Crescimento Limpo, Supportive Housing for Homeless

Two days ago I was on a “very important call”… the subject of which I've long forgotten now. As I was trying to focus, I started getting incessant calls from two unknown contacts. I have to admit that I tried my best to ignore them, trying to deal with my “important” matters at hand. Fourteen missed calls in I finally took the call.

My caller was a woman sobbing. She identified herself as the aunt of one of our recent residents and was calling from far across the country - Bahia, Brazil. She told me she had just been notified of her nephew’s death in an unknown location, and pleaded with me to help find him so that he wouldn’t be buried without being iddentified. My heart sank. I realized how unimportant my previous concerns had been.

My evening followed with calls and visits to hospitals. I found my friend in the morgue of our neighboring city. I identified him and was given a long list of tasks and processes so that his burial could take place the following day. The burial is very fast in Brazil, usually within 24 hours of death.

Returning to CL I shared the news with our residents, and it hit hard. They spoke of memories and how the permanence of the loss hurt.

More family members called, and plans were made for four relatives to come from São Paulo to attend the funeral and burial, including my friend’s mom. They had never met us and were understandably suspicious, unsure what kind of influence we had been.

I was able to receive them as they arrived in Itu before the funeral. Over lunch I listened to their stories and shared some of my own. Their loved one had fought a real fight to seek what was good and to find redemption and I shared stories for which they could be proud of him. Our guests were broken, but they began to speak of relief in perceiving that the CL program—which their loved one had come to know as “home”—was indeed a supportive home.

Next, we met at the funeral. Our guests were received by our psychologist, house monitors, our “house mom,” and nine current and former CL residents. During the funeral service we offered, we talked about how our friend loved to sing praise songs and to seek God’s presence at church, in small group Bible studies, and in support groups. We told of how he was a great cook and how our house members looked forward to the dinners he was responsible for. We talked about how he had worked in the construction of our café and the pride he took in his professional development.

Our friend’s mom said something that marked me. She said, “I’m sad, but I am so happy to know that my son had this family! I thought he was abandoned and alone, but he wasn’t abandoned or alone. I am so happy to know that he was loved!”

After the burial, we asked the family to join us at our café to see the beautiful building that their son had helped us build and to eat before their journey home. We all sat around the big table at our café and continued to share stories about life, past and present. It was a wonderful conversation filled with relief, laughter, deep connection, and joy. Our friends left saying that they wanted to stay, and making plans to return for a longer visit.

The CL team, residents, and I came away marveling at how connection is healing—how important it is to love and to express that love in the midst of pain, and the importance of coming around those who mourn to bring comfort. I am forever thankful to be able to do what we do, and through this housing project to witness the “sainthood” of broken men extending compassion to the brokenhearted.

Links:

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