by Kathy Izard
5.I wrote that I was raised not to be good, but to Do Good. Along with the lesson from my grandmother to Love Well, these messages became driving forces in my life and influenced how Charlie and I raised our daughters. What were you raised to believe, and how have those beliefs influenced your life (and if you have children, your parenting)? What beliefs would you like to keep? Which would you like to change?
6.In The Hundred Story Home, I had rejected religion but discovered I actually had a defining belief in faith. Was there a time in your life when you felt religion, faith, or spirituality was not for you? Has that changed? If so, what experiences led you to change?
7.The idea of renewal and rebirth also recurs in the story, from the junkyard that became a home, to each homeless person housed, to my mother’s affinity with the symbol of the Phoenix. Have you ever been given a second chance? Was there a time in your life when you felt you reinvented yourself to leave something old behind?
8.The homeless tend to be an invisible part of society. Coleman asked the high school audience if they could see him because for years on the streets, he believed nobody could. Also, I couldn’t see the problem with giving people just soup and programs until Denver made me see it differently. Have you had experience with something invisible suddenly made visible to you? What changed your vision?
9.I often felt guilty for having lived a relatively privileged life. How do you think our social class affects how we see the world? Have you felt uncomfortable with your class or perceived status of having too much or too little?
10.Throughout my journey I experienced “God-instances”: circumstances so unexpected that it seemed unlikely they were coincidental and not connected to something divine. Do you agree? Have you ever had a God-instance in your life? How did you explain it?
11.I didn’t want or expect homelessness to be my purpose because it seemed to be such a huge, overwhelming problem. I needed to connect with a community that was already doing something about it. Are you passionate about a cause or an issue affecting your community? How have you acted on that interest? If you haven’t, what’s holding you back? Is there a nonprofit you could help or a community you could join that is working for a goal that interests you?
FREQUENTLY ASKED BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS
The Hundred Story Home first came out in a self-published paperback. As friends read it, they suggested it to their book clubs, and I started going on guest appearances. As friends passed it to friends, I went to book clubs all over Charlotte, the surrounding area, and even to friends out of town. The discussions would vary depending on the group, but many questions would be similar. Some of the top recurring questions are answered here.
How long did it take to write the book, and did you take writing classes?
Writing this book began with a New Year’s Eve resolution to myself in 2010. I vowed that in 2011, I would write something longer than an e-mail. Throughout that year I worked on a first draft, trying to capture all the miracles of Moore Place—the many God-instances that I just couldn’t believe. It really started out as more of a timeline of stories than a book. After working on it a year, I finally let Charlie read the first draft. He told me truthfully, “Honey, it’s not a page-turner.” Ouch. He was right.
I didn’t want a good story to be lost in a bad book, so I decided to take some courses at Queen’s University—where my mother went to college. Between 2012 and 2015, I took three courses. The first one was on finding your voice and storytelling; the second was a crash course in writing a manuscript in a month, just to practice getting words on paper; the third was editing an entire book over a semester. That third class was what changed this book completely. In that course twelve aspiring authors were paired with four editors in New York. Over the semester we would get the chance to really dig into our manuscripts and make them shine. My editor in that course, Emily Bell, told me, “No one is going to care about this story unless they care about you. You have to write about you.” When I told her there was no way I was writing about me or my childhood since my whole family never talked about it and pretended it never happened, she wouldn’t give in. Instead, she proposed this: “For the sake of argument, let’s pretend no one is ever going to read this book. What would you write if no one was ever going to read it?”
That was how this book was born.
Where did you get the quotes at the beginning of the chapters?
I have always loved reading and will underline quotes and save passages from books. I still love holding a book and writing in the margins, so I don’t read eBooks. When I started writing in 2011, I created a document on my computer and would type in some of my favorites quotes from books for inspiration. I began a habit of cutting and pasting a quote at the beginning of a chapter to be my guiding theme as I wrote that section. Sometimes, as the chapter would evolve, the quote no longer fit, so I would find a new one that fit the revisions.
As I got closer to finishing and publishing, I became more insecure about putting my writing into the world, worried that I didn’t have anything to say. I decided I would leave the quotes in as a gift to the reader. If readers didn’t like my writing, at least they would get over twenty good quotes for the price of the book!
You write very openly about yourself in this book. How hard was it to put so much of your childhood in this story?
This was one of the most difficult parts of writing this book. I have said it took two editors and two therapists to finish The Hundred Story Home—that is the truth! When I started writing this, I was forty-eight and had never really processed my childhood experiences. It had been much easier to just put all those feelings in a box and pretend they didn’t happen. But in writing and trying to understand what had happened with Denver, I had to open all those boxes. I had to figure out who was I, that when a formerly homeless man whom I had never met tells me that I should build beds, I listen? I needed to go back and figure out why I felt what he said so deeply. I knew all that had to do with how I was raised and who my parents were. To tell this story, I was going to have to explore my story, and to do that, I was going to have to write about my mom.
For four years I wrote and never let anyone read it and never intended to publish it. But I started liking what I was writing, and by that time I was working every day on HopeWay. As I wrote briefly toward the end of the book, building Moore Place led to working on the capital campaign for HopeWay, a nonprofit residential mental health treatment center in Charlotte. I had said I would never raise money for anything again after Moore Place, but suddenly I had agreed to chair raising the money for something else that was even closer to my heart.
At night and on weekends I worked on this book, but in the day I was having conversations about mental illness all the time. Several times a week I would meet with families and foundations who had a connection to mental health, explaining what we were trying to build. The conversations quickly turned to their own personal stories, usually with much different endings than my mother’s story—addiction, suicide, tremendous pain and suffering. I started to see not only was this a problem in one in five families but also how very fortunate we were that my mother had turned to the Bible, not the bottle, to handle her struggles. Her faith and strength were amazing. We were also so lucky to have strong family support throughout it all.
By the time the book was finished, the mental health portion of my story was no longer the dark secret it had been. It felt much healthier to talk about it and say what happened than hide it anymore.
What should I do when I see someone asking for money on the street? How do I know whether someone is really homeless or a con artist?
As someone who has worked in homeless services, I should tell you to ask them if they know of resources in your community and direct them to appropriate agencies. As an individual who knows how difficult that can be, I will tell you what Dale Mullennix taught me, “Err on the side of compassion.” I don’t give to every person I see asking for money or food. But there are certain times when
someone just tugs at my heart in a way I can’t explain, and in those cases, I give what I feel is right. I have learned that everyone has a story, so I try not to judge why someone might be holding up a sign. If I don’t have any dollars, I try to at least look someone in the eye and let them know they are seen. I know from Eugene Coleman what a difference that can make, just to make someone feel human. A kind word or a smile might give someone the hope he or she needs to make it one more day.
What do you hope readers take from your book?
I have two hopes for this book. First, I hope The Hundred Story Home is a bridge book into faith for some people. I know the world can be very divided in terms of people’s views of religion and God. From people who believe in nothing to those who are certain of their beliefs. If you are questioning your faith, it can be difficult to find where you belong. I hope this book encourages people who have given up on God, for whatever reason, to reexamine their beliefs. The second hope is that in reading my story, readers will have faith and courage to answer their own call—whatever that might be. I was so unprepared and unqualified to take on building a building. But once I started trusting that there was something bigger than me going on, it was much easier to find the people who were also drawn to this cause. I definitely now believe that those whispers we want to ignore are our best guides for living life. I hope my book amplifies those whispers that people are already hearing.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
At least a hundred stories make up Moore Place. Some are told in these pages, but countless others, and the people who are a part of them, are not. If yours is a story I didn’t tell, please know you are part of the fabric of Moore Place, and I am so grateful for your help and presence along this journey. I am particularly indebted to the following people:
Charlie, the First Believer. My Goose.
Lauren, Kailey, Emma, and Maddie, thank you for all your love, patience, and support from the first True Blessings to the doorknob. No words.
Louise, my oracle, for being there from the beginning through every otherworldly happening.
Dad, for making me believe I could do anything.
Mom, for your daily courage and for starting the journey I never saw coming.
Bob and Jean, for being the first donors to the dream and loving me as your own.
Allyson, for being my first best friend and helping me find the words written inside.
Karen Green Pirinelli, for being the first Green Girl to discover Same Kind of Different As Me.
Ann and Rolfe Neill, for bringing me to Charlotte, where this story began.
Liz Clasen-Kelly, for being the passionate voice that always knew what this city needed to do.
Dale Mullennix, for giving this Graphics Girl a chance and for doing the really hard work every day for over two decades.
John and Pat Moore, for your daring belief that every human being deserves a home.
Sarah Belk, Angela Breeden, Kim Belk, Edwina Willis Fleming, Paige Waugh, Karen Pritchett, and Paige James, for the First True Blessings that started it all.
Libba Rule, Christe Eades, Barb Singer, Mary Katherine Black, Addison Ayer, and all those who have kept True Blessings running strong since 2007.
Caroline Chambre Hammock, for leaving New York and making Moore Place your home.
Joann Markley, for believing in this with me and keeping the first thirteen safe.
The original Homeless to Homes tenants, for having the courage to be first and showing what was possible.
Eugene Coleman, for sharing your story and making me believe in angels.
Jennie Buckner, for having the courage to lead the change on our mission.
Rich Hoard, Megan Coffey, Liz Peralta, Lauren Cranford, Trish Fries, and Beth Galen, for your dedication to this work, which made Moore Place possible.
Bill Holt, Hugh McColl III, Downie Saussy, Matt Wall, and Jerry Licari (the Five Guys), for doing everything I couldn’t and more.
Gary Chesson, Mike Clement, and Greg Gach, for your leadership in changing hearts and minds.
David Furman and Steve Barton, for taking a sketch on a napkin and translating it into an amazing home.
Laura Schulte, for saying the improbable, impossible, biggest yes, and Jay Everette, for everything else.
Mike Rizer, for being the miracle maker behind the scenes.
Anthony Foxx, for championing what was right even when people thought it was wrong.
Paul Walker, Lori Thomas, and Susan Furtney, for creating the plan that would make the vision of Moore Place possible.
Louise Parsons, Sally Saussy, Anne Fehring, Angela Breeden, Tricia Harrison, and Barb Singer, for making each room a home.
Jan Shealy, for keeping track of every dollar and every name, and Tommy Shealy, for his leadership in the campaign.
Zelleka Beirman, for putting heart and soul into city policy.
Mary Reca Todd, for her career of compassion with the state of North Carolina.
Tammie Lesesne, for listening and showing me how to live in the gray.
Heidi Rotberg, for teaching me there are no magic wands or crystal balls, and forgiveness is a good thing.
Chip Edens, for encouraging me to take a leap of faith.
Lisa Saunders, for helping me believe.
Lynn Pearce Tate, for keeping me in her prayers and helping me believe in my own.
The Schpilkies, for fifteen years of friendship and helping me imagine the unimaginable.
Mary Beth Hollet, for encouraging me to write this book, and especially for pushing me to She Speaks.
Liza Branch, Julie Marr, Renee McColl, and Kathleen Richardson, for two decades of keeping it real and always reminding Sister Mary Margaret to do the same, and for supporting every dream.
Sandra Conway, for the walks and talks that inspired No Casseroles for Crazy.
Edwina Willis Fleming, for the words I carry in my wallet, and for not letting me forget.
Jane Harrell, for making me comfortable with this whole God thing and so much more.
Julie Marr, for being my spiritual director, encouraging me to Tell About It, and writing a genius title.
Betsy and Bill Blue, for inviting me on their journey and showing me how grace continues to lead.
Lisa Cashion, for showing me the new dream and where this road goes next.
Emily Bell, for making me dig even deeper than I ever wanted to go.
Peg Robarchek, for encouraging me that this may be good enough, and for reading my first bad drafts.
My beta readers: Kristin Hills Bradberry, Carrie Banwell, Beth Gast, Susan Izard, Gigi Priebe, and Nancy Engen (with her canasta club: Susie Davis, Erin Lamb, and Susan Wasilauskas), for giving me the confidence to take this manuscript out of a drawer.
My digital marketing team: Lauren and Kailey Izard, Corrie Smith, Morgan Bailey, Susan Walker, and Emily Brinkley, for helping launch this story into the world.
Jon Valk, Karen Minster, Fiona Hallowell, and Diane Aronson, for making the first version of this book beautiful.
Rachel Estes and Melissa Leahey, for being the first out-of-town believers.
Meg Robertson, who flew into my life through a Tai Chi studio window and has given me otherworldly courage ever since.
Sally McMillan, for being the final God-instance in this story, and for believing it could be bigger.
Daisy Hutton, for being the last, best editor and knowing exactly what this book needed.
Erin Healy, Paula Major, and the Thomas Nelson team for polishing this story and helping me take it so much further than I could on my own.
The staff and volunteers at Urban Ministry Center and Moore Place, for showing up 365 days a year to love thy Neighbor.
The 259 donors to Moore Place, for bringing us home.
NOTES
CHAPTER 1: SIX CANDLES, ONE WISH
1.Richard Rohr, Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life (Hoboken, NJ: Jossey-Bass, 2011), 84.
CHAPTER 2: DO GOOD. LOVE WELL.
1.
Pico Iyer, Falling Off the Map: Some Lonely Places of the World (New York: Knopf Doubleday, 2011), 9.
CHAPTER 3: NO CASSEROLES FOR CRAZY
1.Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith (New York: HarperOne, 2004), 139.
CHAPTER 4: HEADED FOR HOME
1.Charles de Lint, The Blue Girl (Toronto: Penguin, 2006), 127.
CHAPTER 5: A HEART WITH A HOLE
1.Elizabeth Stone in I’ll Fly Away: Further Testimonies from the Women of York Prison, ed. Wally Lamb (New York: Harper, 2007), 55.
CHAPTER 6: SOUP AND SALVATION
1.Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2000), 63.
CHAPTER 7: FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION
1.Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2013), 54.
CHAPTER 8: WORKING MY WAY HOME
1.Wayne Muller, A Life of Being, Having and Doing Enough (New York: Harmony, 2011), 228.
CHAPTER 9: GOING FOR A RIDE
1.W. Somerset Maugham, in Suzanne Horton, Louise Beattie, and Branwen Bingle, Lessons in Teaching Reading Comprehension in Primary Schools (Los Angeles: Learning Matters, 2015), 10.
CHAPTER 10: HOME TOUR
1.Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith (New York: Anchor Books, 2006), 143.
CHAPTER 11: MILLION-DOLLAR LARRY
1.C. S. Lewis, “Miracles,” sermon, St. Jude on the Hill Church, London, November 26, 1942, in God in the Dock (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 2014), 13.