Who We Are - A Home of Their Own

What We Believe:

Hardworking people should be able to afford housing and still have enough money for groceries and other basic necessities.
Children deserve an opportunity to succeed in school and life, which is tied to having a stable home.
Housing gives people an opportunity to build better lives. To succeed you need a place to call home.
It’s only fair that everyone has a safe, decent place to live. Seniors, people with disabilities and single parents ought to have housing they can afford.

Who We Are

We are concerned people of faith who wish to do better by our neighbors who are without a place of their own, a place to call home. We support the Ten Year Plan to End Homelessness in Washington County. It is not OK with us that children do not have a bed of their own in which to sleep. It is not OK with us that one quarter of those who are homeless nationwide are veterans who served our country in the military. We also believe that turning away from the problem is wrong and wastes money. Across the country communities are learning that they can do right by homeless people and spend less in the long run. We support such an approach here in Washington County, Oregon.

Interfaith Committee on Homelessness Board members Ramsay Weit, Eric Canon and Russ Dondero testify before the Washington County Commissioners. ICH Board member Marty Moyer holds a photograph while supporters display banner. The occasion was the second check presentation of $12,174.07 raised by ICH for the four County shelters (about $19,000 total was raised).

Contemplations - Writings that expand our sense of what it is to be homeless

This letter was written by a woman who now has a home. She wrote the letter so that others would know what it is like to be out in the cold.

The Joys of Being Homeless with Mental Disorders

Finding a tent, blankets, tarps, string and bungee cords. Finding a wooded area along a buss or Max line so as to be able to come and go. Have to be able to go far enough back to stay or hide from others. Have to consider local animal population as in skunks and raccoons, mosquitoes, poisonous spiders and many other types of insects. Always worried about the police and, worse yet, tweekers and rapists who find you and assault you. Always worrying if your stuff will be there every night and wondering if there will be mean people waiting for you to arrive. During the winter months constantly getting wet – soaked when leaving camp in the mornings and staying that way all day long. We found a dead body upon leaving camp one morning taking a different route. Always worried if I will see my loved one come home every night. Worry, worry, worry. Having major social phobia. Not being able to ask for or receive help and no one willing to help anyway. Why try??? Not able to cook anything but basic meals due to not being able to build a fire. Hide, hide, hide. No end to our situation in sight ever! No one really cares. Having to smell your own stench day after day. Wet blankets. Not knowing how to help our selves or even if there's help out there. And too scared and nervous to go to any agency anyway. Shop lifting to get necessities and not caring id I get caught. Very very very very no self esteem. Feel looked down upon. Feel like the scourge of the earth. Feel sub-human. Not being able to bath and have access to clean clothing. Loosing all hope. Hiding from the world. Can't carry on conversations due to lack of self esteem. Why bother looking for housing when we know it will never happen. Sinking deeper and deeper and deeper into our holes till there's only relief in death. 9-21-05

A Poem, written by Windi Withycombe

The Man

A man walks by me
His head held down.
He is pushing his cart
Through the streets of town.
His hair is all matted
His clothes, dirty and torn.
His feet sticking out of
Shoes that are well worn.
I try to smile as he comes my way
I would like to help him
So I started to pray.
I see all the years etched on his face
They have not been kind to him
In this hardened place.
He glances up at me as if to say…
“Do you really care... if I live another day”?
He sees the shock registering in my eyes
I see his pain and hear his sighs.
I want to say, “I’m sorry”… I want to shout
But with a lump in my throat
Not a sound comes out.
I want to speak... I want to cry.
But I just turn from him and walked on by
I walked away… my head held down
As the man pushed his cart through the streets of my town.
by Windi Withycombe

WHAT CAN I DO?
Go to this page. There are many ways to help, and the first step is to recognize the need. If you're there, if you've taken that first step and understand the need exists, please take the next step and explore your options.
See just where help is needed and what programs need your support. Thank you for wanting to do more!