There is an old saying, “Never judge a book by its cover.” Like most overused “sayings” it has all but lost its meaning. I found myself saying it as I got in the car last night on my way home from the weekly writing group I lead at a nearby homeless shelter.

     I began the group back in September when I was asked to assist the residents who had all but lost contact with their families. Unsure of where to start, I created the writing group as a way to get “in” and begin to develop a relationship with the residents in order to accomplish this rather challenging goal of family reunification. I could not predict what would happen.

     About 2 years ago I joined a writing group led by Susan Hagen, a local writer who had written a book called Women at Ground Zero, the stories of the female first responders to the tragedy on September 11. Susan’s method was remarkable, creating a creative space for self exploration through writing. It wasn’t meant to be a “therapy group”, but it was certainly “therapeutic”. At the time I remember thinking, I could imagine using this in my therapy practice.

     It wasn’t until I started at the homeless shelter that I had my chance. Each week after dinner, a group of us get together and write. We’re a motley crew, folks who have lost everything. Men and women, clad in donated clothes who rely on the compassion of others to get by. We range in age from 20 to over 70. We are moms and dads, brothers and sisters, grandpas and grandmas and next door neighbors. We are recovering alcoholics and addicts, professionals and teachers, laborers, cooks and lots of combat veterans. It’s not always the same folks, but they’re always there, waiting, anxious to see what stories are ready to emerge that particular evening.

     We write for a couple of hours; about our lives, our fears, our experiences and our dreams. They are stories of honesty and courage, of battles won and lost. There are tales of childhoods fractured by violence and alcohol, punctuated by moments of clarity when, as one guy wrote last night, “you are able to put all your pain and anger and hate into the black space where it belongs and send it away. And then, when the blackness clears, all you have left is love.”

     The stories shared are always unique, always heartfelt, always honest and always amazing. Each one a gift from those who have so little.