I Am Your Shelter

The Creative Coast's Innovation Awards ceremony was chic and hip and eclectic. A block of Broughton Street, Savannah's main drag, was blocked off in front of the renovated Trustee's Theater for cocktails and food. The awards ceremony was inside later. Union Mission won an innovation award last year in the inaugural ceremony. This year I had been one of the Judges and was looking forward to an evening celebrating a lot of things.

Then my cell phone rang and, seeing it was Letitia Robinson, Vice-President of Housing for Union Mission, I made my way to a quiet area and took the call. With emotion in her voice, she told me that Paul was dead.

My mind immediately carried me back to the worst days of the collapse of SABHC when Union Mission was doing everything that it could to save the collaborative while a mean spirited group of people fiercely fought to destroy it. I stumbled into the Resident Manager's office, we call it the cage, still groggy and exhausted from the previous day. Pouring myself a cup of coffee, Paul sat at the desk with the newspaper spread in front of. He was a large man, with a happy face and an electric smile and an infectious laugh.

Turning in his chair to face me, I saw pain in his large brown eyes. "They saying hurtful things about us," he said.

It was me that they were saying "hurtful" things about but Paul included himself in the efforts to make things better in Savannah for all. It was curious because at the time Paul was homeless, living in Grace House and working hard to improve his own life after a series of events led to his poverty.

"We gonna make it?" he continued.

From somewhere inside of me came an energy that I didn't think I had, and I patted him on the back and told him that we would.

"That's good," he said with his electric smile, "there are too many people who need us."

Walking to my office I shook my head thinking that strength often comes from the most unlikely sources.

Since that day, things did get better. For both Union Mission and for Paul. Though SABHC was purposely destroyed, Union Mission recovered from the trauma of the experience and is again focusing on carrying out its mission. And Paul moved into Beyond Grace, got a job, bought a truck, and became a coach to all of the residents of Grace House. Just this week he finished painting Lauren's office for her. And now he is gone.

As I was thinking these things on my run this morning, the darkness gave way to a beautiful sunrise. A thin wisp of clouds hung just over the ocean, so the rising sun cast off a dazzling array of lights, purples and blues and yellows and reds. A line of ships were heading out to sea, the furthest only a dot on the horizon but the last one was clearly visible. On the starboard rail, I could make out the shadow of a man waving back towards the land.

I raised my hand and waved back. Thank you Paul. You'll never know how much a homeless man can come to mean to someone. You did good.