The Chronicles of Westwood Manor: Interview Two

When I interviewed a tenant at Westwood Manor, The Mustard Seed Edmonton’s first apartment building under the HousingFirst philosophy, he almost brought a tear to my eye! Now this guy is what you would call a “particular individual”: you know, those people who like things done in a certain way, with a certain style. He is one of those guys who keeps the common room clean and makes sure things things stay afloat around the house. 
Now for those of you who don’t know, The Mustard Seed's housing program is unique in that it tries to fill the gaps and reach the “hard-to-house” individuals who don’t make it in regular HousingFirst programs. In light of this, the tenant stated,

“I take pride in being part of an experiment: guinea pigs! It is a first-time experience for The Mustard Seed and a new learning experience for everyone. All eyes are on this experiment because we are doing this differently compared to other agencies. It is exciting in a way, to be a part of this new thing, to be able to give input on how we can improve. You really become a part of the process and experience. We give input and things change for our benefit.”

To be honest, I was taken aback at the sheer confidence in his words as he said this. He really felt empowered as a decision-maker in the Housing Program. This was his program, his experiment. Part of this experiment was conflict resolution. Westwood Manor has committed to a restorative justice framework for conflict resolution. He had this to say about resolving problems in the house,

“I realize that some people have different standards of what they might consider acceptable behaviour. We are gonna have different opinions, and that’s normal. I’m glad there is a resolution process to resolve differences quickly. Other than minor disagreements there has not been any incidents here. I like to keep the common room clean. Sometimes the other tenants have to do better to clean up after themselves, like spaghetti over the stove: maybe they think it is normal. Differences like that. If that’s the extent of differences that’s pretty good [he chuckles].”

The Housing Program and Westwood Manor at the Edmonton Mustard Seed have been growing like crazy. We are in the process of purchasing 2 more apartments and it is expected that up to 3 tenants will be moved into Westwood Manor each month until the 20 unit apartment is filled. I asked the tenant how he felt about all the changes:

“Things are going to change – change is inevitable. Some people are afraid of change, are uncomfortable, but you can’t live like that. There haven’t been any negative changes yet. And our input is welcome which is great. Input makes difference.
Here there is a mechanism where you bring concerns and they can be discussed. Maybe they won’t agree but at least you have an opportunity to have your voice heard. I am very encouraged to have a voice here.”

Boy oh boy, somebody give me a tissue!

Love Lots,

Jeremiah

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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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Courage to Change

The fridge died.  The warm contents of the freezer were not the result of a son having left the door ajar as my husband first thought.  No, the appliance had failed and did not warrant repair. The stove was the same vintage as the fridge so we decided on a pre-emptive strike stove wise and replaced them both.  Problem - the new stove doesn’t have an outlet to plug the coffee pot into like our old one, so coffee needs to happen on a different part of the counter.  The next logical place for it has meant I had to move the basket that contains the deluge of paper that I will deal with later.  Now I don’t have a place for the basket, or the deluge of paper that I don’t want to deal with.  The change grates me.  Petty, I know. 

My name is Debbie, and I’ve been working as a reintegration chaplain at The Mustard Seed Edmonton for about a year and a half I work with women before and mostly after their release from federal prison. Most days I can’t believe someone is paying me to go to interesting places and meet amazing people.  The stories of their lives and how they came to be involved in the correctional system as employees or inmates or volunteers are compelling.  Some stories are horrific, some noble, some sad, some funny, some inspirational and rarely are they only one of those things.  They all touch me in some way.

It is the stories that are being written, the stories of moving forward that leave me marvelling at my good fortune to be a witness and, in the mercy of God, perhaps a character as they unfold.  My vocabulary fails me when I try to explain the stories of women who have the courage to change everything and start again.  It shouts of how lousy their life has been if everything known and familiar now must be rejected to create a healthy life. A new locale, a new occupation, new friends, and new ways of dealing with life are all part of the wholesale change.  The stakes are so high, and each element of change is daunting on its own - let alone stacked up with the others like a pile of fragile china.  I can not imagine what it would be like to have your life deconstructed and face rebuilding with tools that are only recently acquired.  Perhaps it is my own irritation with change that makes what they are doing so extraordinary to me, but I’d prefer to think it is witnessing this brave thing called courage that leaves me feeling like I’ve been at Niagara Falls.

Fear and doubt are not absent in the presence of courage, but they do not make the courage any less remarkable.   They make it authentic. 

I’m learning in the work of reintegration that it is important for me to help women
make good connections in the community, to support good decisions, to listen to the fears, to comfort in the sorrow but perhaps one of the most important supports is recognizing courage, naming it, applauding it and admiring the beauty of the one who displays it.

- Debbie

Bicycles

When I (Caitlin) reminisce about my childhood, I have strong memories of riding my bike. I rode with my family around town, with my best friends to the park and by myself to school.

Two months ago, The Mustard Seed Edmonton hosted our annual Kid's Petting Zoo. Part of this event was a Win-A-Bike Contest, asking people to draw a picture of the bike they wanted to win or describe what they would use their bike for or what they would name it. We had over 120 entries from people ages 3 to 64. On the day of the event, twelve lucky winners went away with new bikes and huge smiles! It was a good day.

But then I looked through the entries of those who didn't win

and saw this picture...

And I read this....

Then I cried because there were still over 110 people who needed bikes. As staff, we decided to raise money to buy more bikes... and then synergy happened! All of a sudden, people knew people who knew people who could help us get more bikes. We've had bikes come from as far as Lacombe and volunteers have donated bikes or used their skills to fix them. One of my favourite things about working at The Mustard Seed is the way the wider community responds to help us.

It's been amazing to give the bikes away to families so they can be active and have fun together. Today I gave a bike to a man who recently got a new job and will use his bike to get to work. These bikes are giving people the opportunities to affordable transportation and free ways to be fit and have fun.

The Mustard Seed is about building community, growing hope and supporting change. Sometimes that starts with something as simple as a bicycle.