Ponce

Today, I was wandering through the parking lot when I saw a Crown Vic pull into the parking lot. I knew the car immediately. It was Big Mama, a woman I met through Ponce, one of our former residents in the Housing Navigation Center.

There was a point in time when Big Mama was discouraged from being on the property. The word on the street was that she was dealing out of her car, and we tend to frown on that in the parking lot. But I always liked Big Mama, for there was a time when she really helped us out.

Sometime earlier this year, I got a call from Darrin, a friend in the outreach community. “There is a homeless camp behind the closed Hardees across the street from the church. The police are there kicking folks off the property, and we need to go help them.”

So I headed across the street and found a 5 tent encampment. Honestly, it was one of the cleanest camps I’ve ever seen. The tents were all lined up, and several had welcome mats out in front of them. There was a small fire, but there was no trash around. When we got there, we found 9 or 10 residents freaked out by the presence of the police who were telling them they had to leave. We were able to negotiate a delay in moving these folks out, although little did we know that this work would all fall apart a few hours later.

One of these residents was Ponce. He was clean cut, articulate, and clearly intelligent. He was sharing his tent with a young woman with some mental health issues as a protector, and he was a calming presence in the camp.

I left and took my wife Mary out to dinner. As we were leaving, I got a call from the police precinct commander. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said, “but the property owner is demanding that we move these folks immediately.” It was pushing 8 p.m, darkness was close by, and these folks were being told to pack up all their belongings and vacate the property as soon as possible Obviously, the residents of the camp were scared, frustrated, angry, and traumatized. And, they had no place to go.

I looked at Darrin and made an executive decision.

“Okay,” I said, “Let’s move them to the gym at our church across the street.”

And suddenly we had opened an emergency shelter for ten homeless folk.

Folks brought all there stuff across the street, headed up into the gym, and setup their tents. We thought it was a shelter. They thought it was a camp — and for a week or so it was.

And, among all the residents, Ponce was a leader. He was calm, articulate, and willing to help others follow the rules necessary to allow folks to live together. He had a girlfriend — Big Mama — who drove a Crown Vic that brought trays of food for our guests. And, a week later, we were happy to welcome Ponce into our transitional living program. I thought he was a perfect candidate. He seemed ready to get off the streets, change his life, and move toward stability. What I didn’t know was that his charm masked an ongoing drug problem that he simply wasn’t ready to give up. While you don’t have to be clean to live with us, his drug issues began to cause behavioral problems. We gave him chance upon chance, even hiring him as a house manager for a bit, but in the end it didn’t work out, and he left the program for the streets.

So, yesterday, I was surprised when I saw Big Mama’s Crown Vic drive into the parking lot. We hadn’t seen her since Ponce left, and honestly I hadn’t heard from Ponce in a while.

She rolled down the window. “Pastor Jay,” she told me, “Ponce’s dead.”

She told me he had been found dead at the downtown bus station. The cause of death isn’t fully known — Ponce had a variety of health issues. But, the word on the street was that he had overdosed. I know we experienced at least one overdose incident with him while he was in our program, so I’m not fully surprised.

I liked Ponce. We had some great conversations and I saw so much potential for good in him. And, in hearing of his death, I wonder how we failed him in bringing forth healing and hope. He was a good man. He was also and addict. The two descriptors are never mutually exclusive. But, in the end, the demons of addiction caught up with him and he is no more.

I’m sad today, although it’s a familiar story.

Rest well Ponce. The demons are gone.