Lovin' Spoonfuls. . .

The Girl With The Gangrene Foot  is doing much better. The black leather army boot with no laces has been replaced by a rather professional looking wrap. She has quieted down considerably. I was going to say she seems subdued, but I rather hope she feels comforted also. One of our male clients, about her age, has taken a considerable interest in her and is protective and genuinely concerned for her, helping her look after all the little things she has trouble doing on her own. He seems to do this without smothering her or being possesive, a dangerous sign given her addictions and apparent vulnerablities.  It's encouraging to see.

A considerably younger girl -- a teenager -- has been in and out of the mission for some time. She's pregnant, and the father is in jail. She came in today stoned. I'm thinking: baby, dope -- hmmm, maybe these two things ought not to go together. I've often thought about the importance of mentoring in our lives, and it's difficult to realize that there is no-one in this girl's life who can make a difference. Achieving the kind of relationship that might have life-changing power in a homeless teen's life  requires time, and considerable effort, and numerous grand failures with few minor successes -- and who wants to go through all that? But think about it for half an hour and then tell me:  do you know a better way? It's love that conquers all. One person, one heart, one life, one love. There's no other way.

Mixed Blessings

This afternoon the staff spent a considerable amount of time trying to obtain medication for a client who is epileptic. She was also in considerable pain due to gangrene in one foot. No emergency room doctor will prescribe pain killers (narcotics), and being homeless and having a family doctor isn't always a workable proposition. After several hours of wrangling a drugstore delivered enough medication to control her epilepsy through the next 24 hours, after a doctor in a nearby clinic agreed to see her the following day.

There is nothing, however, that can be done for the pain. I can't imagine how painful gangrene must be, but I did wonder how one gets such a condition. She ignored an infection for a long, long time -- long after the body's alarm bells started ringing. How did she ignore the pain and various other indicators that something was terribly wrong? Well, the needle marks on the back of her hands might be an indication.

She was once somebody's baby. Someone held her in their arms and cried with joy for the love of her. Someone took her to her first day of school, wrapped Christmas presents for her and tied them with a bow, baked birthday cakes and helped her blow out the candles. It's so hard not to see the person standing in front of you, who might have rotten teeth, a horrendous odor, filthy clothes, but to see the person that  God so loves and treasures instead.

*****     *****     *****

On another note. . . a woman in the community -- on her own initiative -- sought out a number of merchants in the city to contribute to Christmas gift packages for the clients. She got the packages together, wrapped them and looked after the thank-you letters for us. All we have to do is make sure everyone gets one on Christmas morning. A local coffee shop hired a bus, and on Christmas Eve is taking every0ne who wants to come into their restaurant for soup and sandwiches and dessert.

Ain't that beautiful?

Sea Change

Today was the first day of our new operating mandate. We are now a minimum barrier shelter and are providing the city's Cold Weather Refuge Program. This means that we now are virtually wide open to the public, with our only two criteria for admission being A-) Coherent and B-) Not a Threat To Other Clients Or Staff. Client stays can now be -- due to the Cold Weather Refuge -- a matter of hours. Meals are available to the public without restriction as well. We will also have men and women staying in the same building (with segregated dorms) Again, a huge change for us, as we've only had male clients previously.

This is part of a multi-phase transition for us.  In the next few months we will open a second facility that will be devoted to longer term housing and client support programs.

What's amazed me about this process is how  stressed the clients are. I suddenly realized that, despite all our quirks, odd little inconsistencies and occaisional lapses, we have been a bastion of stability and predictability in our clients' world.  To a large extent, that meant that the clients knew how to 'milk' the system. On the other hand, I think we have indeed been a landmark for many in their turbulent lives.

Another thing that has impressed me greatly is the attitude of our leadership towards this change in our mandate. There has been a concerted effort to avoid the usual shelter fare of cameras, lockdowns and talking to clients through a glass partition. The staff, in turn, have responded beautifully. Everyone is working extra hours and there's nary a complaint to be heard.  No grumbling, no whining. It's freakin' awesome.

For the first time since I started working here, everyone seems to sense that we have the potential to achieve something really significant here, something really special.  When all the phases of the plan are complete, we will have a real impact in our community, both in terms of meeting the immediate needs of our most impoverished to making a reality altering difference in the lives of those who can rise above the street. I mean, how can you not love a job like this?

A Cat Named Impossible

We have a cat named 'Impossible' at the shelter, who loves to sleep atop one of the computer monitors in the office.  The reception counter is used 24 hours a day, so the computer is always on, and Impossible sleeps there all day and most of the night, as cats are wont to do. Impossible also drinks tea, and if you allow it to cool slightly will lap up half a cup with gusto. Last week one of the staff did just that, but Impossible batted the cup off the counter, right onto the monitor. Sparks, smoke and a peculiar burnt smell followed, which turned out to be an accumulation of cat hair inside the monitor, smoldering away.

Ergo, the monitor is replaced. Our budget for such acquisitions is zero, so we located an ancient used Dell model and plugged it in. The screen is much smaller and it looks and  feels different. Today the office receptionist, Margo, commented that she hated the monitor.  I suggested that perhaps the monitor hated her, also. I said that every time I logged off a dialog box appeared that read 'Do you want the computer to hate Margo', and I always said 'Yes'.

The other woman in the office, Persephone, came to her rescue. She said I was a very weird individual. When I said that in a homeless shelter weird was entirely relevant she replied that no, even in this environment, I stood out.

I've always aspired to be quirky and odd. But weird? Oh, dare to dream, I say! Dare to dream!