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Opinion
The following is presented as part of The Columbian’s Opinion content, which offers a point of view in order to provoke thought and debate of civic issues. Opinions represent the viewpoint of the author. Unsigned editorials represent the consensus opinion of The Columbian’s editorial board, which operates independently of the news department.
News / Opinion / Columns

Donnelly: Chance meeting illuminates homelessness conundrum

By Ann Donnelly
Published: October 6, 2019, 6:01am

We’ll call him the Seeker, because we don’t know his name and we found him seeking a hoped-for oasis in his travels. When we encountered him, we learned how intractable are the problems of the homeless. We were also reminded that “man does not live by bread alone.”

We were two women walkers pursuing fitness on our accustomed early-morning four-mile loop from downtown Vancouver eastward to the Heights. As usual, we were hashing out our life challenges — family, community, jobs — as we walked. We reached “double Grand” — as we call that steep two-part incline from 5th Street and Grand Boulevard to the hill crest at McLoughlin Boulevard — when we encountered the Seeker.

He hailed us from the east side of Grand at its steepest point just north of Mill Plain Boulevard. A frail figure, slender, not much bigger than the wool cap and threadbare sweater that he wore in the early morning chill. His arms were full of a tattered paper bag that he shifted sideward to wave at us, yelling, “Where is it … where is it?” Then he strode into traffic toward us, barely avoiding morning-rush cars and trucks hurrying downhill on Grand, “where is it” — he repeated. We racked our brains as he approached us — “where is” what?

Within seconds, we knew. We were within blocks of the Vancouver Navigation Center, the homeless services center that has been the focus of controversy among homeowners, businesses, city planners and the city council since its opening in late 2018 and even before. It has recently been evaluated in the city’s “Navigation Center Third Party Assessment,” as part of a multi-year assessment of the growing challenge of homelessness and its impact on business, public safety, property values and other factors.

But all misgivings we had about the Navigation Center were forgotten in our relief that we were within a short walk of his objective. “You’re almost there — it’s close! You’re going to make it,” we told him. We three continued uphill, he weighed down by his tattered grocery bag containing what we took to be his only possessions.

“I worked all my life. I’m no bum,” he wanted us to know. We assured him we knew that. Trudging uphill with him, we learned the outlines of his life story. After years of employment, his mental health failed. No family survived to help him. His mother fell to dementia, his brother committed suicide. What an overwhelming story of ill luck. There but for the grace of God go many of us, we two thought. “God bless you,” was all we had to offer him.

Stop on the road

At that, the gloom lifted and something extraordinary happened. He smiled and felt for something around his neck, but then terrified it was gone. A cross on a chain — he wanted us to know it was there, not lost. “The Methodist Church invited me in.” (He didn’t specify which one; many Vancouver churches serve the homeless.) We were all thankful.

Our mood buoyed, we crested the hill, bringing the Navigation Center mercifully into view. “It’s right there. It’s downhill from here,” we encouraged the Seeker.

What happened to the Seeker? We’ll never know. That morning, a crowd of homeless men and women waited for the center to open, some smoking, their belongings mixed with scattered trash, cigarette butts and liquor bottles on the ground.

We doubted the Seeker’s quest would end at the Navigation Center. But that day, it was a desperately needed stop on the road.

We won’t forget the Seeker or the profound impact a church’s outreach achieved for one homeless man.

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