03
Mar
2016
Dear Inner Circle,
I’ve never done this before but below is a note I sent to all staff this week. Several people suggested that this note would be a helpful insight for you, our inner circle. I hope this note provides insight into Wayside and how we deal with extraordinary pressure but also maybe this could be helpful for any family or any organisation that likewise might be living through hard times.
So here it is… and…
Thanks for being part of our inner circle,
Graham
...
To the whole Wayside team,
Our way has been torrid lately. I was whinging a bit about my workload to Mon the other day and she told me about how someone had just projectile vomited on her. It put my whinge into perspective.
You’ll wonder if our way could get any more difficult after losing two people last week but I bring you more bad news today. Tammy died this morning. Some of you will know that Tammy, being transgender, was brutally bashed on two occasions before her death. I’m told her death is not directly the result of the bashings but what a dreadful week was the last week of her life. I know I’ve just delivered a deep wound to the hearts of many of you whose hearts were already heavy.
Keep reading here.
I’ve never done this before but below is a note I sent to all staff this week. Several people suggested that this note would be a helpful insight for you, our inner circle. I hope this note provides insight into Wayside and how we deal with extraordinary pressure but also maybe this could be helpful for any family or any organisation that likewise might be living through hard times.
So here it is… and…
Thanks for being part of our inner circle,
Graham
...
To the whole Wayside team,
Our way has been torrid lately. I was whinging a bit about my workload to Mon the other day and she told me about how someone had just projectile vomited on her. It put my whinge into perspective.
You’ll wonder if our way could get any more difficult after losing two people last week but I bring you more bad news today. Tammy died this morning. Some of you will know that Tammy, being transgender, was brutally bashed on two occasions before her death. I’m told her death is not directly the result of the bashings but what a dreadful week was the last week of her life. I know I’ve just delivered a deep wound to the hearts of many of you whose hearts were already heavy.
Keep reading here.
25
Feb
2016
Dear Inner Circle,
Heroin appears to be purer than it has been in recent times with the shocking consequence of overdose and death. A young bloke was with us yesterday, making real progress and expressing hope because he could begin to believe in a constructive path ahead. This morning he died. I sat with staff who openly wept. Apologies were offered to me for the tears, but in truth, if ever what was best about Wayside could be materialised and bottled, it would be those tears.
We take things personally here. If we were losing 'clients', perhaps we’d be less hurt by our losses but when we lose someone, we lose a ‘brother' or a ‘sister'. Another staff member was in my office just minutes ago, struggling to come to terms with this particular loss. He told me that the deceased man had last night asked him for a cigarette on his way home. The staff member roused him for putting him in a situation where he was asking him to break a Wayside rule, but he gave him a cigarette anyway. It was probably his last cigarette. Our staff member may have been off side with our rules but he was right in the centre of wisdom. It’s not often a staff member shares with me that he found comfort in breaking our policies.
Keep reading here.
Heroin appears to be purer than it has been in recent times with the shocking consequence of overdose and death. A young bloke was with us yesterday, making real progress and expressing hope because he could begin to believe in a constructive path ahead. This morning he died. I sat with staff who openly wept. Apologies were offered to me for the tears, but in truth, if ever what was best about Wayside could be materialised and bottled, it would be those tears.
We take things personally here. If we were losing 'clients', perhaps we’d be less hurt by our losses but when we lose someone, we lose a ‘brother' or a ‘sister'. Another staff member was in my office just minutes ago, struggling to come to terms with this particular loss. He told me that the deceased man had last night asked him for a cigarette on his way home. The staff member roused him for putting him in a situation where he was asking him to break a Wayside rule, but he gave him a cigarette anyway. It was probably his last cigarette. Our staff member may have been off side with our rules but he was right in the centre of wisdom. It’s not often a staff member shares with me that he found comfort in breaking our policies.
Keep reading here.
18
Feb
2016
Dear Inner Circle,
“Torrid” is one way of explaining life here just lately. We had a fellow attempt to take his own life with a rope although he fell into the capable and compassionate hands of Una before he came close to doing himself damage. Another dear lady, under the influence of ICE, suddenly produced a knife and threatened two of our staff. The saddest part of this situation was that she was threatening the person who loves her in this world the most. I’m thankful for highly trained and disciplined staff members who handled this according to long-practiced policy. The person was soon enough contained behind a locked door. Police responded quickly and soon enough the lady was in custody and on her way to psychiatric help. To top off a busy few days, on Sunday while our little church was on, a lady at our front door suddenly produced a knife and cut her own arm open causing a dramatic, spurting bleed. If that was me, I would have fainted, but this lady ran, fast. Our staff who were concerned that excessive blood loss could be fatal, also ran, fast. The outcome was a quick resolution where medical care and psychiatric care were put in place. Fabulous work on the part of all our people but you’ll understand that while they look pretty relaxed, they are on their toes all the time.
Quite often, members of our inner circle write back to me with stories that resonate with something I’ve written. I have to share this one with you (with permission) because it made me laugh out loud.
Dear Graham,
I always love reading your "Inner Circle" letters. When I read your comments on rules in the latest one, "wisdom is a tricky business", I thought you might enjoy this little story. I went to mass yesterday for Ash Wednesday and because it's a day on which Catholics come out of the woodwork to go to church, the church itself filled up quickly and the overflow was directed to a hall underneath. We were sitting on chairs waiting for the priest...[read more]
“Torrid” is one way of explaining life here just lately. We had a fellow attempt to take his own life with a rope although he fell into the capable and compassionate hands of Una before he came close to doing himself damage. Another dear lady, under the influence of ICE, suddenly produced a knife and threatened two of our staff. The saddest part of this situation was that she was threatening the person who loves her in this world the most. I’m thankful for highly trained and disciplined staff members who handled this according to long-practiced policy. The person was soon enough contained behind a locked door. Police responded quickly and soon enough the lady was in custody and on her way to psychiatric help. To top off a busy few days, on Sunday while our little church was on, a lady at our front door suddenly produced a knife and cut her own arm open causing a dramatic, spurting bleed. If that was me, I would have fainted, but this lady ran, fast. Our staff who were concerned that excessive blood loss could be fatal, also ran, fast. The outcome was a quick resolution where medical care and psychiatric care were put in place. Fabulous work on the part of all our people but you’ll understand that while they look pretty relaxed, they are on their toes all the time.
Quite often, members of our inner circle write back to me with stories that resonate with something I’ve written. I have to share this one with you (with permission) because it made me laugh out loud.
Dear Graham,
I always love reading your "Inner Circle" letters. When I read your comments on rules in the latest one, "wisdom is a tricky business", I thought you might enjoy this little story. I went to mass yesterday for Ash Wednesday and because it's a day on which Catholics come out of the woodwork to go to church, the church itself filled up quickly and the overflow was directed to a hall underneath. We were sitting on chairs waiting for the priest...[read more]
11
Feb
2016
Dear Inner Circle,
A rather well-dressed man made an appointment to speak in my office. We’d never met but he’d been part of this inner circle for some years. A man who had accomplished much found himself unable to cope with a work colleague. He described what certainly sounded like some pretty unfair events in the recent history of his workplace. Even so, the emotion seemed to loom larger than the events themselves. We chatted for the best part of an hour. I should say, he chatted and I mostly listened. For some reason that I can’t remember, the man began to talk of his mother. It became clear that nothing in the work place matched the trauma this man knew with his mother. I was amazed as a story of abuse unfolded and became darker and darker, including an event when his mother held a loaded gun to his head and claimed the right to end his life if she so chose. Suddenly and without any prompting from me, that man said, “I’m getting these two stories mixed up aren’t I?” It was a revelation that surprised him even as the words came out of his mouth. A thoroughly good man revealed his own secret to himself and left determined to do better with his difficult colleague. He gave permission for this story to be told as not even his close circle would spot his identity here. What a blessed and privileged life I lead.
At Sydney airport recently, I made a visit to the men’s room. I washed my hands and noticed as I turned the water off that the tap had a spongy feel, almost as if the tap was not firmly attached to the basin. It was not worthy of a look or a second thought. When I was about 10 steps away, drying my hands, a loud voice yelled, “Hey you!” I looked to see a rather tall man who appeared to be looking at me. “You must turn off the tap,” he yelled. I noticed that a tap, presumably the one I used, was still running slightly. I was surprised enough to hesitate for just a moment but the man increased the volume. “You must turn off the...[read more]
A rather well-dressed man made an appointment to speak in my office. We’d never met but he’d been part of this inner circle for some years. A man who had accomplished much found himself unable to cope with a work colleague. He described what certainly sounded like some pretty unfair events in the recent history of his workplace. Even so, the emotion seemed to loom larger than the events themselves. We chatted for the best part of an hour. I should say, he chatted and I mostly listened. For some reason that I can’t remember, the man began to talk of his mother. It became clear that nothing in the work place matched the trauma this man knew with his mother. I was amazed as a story of abuse unfolded and became darker and darker, including an event when his mother held a loaded gun to his head and claimed the right to end his life if she so chose. Suddenly and without any prompting from me, that man said, “I’m getting these two stories mixed up aren’t I?” It was a revelation that surprised him even as the words came out of his mouth. A thoroughly good man revealed his own secret to himself and left determined to do better with his difficult colleague. He gave permission for this story to be told as not even his close circle would spot his identity here. What a blessed and privileged life I lead.
At Sydney airport recently, I made a visit to the men’s room. I washed my hands and noticed as I turned the water off that the tap had a spongy feel, almost as if the tap was not firmly attached to the basin. It was not worthy of a look or a second thought. When I was about 10 steps away, drying my hands, a loud voice yelled, “Hey you!” I looked to see a rather tall man who appeared to be looking at me. “You must turn off the tap,” he yelled. I noticed that a tap, presumably the one I used, was still running slightly. I was surprised enough to hesitate for just a moment but the man increased the volume. “You must turn off the...[read more]
04
Feb
2016
Dear Inner Circle,
Walking through the café yesterday I saw a man spot me and raise his hand high. His rather lovely face lit up because someone had told him I was too busy to come down and have lunch with him. I was too busy but suddenly my agenda evaporated. It’s funny how an authentic meeting between two people just melts away everything else. In my social work days I was a fanatic for a system of analysis called, “transactional analysis”. For quite some time, every encounter I had with people was analysed according to this system that imposed a framework of meaning onto every act of communication. At the time I didn’t see it, but it caused me to develop a language that was not really human. It caused me to be more interested in finding meaning than finding the person in front of me. I was a problem solver in those days. My naïve religious outlook back then was that Jesus must have been a social worker too. In due course I could see that Jesus was nothing like a social worker and no matter how you analyse his encounter with the woman at the well, he simply broke all the rules. He’d certainly not get a job in any agency I know of. Anyway, this lovely face lit up as he bought me lunch. With great ceremony he handed me $20, telling me that it was a debt he owed me. I had no memory of any debt. He explained that he was robbed at an ATM about a month ago and I lent him $20 to get him through that weekend. I know this man just lives on a small allowance that the public trustee provides and so I said, “But there is no need for you to buy me lunch.” His reply was, “But that’s what friends do”. Lunch was a celebration of many good things.
So our High Court ruled yesterday that our government does not commit an illegal act when it keeps people in detention overseas. I have some understanding of the complexities facing our government when it comes to controlling our borders, I’m just bewildered and wondering what happened to the Australia I...[read more]
Walking through the café yesterday I saw a man spot me and raise his hand high. His rather lovely face lit up because someone had told him I was too busy to come down and have lunch with him. I was too busy but suddenly my agenda evaporated. It’s funny how an authentic meeting between two people just melts away everything else. In my social work days I was a fanatic for a system of analysis called, “transactional analysis”. For quite some time, every encounter I had with people was analysed according to this system that imposed a framework of meaning onto every act of communication. At the time I didn’t see it, but it caused me to develop a language that was not really human. It caused me to be more interested in finding meaning than finding the person in front of me. I was a problem solver in those days. My naïve religious outlook back then was that Jesus must have been a social worker too. In due course I could see that Jesus was nothing like a social worker and no matter how you analyse his encounter with the woman at the well, he simply broke all the rules. He’d certainly not get a job in any agency I know of. Anyway, this lovely face lit up as he bought me lunch. With great ceremony he handed me $20, telling me that it was a debt he owed me. I had no memory of any debt. He explained that he was robbed at an ATM about a month ago and I lent him $20 to get him through that weekend. I know this man just lives on a small allowance that the public trustee provides and so I said, “But there is no need for you to buy me lunch.” His reply was, “But that’s what friends do”. Lunch was a celebration of many good things.
So our High Court ruled yesterday that our government does not commit an illegal act when it keeps people in detention overseas. I have some understanding of the complexities facing our government when it comes to controlling our borders, I’m just bewildered and wondering what happened to the Australia I...[read more]
28
Jan
2016
Dear Inner Circle,
In an unusual week, I’m writing this note from Adelaide. The next few days we’ll spend catching up with my dear old Mum. Visiting a dementia ward is a difficult exercise. I can’t help but think that modern science is making us all live too long. In Mum’s ward, few people want to be there. Most want to live in a life now long gone and only dimly remembered. One dear old lady who is 105 in Mum’s place said to me once, “Growing old is not for wimps”. Another lovely old lady in her nineties is a bit inclined to find male visitors attractive and she will confidentially tell them, “I’m going to have your baby.” Although Mum doesn’t remember who I am, if you put her in front of a piano, she can play beautifully and sing all the words to the songs she loved years ago. It will be sad when that skill is lost too. The little frail frame is still my Mum. She’s still gentle and kind. She still has a tone of voice that belonged to my Mum. She still looks around her and finds plenty to love even if it all feels unfamiliar to her. I will treasure our time this week even though it will reaffirm my sense that there are much worse things in life than death. There is a time to go and when Mum’s time comes, I’ll celebrate an awesome life and celebrate a long-awaited release.
After conducting a wedding on Monday, I jumped onto a plane to Melbourne and from there drove to the Murray Shire just over the river from Echuca. For some years now I’ve been an Australia Day ambassador which means I travel to a rural community and share in their celebrations for Australia Day. It’s an honour and a joy to enter into the life of a place that is so different from Kings Cross and The Wayside Chapel. A few hundred people gathered in a beautiful park in the land of the Yorta Yorta people. As I was speaking a massive truck drove past and a pig on board made such a loud squeal that it shocked me for a moment. Someone yelled out, “I bet you...[read more]
In an unusual week, I’m writing this note from Adelaide. The next few days we’ll spend catching up with my dear old Mum. Visiting a dementia ward is a difficult exercise. I can’t help but think that modern science is making us all live too long. In Mum’s ward, few people want to be there. Most want to live in a life now long gone and only dimly remembered. One dear old lady who is 105 in Mum’s place said to me once, “Growing old is not for wimps”. Another lovely old lady in her nineties is a bit inclined to find male visitors attractive and she will confidentially tell them, “I’m going to have your baby.” Although Mum doesn’t remember who I am, if you put her in front of a piano, she can play beautifully and sing all the words to the songs she loved years ago. It will be sad when that skill is lost too. The little frail frame is still my Mum. She’s still gentle and kind. She still has a tone of voice that belonged to my Mum. She still looks around her and finds plenty to love even if it all feels unfamiliar to her. I will treasure our time this week even though it will reaffirm my sense that there are much worse things in life than death. There is a time to go and when Mum’s time comes, I’ll celebrate an awesome life and celebrate a long-awaited release.
After conducting a wedding on Monday, I jumped onto a plane to Melbourne and from there drove to the Murray Shire just over the river from Echuca. For some years now I’ve been an Australia Day ambassador which means I travel to a rural community and share in their celebrations for Australia Day. It’s an honour and a joy to enter into the life of a place that is so different from Kings Cross and The Wayside Chapel. A few hundred people gathered in a beautiful park in the land of the Yorta Yorta people. As I was speaking a massive truck drove past and a pig on board made such a loud squeal that it shocked me for a moment. Someone yelled out, “I bet you...[read more]
21
Jan
2016
Dear Inner Circle,
Walking past our front door just a few minutes ago, a woman put her arms out, inviting me to embrace her. I put my arms around the woman and a rat crawled up her back and stood on her shoulder with it’s gaze fixed on me. Saint Frances talked to the animals and on occasions, so do I, but I suspect our message is not the same. I was shocked to the point of being unable to move my arms. I wanted to flick this rat on the nose and say, “That is for the plague of 1349!” but alas I was paralysed and it looked like an animal with no sense of history.
January has been crazy. Actually, every January is nuts. It could be that over-spending, over-eating and over-drinking is bad for your sanity but for whatever reason, we seem to work at full speed at this time of year. I pay tribute to all of our amazing teams but particularly to our Community Services Centre teams in Kings Cross and Bondi, to our fabulous Twilight team, and with special mention of our Aboriginal Project team who do an awesome job in the most demanding context, all year, every year but especially in January.
Keep reading here.
Walking past our front door just a few minutes ago, a woman put her arms out, inviting me to embrace her. I put my arms around the woman and a rat crawled up her back and stood on her shoulder with it’s gaze fixed on me. Saint Frances talked to the animals and on occasions, so do I, but I suspect our message is not the same. I was shocked to the point of being unable to move my arms. I wanted to flick this rat on the nose and say, “That is for the plague of 1349!” but alas I was paralysed and it looked like an animal with no sense of history.
January has been crazy. Actually, every January is nuts. It could be that over-spending, over-eating and over-drinking is bad for your sanity but for whatever reason, we seem to work at full speed at this time of year. I pay tribute to all of our amazing teams but particularly to our Community Services Centre teams in Kings Cross and Bondi, to our fabulous Twilight team, and with special mention of our Aboriginal Project team who do an awesome job in the most demanding context, all year, every year but especially in January.
Keep reading here.
17
Dec
2015
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.
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.
10
Dec
2015
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.
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.
03
Dec
2015
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]
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]
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