Thursday, April 3, 2008 at 1:01am
Sanctuary
Last evening I attended a fundraiser for a local non-profit named The Sanctuary. I get many invitations to events of this type, from pleas for funds for zoos to restoration of trout streams, building of community centers to football stadiums for schools. The programs vary; usually there is a dinner or cocktail hour, a time for meeting the people involved in the project, and a performance of some type of entertainment.
On this particular evening, the "entertainment" portion of the program consisted of four women whose lives had been impacted by the center, women who have been or are residents of The Sanctuary. Their stories told through personal experience what it was like to be one of the forgotten.
The clients of this residential program are women who have reached the rock bottom of society, their lives consisting of just surviving. They were addicts and prostitutes who had no other place to go. Many have been incarcerated, with no one to turn to, once their time has been served. As their stories unfolded, we heard of abuse suffered in childhood, both physical and sexual. We listened as they related what it was like to live on the streets. How many of them had no other option than using their bodies to obtain money for food and their habit. One told how an uncle gave her "Meth" for a toothache when she was far too young know the consequences of addiction.
All their stories related how they had never had what they considered a safe place to live. Many times it was their family, the ones we should be able to trust, who initiated the downward spiral. Three of them were very young; one was a grandmother, and the greatest reward she received was being able to hold her grandchildren, being trusted with them. She looked forward with anticipation to the day she would have a place of her own where her children and grandchildren could visit, a safe place.
As the stories unfolded, I was first struck by the honesty. The volunteers and counselors at The Sanctuary were teaching then not to be ashamed. They were teaching them that through their own stories they might help others. They were learning the most important thing was what you did now, today. What you did in living from this time forward. They were learning they could be productive members of society. Many had been beaten so low, they did not believe they had anything to contribute.
They related how people from the center had visited them in jail, accompanied them to court, taken them to exercise and explore the world as a source of enjoyment, rather than the hell on earth they had experienced this far. They were taught job skills and living skills, but the greatest gift they were being given was hope.
One of the ladies told how she had learned to be invisible. By being invisible, she avoided pain, incarceration and shame. Now she was visible, sitting in front of a room full of strangers, relating to them how her life had changed. Her hope was that her story might in some way help someone else.
The Sanctuary takes the women who have nowhere else to go. There is no other service like it in Chattanooga. They can only take six people at a time, and there is a waiting list.
If you would like to learn more about this organization, and learn how you can help, visit its website.
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Michael Gray is the author of "Life; Through a Child's Eyes." His email address is {email graysigsys@aol.com}graysigsys@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2008 by Michael Gray
On this particular evening, the "entertainment" portion of the program consisted of four women whose lives had been impacted by the center, women who have been or are residents of The Sanctuary. Their stories told through personal experience what it was like to be one of the forgotten.
The clients of this residential program are women who have reached the rock bottom of society, their lives consisting of just surviving. They were addicts and prostitutes who had no other place to go. Many have been incarcerated, with no one to turn to, once their time has been served. As their stories unfolded, we heard of abuse suffered in childhood, both physical and sexual. We listened as they related what it was like to live on the streets. How many of them had no other option than using their bodies to obtain money for food and their habit. One told how an uncle gave her "Meth" for a toothache when she was far too young know the consequences of addiction.
All their stories related how they had never had what they considered a safe place to live. Many times it was their family, the ones we should be able to trust, who initiated the downward spiral. Three of them were very young; one was a grandmother, and the greatest reward she received was being able to hold her grandchildren, being trusted with them. She looked forward with anticipation to the day she would have a place of her own where her children and grandchildren could visit, a safe place.
As the stories unfolded, I was first struck by the honesty. The volunteers and counselors at The Sanctuary were teaching then not to be ashamed. They were teaching them that through their own stories they might help others. They were learning the most important thing was what you did now, today. What you did in living from this time forward. They were learning they could be productive members of society. Many had been beaten so low, they did not believe they had anything to contribute.
They related how people from the center had visited them in jail, accompanied them to court, taken them to exercise and explore the world as a source of enjoyment, rather than the hell on earth they had experienced this far. They were taught job skills and living skills, but the greatest gift they were being given was hope.
One of the ladies told how she had learned to be invisible. By being invisible, she avoided pain, incarceration and shame. Now she was visible, sitting in front of a room full of strangers, relating to them how her life had changed. Her hope was that her story might in some way help someone else.
The Sanctuary takes the women who have nowhere else to go. There is no other service like it in Chattanooga. They can only take six people at a time, and there is a waiting list.
If you would like to learn more about this organization, and learn how you can help, visit its website.
— — —
Michael Gray is the author of "Life; Through a Child's Eyes." His email address is {email graysigsys@aol.com}graysigsys@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2008 by Michael Gray