“I’m a hell of a cleaner. I just want to help.” A neighbor said that to us last week while dropping off snacks, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. This one’s long, but I promise it’s worth five minutes of your time.
People ask me all the time what it takes to run the Homeless Resource Center here in Lawrence, KS. I want to show you what one Monday looked like, because the answer isn’t what most people expect.
On Monday we lined up a flu and COVID shot clinic with Lawrence-Douglas County Public Health. We worked with KU’s IT folks to fix the WiFi, because when your phone is your lifeline to a job, a caseworker, or your family, WiFi isn’t a perk. We helped someone get ready for a driver’s license exam. We worked through a housing assistance application. We coordinated with Douglas County on one of our guests.
The phone rang all day. A social services office calling about a check. A guest calling to say he needed to get to work. A call from someone who didn’t feel safe and needed to know who to turn to. And one of our guests emailed me a song he wrote, because he wanted me to hear it. That one stuck with me.
In between all of that: a glass invoice, a scaffolding rental, a meeting with our architects to finalize our application with the City of Lawrence so we can expand our daily hours of service, a grant update, plans with the Lawrence Public Library for winter donations, a student who wants to learn about this work, and a youth group trying to figure out how they can get involved.
That’s one day. And none of that includes the work happening on the floor at the same time: coordinating services with our on-site partners and volunteers, 15 showers, 6 loads of laundry, 20 people receiving mail, and handing out hundreds of emergency resources like toiletries, over-the-counter meds, clothing, and naloxone.
None of it fits neatly in a box, and almost none of it is something we can do alone.
Which brings me back to those snacks. Last week someone walked in and said, “Hi, I follow you on TikTok and Facebook and I saw you needed snacks, so I went to the dollar store to get what I could.” Then another neighbor came by with a bag of snacks and said, “I saw on Facebook that you were in need. I’ve really been struggling with my mental health lately, but I have to get outside of my head. I’m a hell of a cleaner. I can help with that or sorting donations. I just want to help.”
Tears. Literally.
Here’s what I want you to know. We get no city or county funding. Every shower, every meal, every shot clinic, every hour of WiFi is possible because people in Lawrence and across Douglas County see a need and show up. Volunteers who come back every week. Partners who bring their expertise right into our building. Folks who give $10 when $10 is what they have. People who share a post so the right person sees it. And people who are carrying their own heavy stuff, and still walk through the door with a bag of snacks.
You don’t have to have it all together to have something to offer. You don’t need a big check, a free weekend, or a special skill. If you can clean, sort, cook, drive, listen, share, or just show up, there is a place for you here. Some of the most important help we’ve gotten came from people who thought they had nothing to give.
We don’t do this work alone and hand it to our community. We get to do it with our community, as a community, for our community. That’s beautiful, and it is a deep, deep privilege.
To everyone in Lawrence who sees our posts and doesn’t scroll past but answers the call: thank you. You are the reason our doors open. So eternally grateful.
If something in you is saying “I want to be part of this,” we want to help you find your spot. It might be volunteering, donating, or something we haven’t thought of yet that only you can bring. You can sign up to volunteer here or give here. We’d love to meet you.
And if this post meant something to you, please share it. The next person who walks through our door with a bag of snacks might be someone in your feed.
Much love!