his Bible in the morning and evening, and proclaiming his testimony of God's provision.  Bongo says that he remains faithful to tithing, the practice of giving a percentage of all his income to God's work, regardless of how much is left for himself.  "Be a blessing and God will give it back, be a blessing and God will give it right back," he says with a smile.  "You can't beat God's giving, no matter how hard you try."

Bongo wants to be working.  Doing what?  "I'm born to be a musician," he says. "And I will tell my testimony anywhere in the world."

Bongo asked that his contact information be shared; he can be reached at (704) 430-0357. See more pictures on Flickr.

The end of last month I had a real interesting week. Sunday the 27th, I faced the first day of a job I worked over two months to get into. Some friends from church had collected money to put me into lodging until my first paycheck–but the job started two weeks later than originally expected. So I secured the job, but faced a return to homelessness by Wednesday of my first week.

So I was dealing with the possibility of losing the job because of this challenge.  If I could not maintain my new temporary home, I would have to return to homelessness, forfeit the extra clothing, iron, dishes and other amenities that I acquired in this short time. I would also be yoked again with that feeling of hopelessness that accompanies ambitions and dreams lost. I have proven strong to survive in the past but after tirelessly working the last nine months to arrive to this modest point, loosing this would impact me with tremendous power.

That Sunday night, I gave a modest prayer.  I have not done such in the past, believing that simply enduring the process would provide sufficient spiritual insight–that Jesus would give lessons of enlightenment.  But that night I needed My Father as any child would, staring into the abyss of discouragement.

“Lord, you know I’m not one to ask, but I need you now like I never have before. All I need is to survive the week. I have no money and do not know how to get it, but I need a week’s rent. I need to last at least my first week at work.”

Let go and let God? I had no choice. I did not have the resources, so all I could do would be to wait for my Wednesday check out to come.  At least I’d still get a few days to work before I went down.

My first day at work went very well and my new employer was surprisingly comfortable. I was skeptical, considering my start date had already been bumped twice–their decision.

At the close of the work day, I took a two hour bus ride downtown to maintain a commitment to a volunteer effort that could use my help with graphics.  A friend said that she could help with 1/3 of what I would need towards rent for the upcoming week.  I supposed I could use this to eat, once I would no longer have a home.

But my arrival at home, later that evening, changed my plans to return the streets and homelessness.  My sister had sent an email saying that she could help with a loan for 2/3’s of what I needed.  I have always said that God is the master of mathematics, with all those details needed to keep the universe working.  This was so smooth; I would guess He was showing me how easy He could flex a muscle.

Wow! Thank you Lord!

Now, all I would need is to acquire money for another week of travel, so I could ride the bus until my first payday on the 9th.

I waited for the bus to work Tuesday morning and see a couple of shuttles headed for the college. I know they don’t pick up at bus stops on the way, so I jokingly put my hand up, like I’m waving for a cab. The second shuttle stops and picks me up.

I take this act of kindness as Jesus getting involved and offering me an opportunity.  I tell the driver that I accept her kindness as a "God thing" and that I want to return the favor using my graphics or web design skills.

“You do websites? I have a non-profit and need a website.”

Whoa.

We talk about what she would need and my abilities. She lets me out at a stop where I could intercept my next bus.  As I exit, I notice the time and realize that had she not picked me up, I would have been late (about 2 hours if I missed that next bus).

I look up to a fine sunny morning and whisper, “You’re good!”

I am convinced that with faith and a good heart, prayers are answered.

"The Lord has place me in this arena, and like any child not wanting to take out the garbage, sometimes I whine. The inconveniences of this life are what annoys me. Being ostracized by people who will not even try to discover your value, being blocked from certain comforts, like washing and using the bathroom, things like that. What really makes homelessness difficult is mostly the desire to be part of community. That part of us (and all creatures) that wants to be part of others like us to insure our safety and comfort. I think this instinct is at the heart of people feeling like I should feel devastated and wish to pray for difference. The people who have sat and talked with me about my homelessness, for some reason, begin to see me as something larger. Not for me or what I say, but realizing their own fear of how they would feel in my situation and then not being able to discover those same fears in me. This really has nothing to do with macho strength. Its faith. Know that I have concerns right now that you may be seeing the homeless as a collective and not as individuals. Seek to discover the people, as well as your own fears and feelings. This knowledge can then be applied to constructive initiatives that can get real results."

Wow.  Great advice.  I can't get that one statement out of my mind, What really makes homelessness difficult is mostly the desire to be part of community. Please consider helping us help Wendell out by referring his graphic design and writing talents to anyone you know who may be looking for such help.  You can find his information here:  http://charlotte.craigslist.org/biz/1381241787.html