Homeless? A miracle lies in the message

I think at one time or another, we have all wondered about the families of the long-term homeless and why they are not around to help their loved ones who so obviously need it.

I am referring to people we see pushing carts compartmentalized with plastic bags, sprawled on a bench at night sleeping or huddled in a doorway or on the ground with a layer of cardboard underneath and above them. We know many of them suffer with mental health issues and substance addiction.

In many cases, they have not seen family members in years or even decades. And I wonder, how many of these long-term homeless people think no one cares about them or think family members, loved ones and friends have simply erased them from their lives?

Ashley Rodriguez wants them to know it is not as many as they think — and that many family members believe they, too, have been erased and are eager to reconnect.

And Rodriguez wants them to know a miracle lies in the message.

The Bridgeport resident is attempting to reconnect long-term homeless people with family members or others they’ve been estranged from for years by bringing a chapter of Miracle Messages to the state.

Miracle Messages is a nonprofit message delivery service. It is the brainchild of Kevin F. Adler, who founded the organization in 2013 as way to honor his uncle, who had wrestled with schizophrenia before he died and lived on-and-off the streets for 30 years.

The service is based on the principal that there are many people on the streets with mental illness, drug addiction or severe disabilities — and many of them have families and people who miss them, love them and want to know they’re OK.

“No one is doing it (this type of service) here,” Rodriguez said. “I hope by the summer to have (more) people on the team with me.”

Here is how it works: A homeless person records a short video, audio or text message to a loved one. Volunteers or a caseworker will normally help with this process. Then, a network of more than 1,200 digital detectives nationwide attempt to deliver it.

And nearly six years after the service was founded, Adler’s efforts are paying off.

There have been 201 reunions, and 82 percent of messages delivered to family members or loved ones were positively received. It took an average of one month for the service to reconnect them, and the average homeless person had been estranged from loved ones without contact for 20 years.

“I started Miracle Messages to make an immediate and tangible impact in the lives of our neighbors living on and off the streets, to build empathy through person-to-person interaction and storytelling, and to use technology for social good,” Adler says on the Miracle Messages website.

According to its website, Miracle Messages can be recorded via its 1-800MISS-YOU hotline; its online referral forms (for families, volunteers and caseworkers), and its onepage, printable intake form from its website. And a mobile app is on the way.

Rodriguez is making the rounds of shelters and nonprofits to talk with the homeless and become familiar with their needs as she assembles a team of volunteers.

“I’m helping while I am building,” she said.

But as good as the program sounds and despite how uplifting it may be, Rodriguez may have a tougher time convincing the homeless population to reconnect than she may think.

I headed up to Danbury on Wednesday to visit the Good Samaritan Center, where the homeless gather for the daily community meal.

I wanted to spread the word about Miracle Messages and have someone reconnect with a family to bring something special to the holiday weekend. But I was surprised the homeless I met wanted nothing to do with reconnecting with family members. And despite a growing homeless population, a willing participant could not be found in Greenwich or Stamford, either.

Experts say the longterm homeless tend to isolate themselves, are without a social support system and feel worthless and ashamed. So, they wander like nomads.

We don’t pay too much attention to them; they’re society’s eyesores and probably very few of them — or for that matter, any of them — are shown love or respect by their fellow man. Instead, they’re treated like blight that must be removed, shifted or discarded.

But every person has a story to tell and every story has a beginning and an end.

And sometimes, that story can end with a hello.

Homeless? A miracle lies in the message.

James Walker / Hearst Connecticut Media A mentally ill man sleeps on the ground near a bus stop in downtown Bridgeport. An American flag is draped across his shopping cart.