Dear Inner Circle,

OK, who stole 2015? This is my last note for the year as next Thursday will be Christmas Eve and Wayside will be running on adrenaline by then as we gear up for our street party. Perhaps it’s a feature of old age or perhaps it’s a characteristic of having fun, but time appears to accelerate. Get a bit of a feel for the year we’ve had by checking out our recent Annual Report.

Our awesome mission, to create community with no ‘us and them’, has set a path for our feet and the more we’ve moved toward our destiny, the more others have jumped alongside, contributing what they can and watching the impossible unfold in front of us. It’s not in the realm of ideas that our mission unfolds. I think it was Kierkegaard who said you can only “understand” your life backwards but you can only “live” your life going forwards. Our mission has lived this year in teaching people with mental health issues to surf down at Bondi; it's lived in moments of celebration when one of our visitors gets off the streets; it's lived in acting classes, in choirs, in music jams, in celebrations of countless things. It’s lived in the life of our little café, a place of meeting or refuge, of conversations or of no words at all.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

Gosh it’s the maddest time of year. It’s a time of year that seems to amplify the best and the worst. One fellow called me aside this morning and told me a story of how his son found him after looking for years. You’d think this was going to be a happy story but tears flowed freely down his face. “Isn’t this good news?” I asked. “Look at me,” he said, “Is this anything worthy of finding?” He was undone by shame because he was living on the street. “My dear brother, I promise you that this kid of yours cares only that you love him. Love matters more than riches, more than status, more than anything. Just love your boy, find the good in him and he’ll find the good in you.”

An eight-year-old girl walked in yesterday with some care packages that she’d made for rough sleepers. Think about that for a minute. Another 10-year-old has called on some  of his young friends and put together 200 care packages for people sleeping rough at Christmas time. Every time we turn on the television we only get bleak news but I remind you that there are some fine people in the world and some unbelievable kids. If you’re at our Christmas Day service on the street at 10.30am, I’m going to call some of these kids up front so you can see them and we’ll honour them.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

Normally bright and positive, I saw a young fellow lying flat on our café floor yesterday. Several times our staff or volunteers asked him to get up and sit at a table, as they should. In the afternoon I saw him sitting alone, his facial expression was deeply distressed. He explained to me that a few days ago, he had several ribs broken while he was, “assisting police with their enquiries”. It’s not hard to imagine him being cheeky with police. This young man was in dreadful pain. He’s sleeping rough and there is nowhere for him to straighten out to rest. He’s had a couple of nights sleeping in a friend’s car but its been impossible to be comfortable. Years ago I came off a motorbike and broke all my ribs down one side. The memory of that agony revisited me. I remember living in fear that I would cough or worse, sneeze. I remember trying to turn in bed and I had a comfortable bed. I had Robyn to help me move and feed me. I invited the man to the fourth floor where one of our meeting rooms has a large lounge. I worked from that room for an hour and a half to give him some rest. He went out like a light and I felt dreadful waking him when I had to go to my next appointment. As I lowered myself to bed last night, my poor brother was on my mind and in my heart.

Most of life’s precious moments come as an interruption in our effort to achieve something else. I admit to almost running through our café at times in the hope I can move from A to B. Ducking and weaving toward my office a giant of a man called, “Rev”. Almost reluctantly I turned to look up into the face of this big bruiser who only wanted to hug me. I embraced him and he said to his mates, “I can’t believe the Rev gave me a hug”. A woman just 6 feet away and not with this group of men stepped over and said, “Can you hug me too Father?” As I put my arms around her, she said, “I’ve been diagnosed with stage 3 cancer.” She put her head on my shoulder...[read more]