Our Newsletters

Reflection by Sarah Buckler, Supportive Housing Manager

After work today, I laced up my running shoes and headed toward downtown Louisville to bear witness to the events unfolding in our city. I exited the day shelter for homeless men where I work, where 47% of the people served are African American, in a city whose makeup is only 23.46% black.

As I made my way west and the buildings grew taller, I took in the vestiges of the protests  – some broken windows, some spray paint. I saw police placing barricades around Jefferson Street near the courthouse. Onlookers peacefully watched and witnessed, preparing for all that is to come. I jumped off and on sidewalks to make space for our city’s quick response to the physical destruction: crews covering broken windows, preventative plywood being installed over other windows, new mulch being laid around downtown’s few-and-far-between trees.

Here is what breaks my heart: the signs of physical destruction are so visible. So tangible. So FIXABLE. The wounds of racism, on the other hand, run so deep, they fracture our structures to their very core. The scars of racism can’t be boarded up with plywood, painted over and covered up. Their roots intertwine with the wounds of poverty, of sexism, of laws made to promote those in power.

We (I) have to dig deeper. We (I) have to get below the surface, beyond glass and bricks, down into the dirt. What would it look like if our city’s response to Breonna Taylor’s murder had been as immediate as the mobilization to protect our buildings? When do we stop saying that black people are more likely to be poor or homeless, and realize we have the power to change the narrative? What can we (I) do to listen to people suffering from injustice so I can prevent pain from becoming so visceral it shatters glass?

Moving Home 

For the last two months, people in our community have been following the call to be healthy at home.  The  request is impossible for our neighbors who have no place of their own.  

That’s why the whole St. John Center family celebrated with Jeff  and Ishaq, who both moved into their own apartments last week. Moving in to permanent housing is always the goal at St. John Center – but during the pandemic, that goal is harder to reach.

Jeff’s housing counselor, Tom, said move-in day “makes me miss our volunteers all the more.” On March 16th, St. John Center temporarily suspended the 17 daily volunteers who provide core shelter services.  This means that Tom, and all of SJC’s limited staff, are covering the basic shelter functions and have less time for their normal day-to-day work. 

In a “normal” time, housing counselors drive with clients to see apartments, help them fill out sometimes very complicated applications, and address barriers like old bills, accessibility requirements, and language differences in order to move toward permanent housing. 

Right now, the road to housing is an even longer one for people experiencing homelessness — while the need for housing is more urgent than ever.  In these times,  as in every time, we are working every day to ensure everyone has the ability to be healthy at home.

A Message from Maria 

We are used to being the place of calm in the midst of chaos; a sanctuary for our homeless neighbors, an oasis.  But the coronavirus pandemic upended our normal course of business.  The first weeks felt like chaos at St. John Center, too.

On March 17, we asked volunteers to stay home in order to ensure their safety.  Since then, staff have had to cover the essential services provided by the daytime shelter – mail service for as many as 700 clients a month, showers and access to bathrooms and a hygiene routine, a safe place out of the elements. 

Doors of access have literally closed for our clients throughout the city.  Community centers, stores, and libraries are closed.  Just as we needed to practice social distancing, people were coming to the shelter in droves.  One gentleman drove from Hardin County because he heard he could get a shower at St. John’s.  He lives in his pickup truck.

In order to follow CDC guidelines, we now have seating for only 24 people at a time, down from 55. Yet we are welcoming almost as many guests to the Center.  We are helping hundreds of people a day keep up with information that changes constantly.  Loss and grief are ever-present, as people with so few options are left with less.  Many in our community are stuck in their homes right now. People who are homeless today will be stuck there even longer. 

How do we remain steady in the midst of upheaval? We accept the unexpected gifts of staying present to the moment, being completely present to the person in front of us, and being ever so grateful for the St. John Center family that buoys our work.  Your generosity in this time – gifts of toilet paper and hand sanitizer, financial support that ensures staff can continue to work, and lovingly made treats for our staff – sustain us.  Soon, very soon, we hope to see you here again.  Thank you.