HOME-LESS: I DON’T THINK SO

 

I remember when my wife and I first pitched our tent deep in the Douglasville woods- it was last February, and a winter chill remained from the previous day’s rain. We had a small two-person tent, but it was a four-season tent, so we remained warm as my wife, our two dogs, and myself, cuddled together throughout that first cold night. It was a humbling experience, yet we had each other… and that was enough. The next morning, the chill remained, but we were serenaded by the birds when we woke, and after taking in the fragrance of freedom that, to me, only isolation provides, I was at peace, and I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Slowly, I began building our home in the woods. We moved from the two-person tent into a four-person tent, and then months later, into an eight-person tent. After sleeping on the hard ground for a long time, we purchased a mattress (it is the small things, like a simple mattress, that we appreciated so much, having gone without for so long), and eventually we filled the large tent with carpet, dressers, tables, and little items that make living outside easier.

Once we obtained a generator, we had light, a heater for the oncoming winter, and the ability to charge electronic appliances. I spent months constructing a fence- fortifying our home in the woods, creating a sense of security from the wildlife that wandered close by. Keeping the entire area clean and sanitary, even building a shower room, I can look at what we built, especially during this holiday season, and truly say, “This is our home . . .”

 

 

 

Is it a third-world existence? Maybe it is, but I am not home-less, for my wife and I enjoy the seclusion and peace, and we are comfortable in our environment, for we have made the best of what would otherwise be considered a miserable existence. Would a little house in the country be better? Of course, it would!! But we do not have that luxury, and our income would never allow us to live in an environment free from people who like to create unnecessary drama. Yet, peace, at least for my wife and I, tends not to last very long. . .

Two months after moving into the woods, an alcoholic pitched his tent a hundred yards away. He was a nice guy, who had plans to construct his own little place of peace- he was an older man who received a check every month, but he did not make enough money to rent an apartment and live comfortably. However, because of his addiction to alcohol, another alcoholic joined him, and pitched his tent next to that old man’s camp. Days later, the first methamphetamine addict moved into the woods, and then the terrain quickly filled with human refuse.

It was not long before the old man was run out by the many addicts swarming the trees, and from that moment, to this present day, a dozen addicts have moved in; those whose lives revolve around depravity and darkness. They soil themselves, scream, shout, steal, and dance around the flames of their campfires, burning trash as insence, and worshiping their demons- giving them obeisance through addiction.

Many of them prey upon the weak, upon the churches, giving sob stories to garner sympathy to obtain handouts, this so they can continue to play Russian roulette with their needles, which are eventually left on the ground- evidence of a shameless soul.

What am I left with? I can longer walk the trails, since piles of human feces topped with wads of soiled toilet paper obstruct the once peaceful paths- there are so many festering piles of human waste waiting to spread disease; evidence of human depravity and a care-less attitude. Garbage is carried with the wind, left for rats, roaches, and possums to feed upon (which have increased in number), and mounds of garbage litter the environment. The smell of urine replaces the sweet aroma of pine that once filled the virgin trees, which are left violated, groaning in travail until the sons of men go to their graves.

Are they sad souls? Yes, they are, and many have deep, internal, psychological wounds that will NEVER heal. Some get employment, which helps them maintain their addiction. A few weeks ago, I talked to a homeless guy and he was happy that someone gave him a job (holding advertisement signs along a busy road), but a few days ago I ran into him again, and he was completely doped out, looking pale and skinny. I know the business owner meant well, but the result of that charity was wasted (discernment must be applied in these situations).

Why do these sad individuals continue in their depravity? Because you, the American people, empower them, and provide them with exactly what they need to be happy. They are truly home-less, because they erect a tent not to live in peace, but to pass out inside after drinking all day, or crashing after a meth binge that kept them awake for several days.

Who provides them with the drugs and alcohol? You, the American people- every time you hand them cash. You believe the cardboard sign they are holding, or the sad, contorted expressions they force upon their faces. Trust me, the stories they tell, and the faces they make, are absolutely fake, and they are created to prey upon your sympathy.

I will repeat myself on this matter, STOP GIVING HOMELESS PEOPLE CASH!! (but if you do, please use discernment- if you feel your heart burning for the destitute, think about material items rather than cash). You don’t have to live around them, my wife and I do, and every time you give the addicts money, you put the small percentage of homeless people like my wife and I in danger (the ones who would actually appreciate benevolence).

You don’t have to be concerned about the meth addict wandering around the woods chasing shadow people and lights. I do.

You don’t have to worry about the deadly diseases and garbage these addicts spread and create. I do.

You get to leave your home in peace. I cannot, for these meth addicts will steal everything without a second thought.

Just a week ago a young couple moved into the woods, and after approaching them, I noticed a young girl rolling around on the ground moaning and crying, saying, “Oh my God, it hurts so bad…. I can’t take it anymore!”

I asked what that was all about, and her boyfriend said she was detoxing, since she had not consumed alcohol in twelve hours. She was two months pregnant, but she kept yelling, “I don’t care about this damn baby! It can die for all I care! I just need some alcohol!!”

And she proceeds to force the boyfriend to fly a sign begging for money at a nearby interstate on-ramp… Hours later I see her happy, taking swigs from a bottle of alcohol, since some person gave them cash.

Anyway- this rant is over. Maybe people will listen, maybe they won’t, but at the end of the day, I will still be dealing with more empowered addicts wandering into these woods. My heart aches for them, it really does, and I will continue to be a positive beacon for the lost. Their presence might force me to pack up and move on, but even if I do have to move, I know that my wife and I are intrepid, and I will choose to remain in the light, and though souls shatter like glass all around me . . . I will continue to press on.