Friday, June 29, 2012

The Gift of Change

The other day I was observing a poverty-related discussion that was happening within a group of my friends. I do this frequently in the hopes that they forget I work where I do, have an honest conversation, and then I can give them my two-cents at the end of the discussion. This particular chat was about panhandling, and how they respond to being asked for money on the street. One friend said that she’s always a ‘sucker’ when she’s asked for change, and will give it to the asker. Another said she will never give to the asker because she’s sure it wouldn’t go towards food or bus fare, and that it would go towards drugs and/or alcohol. I believe this to be the most common view on panhandling. A third friend stepped in with something I hadn’t heard before: “If you give them money and it goes to drugs or alcohol, you’re helping them reach rock bottom and, therefore, recovery, sooner.” I’m sure she was quoting something she’d heard elsewhere, but I'd literally never heard that before and was surprised by it.

Anyway, one question I’m often asked is
 “What do you do (personally) when someone asks you for money on the street?”

Now, I can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but I’ll tell you my own, personal thoughts on the issue.

Generally, I just say sorry and don't usually give out any change. Why? Probably partly because I’m aware of the services available in our city, all within 2km of where I’m often asked, and partly because I don’t know where the money will go - and sometimes I’m not okay with that. I’m not saying that folks who ask for it are lying to you, but there’s a chance of that. Some might just see it as survival.

Sometimes, I am okay with that. And that’s the key. Each individual needs to decide for themselves if they are or are not okay with what happens to their money after it passes from their possession. If you aren’t, you should stick to donating to an agency you trust. If you are okay with not knowing, then give away! On occasion, if my hand is in my pocket, jingling some change around, I’ll pull it out and hand it to someone. I don’t think about where my money could go, or what rock bottom could or could not be reached because of my paltry contribution. Once that money passes out of your hands, you have to truly let it go. You need to make the decision when you give them the money that you’re truly giving them the money. A gift – and, like any true gift, they receive it and are grateful, and don’t owe you anything.

And maybe, just maybe, by giving them the gift of change, you’ll be giving them … the gift of change.

How do you decide whether to give to a panhandler or not?

- Sarah
Follow Sarah on Twitter @ispeakcanadian

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Under the Glass Ceiling


One of the community members said something, which really shook me recently:

How can you live with a disability? It’s like you're living in a room with a glass ceiling. You can see all that you want to achieve, but you know you can never get there. How can you live with a disability? ” 

The same can be also said for many trauma victims; for those who continually dress their wounds in addictive remedies; for those who, from birth, had no one to admire and nurture their potential.

The worst part is perhaps that the glass of the ceiling is transparent. They can see who they could have been. They see their dreams clearly, yet increasingly distant; fleeting wisps of memories never theirs. Cursing their present state, they dive deeper into the walls that confine them and drown in their own shadows.

Housing First has been the model chosen to undo these types of situations. The housing program of the Mustard Seed in Edmonton has recently been approved by Homeward Trust, the first apartment building has been filling rapidly, and other apartments are possibly in the works! I, Jeremiah, a mere summer student intern, have been graciously cannon-balled into the middle of this extravaganza. And I love it! And I despair in it!

I love the stories and laughter we share when we sit together with a meal. I love it when I spill hamburger all over myself when the sarcastic excitement of 50% off all clothes in Value Village hits the room. I admire the generosity present between the tenants. Even the precious cigarette is given away freely to a friend. On the flip side, I despair at the sight of deep scars through skin which give credence to the stories that tumble out at unexpected moments. I despair when their pain squeezes them so tightly that they, with subtle and unintentional words and actions, sometimes hurt each other.

So what of the glass ceiling? Well, they move out - out of those four walls - and enter a new community where the sky is the limit. Through the housing program they come to a home. One of the tenants told me yesterday,

It’s hard to find a home, but this place really feels like a home. It takes a heart to make a home and this place has a lot of heart!”  

A home is a place of belonging where it does not matter what you have done or how short you have fallen from who you could have been. All that matters is right now, and who you are making yourself to be with the support of all those around you. Here the sky does not become the eternal reminder that your hopes have failed, but rather the place where your imagination can find hope again. I am very thankful to be a part of this extravaganza.

Love Lots,
Jeremiah


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Thursday, June 21, 2012

The Common Denominator


Last week I celebrated my one-year anniversary working at The Mustard Seed. I really thought that by this point, I would be a legitimate expert on how to address the issues of poverty and homelessness. Feel free to break here for a good minute of laughter, then meet me back in reality. I promise you’ll be glad you came along for the ride.

When I started here, I joined a fresh-faced team in the newly-established Employment Centre. The learning curve was steep, but so exciting. I embraced the Housing-First model and revelled in the idea that helping people find and sustain meaningful employment was the secret to success that no one else had uncovered. I started to break down all of the old stereotypes I had previously (and secretly) held, replacing them with new theories on the common denominators of homelessness. Though we faced challenges, as a team we pressed on towards building a supported employment program that would work for everyone: a silver bullet straight through the heart of poverty, giving people a real “hand up” and eliminating the need for “hand outs”.

It’s easy to get excited about programs like this one, because on a broad scale, the statistics show that they are working. Over 300 people housed since the launch of our housing program, Aftercare, and over 100 people employed; sustainable life change is happening right there in the numbers.

When I see the success in these figures, my initial reaction is to jump to the next big idea: people who are homeless don’t need food or temporary shelter, they just need to be supported in the “bigger” challenges of life, and the rest will fall into place.

Let’s fast forward to two days before my one-year anniversary. I was in the Denver airport dreaming up this blog post and how I would report on every piece of quantitative data I could find about what had been achieved in the last 365 days. I guess I did a little too much daydreaming, because I didn’t catch the gate change or boarding announcements, and there I was, missing my first flight ever. Thankfully, though, I wasn’t alone.

Ida is a lovely woman of about the same age as my mother who missed her connection from California on her way to see her son and his young family in Red Deer. As we hurried together between customer service counters and departure gates, we bonded over frustrations with United Airlines, but soon learned that we had more in common than we thought.

When we finally sat down for a drink in the lounge, Ida asked what I did for work. I told her about The Mustard Seed and her face began to glow. “I used to get meals from a place like that back home 20 years ago,” she told me. “That’s good work you’re doing. Important work.”

She went on to tell me about her struggles with addictions, living in her car, her family’s “tough love” approach. It wasn’t a sob story, but a story of hope. She explained how this unnamed organization in Southern California saved her life starting with a meal. Taken aback, I clarified: “So really? That’s what you needed? Just some food?” “ And some people who cared. They got me by until I was ready to change.”

I’m sure my face was glowing by this point, too, as I began to reconsider everything I thought I’d learned in the past year. I started to think of the innovative food programs I had been hearing about and how we could implement them here, bringing the focus back to the basics. Maybe we need to make sure everyone in the city is fed before we can get them housed and employed. The wheels were turning quickly: affordable organic markets, pay-what-you-can restaurants. I could see the success rates soaring. And then the wheels stopped.

I looked at Ida, her kind eyes and the deep, intricate pattern of lines surrounding them, her flowing silver hair falling on her tanned, leather shoulders. She is a portrait of a human being, uniquely different from every single person standing in the meal line, every Aftercare participant, every newly-employed client. Her experiences cannot be captured with quantitative statistics, but they are an inspiring story of success that encourages me to keep doing the “important work” much more than figures and innovative programming ever will.

As I embark on my second year at The Mustard Seed, I still believe in Housing-First and the supported employment model. I still have hope that we can find new ways to meet basic needs in a healthy and empowering way. The difference this year will be that I will be giving the statistics faces and remembering that there is no one-size-fits-all solution to helping a person rebuild their lives. I'm far from being an expert, but I will leave room for one common denominator: that person will always know that someone cares. 

- Lydia
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Monday, June 18, 2012

I Don't Bounce, But I'm Part of the Club

For many Mustard Seed Frontline Staff it can be a drag being assigned to screen people as they enter our facilities. The Mustard Seed has a Zero Tolerance policy pertaining to drugs and alcohol. We have staff that ensure that Community Members cannot get in our buildings when they are intoxicated. Our goal with this policy is to maintain a safe environment where our Community can gather without the hazards and temptations of drugs and alcohol.

‘Working the door’ can often be the most stressful job for Frontline Staff. We can often deal with belligerent, intoxicated Community Members who may speak or act in hostile and disrespectful ways. I will say, though, that for every awful interaction we might have at the door, we typically will have dozens of pleasant ones.

I’ll get to my point. Working the door can often feel like working against the efforts we make otherwise to empower, sustain and encourage our community. It definitely feels dreadful to say no or turn someone away. I want to take a moment to reflect on why working the door can be just as lovely and kind as serving in a meal line, or offering someone a change of clothes.

Greeter vs. Bouncer

When I work the door, I choose to be like a Walmart Greeter that loves his job. Have you ever been greeted at Walmart? They actually pay someone to stand near the door and say hello. Now, it definitely feels awkward and contrived when you can tell that the Greeter doesn’t really want to be there. But, when I’m sincerely welcomed by someone with a smile on their face it actually makes me want to endure wretchedly long line ups and crowded aisles. That friendly hello makes me feel like I belong there. Having dinner at the Seed can be just like shopping at Walmart. It’s often overcrowded, bustling and noisy. But, to know that you are wanted and belong can make dinner with strangers feel more like a meal with family.

I’m a pretty big guy. It’s pretty easy for Community Members to mistake me for a bouncer when they approach our doors. That’s why I intentionally choose to be relaxed in my physical stance. Staff at the Seed have training in Non-Violent Crisis Intervention, which can be helpful in high-emotion and physical, conflict situations. But, for the most part we can purposefully take a laid back, yet assertive approach to interacting with the community. Having a willingness to make every effort to talk things out can be one of the best ways to honour and dignify our Community Members. Many of our Community Members have had hurtful experiences with authority figures in the past and can often see us in a similar light if we don’t intentionally choose to be different. I love welcoming people in with a cheerful attitude. I also love de-escalating an intense situation by bringing a calm, kind and thoughtful presence to it. There is a great difference between a bouncer who might physically remove an instigator from a conflict, and Mustard Seed staff who will facilitate reconciliation.

Honorary Club Member

I’ve always been somewhat fascinated by what I refer to as the Smoker’s Social Club. Those that smoke often find themselves outside their place of work, local restaurant or pub sharing cigarettes with friends and strangers alike. Smokers will often entertain casual conversation with strangers they’ve just met, because they needed to borrow a lighter. I’m not a smoker, but standing at the doors of the Mustard Seed I’ve been able to regularly be a part of these conversations that are happening nearby. It seems both strange and wonderful to me that our Community Members are fully aware that my job at the door is to screen them and keep the Seed safe, but they will allow me to be an honorary member of their smoker’s social club. I would like to think that my ability to do my job well is partly due to the respect gained through being social with Community Members at the door. I think that the hard times when I need to turn someone away can be made easier for both me and the community by social rapport being established within the context of smoker’s subculture.

I don’t drink and never have. It’s interesting how this can have an effect on Community Members that know me. Many who have had issues with alcoholism have a great respect for me because of this. I think it can be hopeful for them to know someone who doesn’t ever feel the need to turn to booze to have a good time, or to numb one’s pain. Unfortunately, there can often be a stigma about the homeless being drunkards. It is true that alcoholism is a very real issue in the inner city, but it very rarely prevails completely over anyone. There are a great number of Community Members that I know that I’ve seen drunk occasionally, but sober most of the time. Everyone has their bad days no matter who they are, or what their vice is.

I believe that one of the greatest ways that the Seed can honour Community Members at the door is to turn them away in such a way that they will come back. I aim to never burn bridges with our community. To be able to communicate with our Community Members in a manner that is kind and dignifying allows us to hang on to the rapport we’ve already established even when we can’t let them in for one day. I treasure the moments I’ve had with intoxicated Community Members who I’ve had to turn away, but with whom we shared a laugh anyway and gladly looked forward to seeing each other the next day when they would come back sober.

The Mustard Seed community is enlivening, inspiring and beautiful. We laugh hard together. We cry hard together. We share meals. We chat over coffee. I feel totally privileged to be the one to hold the door open and let people in from the rain and snow. I love being the one to smile and tell someone that it’s good to see them. I am honoured to work the door for the Mustard Seed.

Friday, June 15, 2012

Stephanie's Story

Hi, I'm Tim and I'm one of the relief staff at The Mustard Seed Shelter. I have always been curious about how the Drug Courts work as I am a recovering alcoholic and drug addict, but I had no idea how to go about looking into it. Last week I had the opportunity to head down to the Calgary Drug Courts with an acquaintance who happens to be a counselor there.

I wish I could have listened in to the conversations that happen inside. First the lawyers and judge arrive and take their places.  We all rose when the judge arrived. There were two prosecutors and one defense lawyer.

I've been in courtrooms before. Back then I hated having to stand up for the judge. This time, oddly, I was excited by the prospect of standing and showing her the respect that she deserved. I was grateful that I could do it with a clear conscience.

The first young woman, we'll call her Stephanie, was called up to share her story. Her mother was very sick and had been for a while. The judge interrupted to say she remembered and that she commiserated with this girl. Stephanie went on to say that she had relapsed over the past week and that she felt "very raw". She began to cry, and one of the prosecutors passed her some Kleenex. When she was done, the first prosecutor stood up and spoke about how commendable it was that, as upset and troubled as she was, she still chose to show up for her regular Drug Court appointment. The prosecutor then went on to list a number of good things about Stephanie, and how far she'd come. Then the second prosecutor followed suit. I was very surprised at the prosecutors' words, and my heart swelled - I had assumed they were going to punish her somehow. It had never occurred to me that there was any other option. Part of me was initially confused by the prosecutors. They sounded an awful lot like defense lawyers to me. What kind of prosecutors say lots of nice things about the people they are prosecuting?

When the lawyers were done, it was the judge's turn, who had surprising words as well. She started out by asking some questions related to what Stephanie planned on doing about the struggles she's been having, and what the court could do to support her.They came up with a plan that involved her getting some one-on-one time with one of the counselors at the court, and it seemed like she left the podium with a bit more spring in her step and  more hope in her eyes. There was no mention of punishment or of going back to jail during any of this. The only message that came through loud and clear was this:

"Everybody, including the prosecutors, judge, bailiffs, and witnesses in the court, is here to love and support you until you can stand on your own two feet again."

 For me, personally, that day was inspiring. I saw hope, courage, and love in a place where I never thought there could be any. It reminded me of the first AA meeting I went to when I realized, truly, that I never had to drink or use drugs again. I was free, and the recovering people in that courtroom could be too. I was also reminded that grace is the most loving gift we can give to each other. Condemnation does not heal or change us -- but grace, love, and hope will.

- Tim

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

The Meal Line



A few weeks ago, I thought I would stand in the meal line at The Mustard Seed in Edmonton to see what the experience was like.  The thoughts that went through my mind were everything from “Am I really that hungry” to “When will this line hurry up” to “I wonder what they have for dinner.”  And, when I came to the serving table, I realized why people were so grateful for every piece of food they received.  You get to that point and you are just really happy to receive food after waiting for so long.  I mean, I really was grateful for my food.  I wondered what it would be like to wait in a meal line during winter.  Just imagine, standing in freezing temperatures waiting for a meal.  On top of that, imagine having issues like mental illness, addictions and not having a home.  It must be hard, really hard.

This summer, we have between 20-30 unsponsored meals to fill.  Often we have fewer meal volunteers in the summer because people go on vacation.  I’ve had the opportunity to help serve a meal in the past, and trust me, it’s an eye-opening experience. 

You realize that people who live on the margins of society are just like you and me.  And, when and if you decide to talk to them, you’ll see that often they experienced really harsh circumstances that affected their lives.  Their stories may transform your outlook about the homeless and those living in poverty.  They may even leave you wondering if you would be in the same position if you were in their shoes.  If you’re looking for an interesting and humbling experience, look no further than The Mustard Seed.  Get together a group of ten people and give us a call.  You’ll be glad you did.

Friday, June 08, 2012

Lego

It may not surpise you to know that I was really (I mean really really) great with Lego Bricks.  I was the kinda kid that could build a Gaudi inspired cathedral in an afternoon, replicate Windsor Castle on our dining room table and elicit "oohs" and "aahs" from my folks with my Eiffel tower or my Versaiiles Hall of Mirrors.  All made from the ubiquitous plastic bricks.  I was one of those creative kids.



A lot of kids had their creativity squashed out of them at an early age because of some rule about lines and coloring, or making too much noise.  Other energetic actors and imaginative players were shut down byMrs Baxter in the church foyer who took it upon herself to remind you that "running was not allowed in God's House!".  I remember showing my parents my acceptance letter for the Emily Carr College of Fine Art in Vancouver and my dad asking me what I would do for a real job once I graduated...he wasn't a bad guy, he just didn't want an actor (my brother) and an artist in the same batch of kids!

Here is what I know...and in a second I'll tell you what I think.  What I know is that the same kid who could build a Roman Colusseum in his bedroom is grappling with major societal challenges like ending homelessness and eliminating poverty. What I know is that there are millions of creative, thoughtful and imaginative people who for one-reason-or-another gave up on their creative sides and adopted a stance approaching normal (whatever that is).  What I know is that people who really care about the big issues of life are frustrated by business as usual and are ready for a creative revolution.


I don't think that solutions for our world wide challenges will come by staying still, folding hands, keeping quiet. I think that we need to find ways to engage the creative thinking of our communities and give them the tools to express the ideas that emerge.  Those tools may be crayons, cardboard and glue, or they may be blogs, zines and graffitti.  Whatever they are I am convinced that we must unleash creativity in the realm of tough questions and tougher times.  I'll go one step further...I think we should run through the silent foyers of our churches (look out Mrs. Baxter) shouting "come out and play with us, the world needs to know you care!". Sometimes I think I should haul out those three rubbermaids of lego bricks, sit down and begin to create again...want to join me?

We all dare to dream...

As children we are taught to dream. We are taught to aim high, that the sky is the limit, that we can be and do anything we set our minds to. Some of the things that were dreams of mine over the last 24 years are as follows...

gain a career as a fire fighter
become an international rockstar
take ballet classes
have a father figure
see my parents reconciled
make good friends
travel the world
escape those who brought abuse into my life as a child
teach chemistry as a lab technician
graduate high school
lead a missions team
drop out of college
finish college
obtain a 3.5 GPA
get married
change the world

I have seen some of these dreams realized, but obviously, some of these things were and continue to be completely out of my control. For example, there is nothing that I could have done to see my parents relationship healed, nor could I have chosen a father figure to replace the void in my life due to the end of my parents' marriage. No amount of decision or choice or maturity or goal setting could allow me to see these things become reality. These aren't dreams that I could attain by my own volition and will. 

Similarly, homelessness and poverty are not the result of choices made. There are circumstances to which some are born into that cannot be escaped as easily as it may seem. We do not scorn those born into majority world (or third world) countries for not having been born into more affluent families. We do not judge children who have been abandoned by careless parents for not having been more responsible. We do not assume that those whose lives have been paralyzed by disease have asked for the hand that was dealt to them. Yet we marginalize others for their homelessness that we, as a society, have chosen on their behalf in so many ways.

You'll notice that mental health issues, sexual exploitation, addictions, and poor food security never made my list of goals throughout my life. As a child I never dreamt of becoming homeless. This may come as a surprise but the same is true of my friends within The Mustard Seed community.

Nobody chooses homelessness or poverty. Nobody dreams of these things.
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Follow me on Twitter @katcardinal

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Why People are Homeless


Working at The Mustard Seed, I actually find I don't have that many conversations outside of work about homelessness. The only conversations I seem to have are talks with friends about the conversation they just had. The conversations I'm referring to,  between my family and their friends and strangers alike, are with people who clearly do not understand the issues, and I laugh it off a bit when they tell me the stories. I trust that people who think this way assume that, because I work at The Mustard Seed, I’m heavily armed with a million things to say to rebuke their homelessness claims. And perhaps they just don’t want to get into it that deeply.

So because I interact mainly with those who are sensitive to the issue of poverty and homelessness, or who pretend to be for my benefit, I have a skewed perception of how sensitive and educated on the issue the general population is. I sat down to think about those who don’t like the homeless, and came to a stark realization: this is my fault. My job is and/or has been to educate the public on the issues, connect with the community, break down stereotypes and communicate clearly about the issue of homelessness in our city. So if there are those who don’t know the real truth about homelessness, it’s not their fault. It’s mine.

So I’ll take this opportunity to redeem myself, and tell you, our reader, why people end up at the doors of The Mustard Seed. And you can bookmark this page. So when you come across the people who don’t know or like anything about the homeless, you can come back here and help to educate them.

  • Low minimum wage
  • Generational Poverty  - Second and third generation homeless and poor – born on the streets and unable to get off of them
  • Lack of affordable housing
  • Low income housing is being eroded
  • Lack of family support and/or life skills  - imagine never having a family that teaches you how to function in society
  • Many come from other provinces to find work - when they are not immediately successful, they lack the resources to live.
  • Unexpected job loss
  • Mental Disability  - includes mental illness, personality disorders, authority issues, coping skills, grieving, fetal alcohol syndrome etc. 
  • Physical Disability - many people have chronic or complex conditions requiring long-term support
  • Family Break-Down/Domestic Abuse - Alberta has the highest rate for domestic abuse in the country) (source)
  • Lack of Education and/or Job Skills - high school drop-outs and people with learning disabilities
  • Language Barriers - many new immigrants and refugees come through our programs.
  • Addictions - substance abuse, prescription drugs, alcohol, gambling or sexual addictions.
  • Frozen and Eliminated Government Programs
  • Criminal Records - a criminal record makes it difficult to find work again
 And there you go. If everyone in Alberta reads this blog post, my job is done and I can retire, having put "Educated 100% of Alberta about homelessness" on my resume. But, more realistically, I hope this has opened an eye or two to the true issues most of the homeless and working poor in our province face.

Did I miss any? Leave me a comment below!

Sarah B

Follow Sarah on Twitter @ispeakcanadian 

Friday, June 01, 2012

Do You Love Me?

At a few team meetings per month, the Employment team reads from In the Name of Jesus by Henri Nouwen. Recently, we read this excerpt:
“Before Jesus commissioned Peter to be a shepherd he asked him, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these others do?” He asked him again, “Do you love me?” And a third time he asked “Do you love me?” We have to hear that question as being central to all of our Christian ministry because it is the question that can allow us to be at the same time irrelevant and truly self-confident”.
We discussed that, as humans, we desire relationship.  Our Intake Coordinator said that she used to ask prospective Employment Program clients, “What supports do you have in your life?” Often the answer was “none”. Other times the guests noted a Mustard Seed staff member or another caseworker.

Recently, a guest told me that what he cannot take is “being looked down on”. This speaks of a need for acceptance. In our guests, this need is sometimes met with rejection. In a world so often inhospitable, we can extend hospitality by listening and withholding judgement.  What an honor it is to be a safe place for our guests.

In difficult times, we look for support from people whom we love and who love us. Imagine having a crisis in life and no one to support you.  When I imagine it, I remember that I am no different from any of our guests; I have only had different benefits, different blessings.

As humans, we all internally ask the question “do you love me?” When we reach out for help and receive support, the question is answered. We are made in the image of God, who asks this same question; therefore, we are made to answer His question with love— love for Him and love for one another. In employment coaching sessions with guests,  the real issues are not resumes, cover letters, job searches, or applications. I address these things because they are important and are the practical essence of my job. However, these things are not the most fundamental need. The real need is to share the love of God, who loved us first and calls each of us to Himself.