Despair. Not a word I really understood until I began my work at Seeds of Hope. For most of us the word immediately brings up an atmosphere of sadness and sometimes fear. Why sadness? Because whether it is our own or another’s, we often don’t immediately see how to move through it to come out on the other side in a hopefully better, stronger place. Why fear? Because we ponder the possibility that there is no path to relief; and what feels like the only possible outcome – permanent escape.
In the early years, one of the primary missions of Seeds of Hope was to seek solutions to despair. Not easy marching orders, but we quickly learned that what we needed to do most was listen – deeply, compassionately, and non-judgmentally. One who is struggling often knows what will bring relief if there are just the means to bring it about. That was our job. And thankfully we were usually able to help make it happen, or at least make the connections to those who could. One of our earliest neighbors to risk entering our doors and asking for help was a kind gentle man with a long history of alcoholism and abuse of other substances. He was barely able to care for himself, living in a group home where he found the close quarters stifling. We learned from him that he needed companionship on his journey to break his cycle of self-destruction. Loss of his earlier life was unbearable. Our job was to love him; welcome him in whatever condition he was in when he entered; be present to him, listening as he worked through his demons. There were times when we weren’t sure he would win that battle. But after years of support, he was able to gain enough self-confidence and sobriety to begin to live independently and recover some of his earlier passions.
His story is not unique in the work of Seeds of Hope. It repeated itself over and over. Seeds of Hope is in a community much like others in that there was a growing population of the invisible – those experiencing homelessness, food insecurity, addiction, mental health struggles and isolation. Invisible because citizens either intentionally denied their existence or were not insightful enough to actually see what was in front of them. How many times did we get the question – “Does Biddeford/Southern Maine have a homeless problem?” As the numbers climbed over the years, which they continue to do in alarming numbers, our work became much harder. Relief was becoming difficult to achieve, requiring significant collaboration with agencies, social service organizations, faith communities, and committed individuals. As we all know, it is a national problem. But that can’t be used as an excuse for doing nothing, waiting on the state or region or federal government to find the solution. The challenge for those working at Seeds of Hope and other service organizations is that the lack of solutions is creating a growing hopelessness which can lead to despair.
As I mentioned when starting this blog, I generally won’t use names or identifying information in order to respect people’s confidentiality and dignity. However, this is one of the few times I will ever do so. The reason is that their lives were sadly but essentially made very public because of their journey. And given the public knowledge, it helps to bring the tragedy and humanity before us in stark reality. Their names were Shawnia and Ricky – half siblings in their early 20’s. Shawnia was known to be friendly, kind and helpful to others who struggle. Less was reported about Ricky’s background. Both struggled with homelessness, mental health challenges, and substance use disorders but were exploring recovery options. While we will never know the specifics of their final hours, we know that they had been using Seeds of Hope and other services up to the day they died. Friends reported that they had mentioned suicide, but as is often the case, we either don’t believe that it will happen or we freeze, not knowing how to evaluate its actual possibility or how to act if recognized. What is known is that on a Sunday morning in May 2022 they were later seen on a surveillance camera hugging each other and lying down on train tracks where they died by suicide. This action and subsequent revelations were tattooed on my heart.
The majority of us can’t fathom this level of despair. For those who knew them, it was a punch in the gut. And always questioning, what did we miss, could we have done something to prevent it? Those are questions that will never have answers. We can’t change the past, but we must learn as much as we can to try to prevent more tragedies – if they are preventable. For those of us at Seeds of Hope, the secondary shock was the initial media coverage. The railway company reminded the public that Ricky and Shawnia were trespassing on railway property. Interviews with the train passengers who were inconvenienced by the hours needed to investigate the tragedy. A total disregard of the beautiful lives lost to the world and the pain which led to that action.
Thankfully a local paper recognized the same callousness and did an in-depth story of their lives, as much as was known. They shared pictures and stories from family and friends. The story was widely gaining visibility into the personal impact of despair. For a brief moment, it felt as if our communities paused. Out of this unbelievable shock and sadness I truly believed that this would finally be the moment where local towns would rise up and declare “Never again in our community.” But it never happened. Very quickly conversation reverted to the “problem” of homelessness on our streets and in business doorways, trash at local encampments, prevalence of syringe needles in public areas, but never concrete solutions. Those of us in the community who have served our struggling neighbors for years continued to be expected to carry the burden of immediate assistance and solutions.
Because I am spiritually and occupationally grounded in Hope, I was happy to learn that Biddeford and Saco partnered to hire nationally known consultants to offer meaningful solutions. Many were interviewed and we anxiously await the report and community response. May this be the moment when great minds meet compassionate hearts, that we might have the courage to find both immediate and long-term answers and the wisdom to choose to make them happen.
I will be forever grateful to those precious children of God who have taught me so much about despair, resilience, generosity from those who have so little, dignity, and hope.
Celtic Priest 