On a November night in Columbia, dozens of homeless people wait for Room at the Inn to open back up. Usually, folks spend the hour outside the shelter, chatting, smoking and resting.
But tonight, it’s cold and rainy, so they’re packed closely together inside the shelter’s lobby. Well, most of them are. Outside, Derek Adam is bundled up with a broom in his hand, sweeping wrappers and cigarette butts off the pavilion.
“I just want to give back,” he said.
That’s not the only way he gives back. In the span of about half an hour, he holds onto a woman’s wheelchair while she temporarily leaves the shelter and helps direct an ambulance to a person who needs medical attention. He does all this while continuing to sweep and chat with others.
Adam’s commitment and closeness to the community is part of the reason Room at the Inn’s staff believed he’d be a great fit for the shelter’s new transition program.
Room at the Inn is entering its second year of being Columbia’s year-round homeless shelter. Every night, it keeps around 80 people off the streets. Aiming to do more to help the city’s homeless population, it started a transition program last April with the goal of helping people find long-term solutions to their situations.
The program has Adam and about nine others work with a case manager to create a step-by-step plan for how to improve their lives. Depending on their starting point, those steps could mean finding housing, applying for jobs or just getting an ID.
In the meantime, they also complete chores around the shelter.
“People feel good if they can contribute to their own well-being,” said John Trapp, Room at the Inn’s executive director. “So the folks, a lot of them, like the chores because they're giving back and then that helps with their self-worth.”
“Just being a consumer of services isn't good for anyone's mental health,” he added. “Being able to contribute back is a positive thing.”
The transition program also comes with privileges. Instead of sleeping on cots, people in the program get beds. And they can leave their belongings in a personal locker at the shelter during the day instead of having to lug it around town.
“It allows them to present to the public as not being homeless, because if you don't have a backpack and a lot of stuff, you look just like everyone else on the street,” Trapp said.
Tim Johnston is from Kansas City and has been homeless for years. He’s part of the transition program, helping out in the kitchen.
He said his health issues brought him to Columbia and Room at the Inn.
“I've had two heart attacks, I've got seven stents, I'm Type 2 diabetic,” he said. “I was in Jeff(erson) City, but I just couldn't get around. I couldn't walk the hills and stuff, because of my heart. I came here for the flatter grounds and free bus service.”
The perks of the transition program help his health issues, he said.
"The beds have a mattress about that thick," Johnston said, holding his hands about six inches apart. "Compared to the cots, which have nothing, it’s a little more comfort."
“I've gone from carrying three bags and a folding chair to one backpack and a chair,” he added. “I keep all my clothes and stuff in the locker. It makes it a lot easier to be able to get around.”
Now, Johnston is looking for a place to live. He’s optimistic, in part, because he’s had Kinetta Crisp, Room at the Inn’s case worker, to help him navigate the process. She also helps people get medical care, work training and government assistance, processes she said can be esoteric.
“It's kind of like if you were to go to a city that speaks minimal English and have nobody else there, and then you have to figure out how to make it work,” she said. “That's kind of what it is like to be unhoused whenever you don't have those supports,” she said.
While Crisp can help people with many of the challenges they face, a lot is out of her control.
A recent study confirmed Boone County’s most pressing local housing issue is a lack of affordability at all income levels, largely caused by a housing shortage.
“Until we address that as an issue, I think it's just going to become more and more of a problem,” Crisp said.
Plus, she’s only one person, and that means a lot of requests can get backlogged, and she has to do a lot of multi-tasking.
“I have a 12-passenger van, so if we all need to go get a social security card, we're all getting in the van to get a social security card,” Crisp said. “If I can do group things that everybody needs to get done, I'm more than happy to do that, and it's always nice whenever you are able to accomplish those things.”
For some people, finding housing isn’t on the top of their minds. Many are dealing with debilitating conditions and addictions that preclude them from quickly moving on from the shelter.
That’s why Trapp doesn’t base compliance with the transition program on any particular outcome.
“As long as they continue to make progress, they stay in that program,” he said. “It's my theory that as long as somebody's making progress, they're going to eventually succeed, no matter how small that daily progress is.”
While he’s a successful member of the program, Adam has found himself at a crossroads. Of course, he’d like his own place, especially because it would show everybody at the shelter that they can improve their lives. But he’s hesitant to leave them.
“I prefer to be needed here,” he said. “I like to see people get a better place to lay down at night.”
“That's what I want: the people around me to have a better life with me being here,” he added. “But if I can't show them how it can be better beyond this, then I can't stay. I mean, it is a paradox. There’s no doubt.”
While Adam decides his path, there are other examples for the group to look toward.
In October, Thomas Foster was fed up with life.
“I'm tired of being like this, living like this, and the things that you have to go through when you are homeless,” he said. “You know, dealing with the weather, dealing with the people, dealing with anything that comes across, because every day is something different.”
He had been at Room at the Inn for about two years and said he joined the transition program in early autumn. Hanging on the wall near his bed was a picture he drew of a tree — red on one side, black on the other.
“At least I got a place where I can keep all my art supplies and pads and stuff like that more easily than trying to carry them around with me every day,” Foster said.
Now, just more than two months since he joined the program, that wall is bare and Foster is nowhere to be seen. In November, he transitioned to sober living housing, graduating from the program, and - maybe - from the shelter, for good.
