20
Jul
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
A successful businessman sat with me this week in an act of great courage. He has a gnawing worry that he’s losing the love of his life and everything he’s trying seems to make it worse. There’s been holidays and expensive gifts and dinners. There’s been difficult discussions that seem to heal nothing. There is no evidence of a competing love anywhere. There is plenty of consummation but not much giving going on. You cannot take what can only be given. Forcing love; reminding a partner of their obligations can only fuel resentment. While there is a lot of consummation happening, there is little contemplation. 80% of the joy of anything is in the contemplation of it rather than the consummation. I asked the man what would happen if he ate food in the same way as he sought intimacy with his partner. Woofing down food as if there will be none for the next few days, would rob the act of eating of its joy and context. Imagine that I had been away for some time and upon my return, Robyn had cooked my favourite meal and taken extra care to set a pretty table with flowers. Imagine if I walked in and got that meal down as quickly as I could. I wouldn’t particularly enjoy the food and I wouldn’t see the real gift that Robyn had made.
An impressive businesswoman this week told me how her life was unravelling. She has a loving husband and a healthy family and yet her business has parked itself in a difficult spot. This woman is really a professional problem-solver and it hurts to admit that the advice she would offer to others at such a time, appears to be flimsy at best. She’s been through scrapes before and found a way through and perhaps this is just another passing phase. The issue seems to be an accumulative emotional burden, “a weariness with life”, as my mother would call it. This woman heard me speak at a public forum where I explained how life does and should ebb and flow between highs and lows; between daytime and night time;...[read more]
A successful businessman sat with me this week in an act of great courage. He has a gnawing worry that he’s losing the love of his life and everything he’s trying seems to make it worse. There’s been holidays and expensive gifts and dinners. There’s been difficult discussions that seem to heal nothing. There is no evidence of a competing love anywhere. There is plenty of consummation but not much giving going on. You cannot take what can only be given. Forcing love; reminding a partner of their obligations can only fuel resentment. While there is a lot of consummation happening, there is little contemplation. 80% of the joy of anything is in the contemplation of it rather than the consummation. I asked the man what would happen if he ate food in the same way as he sought intimacy with his partner. Woofing down food as if there will be none for the next few days, would rob the act of eating of its joy and context. Imagine that I had been away for some time and upon my return, Robyn had cooked my favourite meal and taken extra care to set a pretty table with flowers. Imagine if I walked in and got that meal down as quickly as I could. I wouldn’t particularly enjoy the food and I wouldn’t see the real gift that Robyn had made.
An impressive businesswoman this week told me how her life was unravelling. She has a loving husband and a healthy family and yet her business has parked itself in a difficult spot. This woman is really a professional problem-solver and it hurts to admit that the advice she would offer to others at such a time, appears to be flimsy at best. She’s been through scrapes before and found a way through and perhaps this is just another passing phase. The issue seems to be an accumulative emotional burden, “a weariness with life”, as my mother would call it. This woman heard me speak at a public forum where I explained how life does and should ebb and flow between highs and lows; between daytime and night time;...[read more]
13
Jul
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
On Tuesday I had to duck out for an appointment and in the middle of the footpath, two blocks from here, I saw a fellow very clearly under the influence of some substance. I knew him by sight but I don’t think we’ve ever spoken. I crouched down next to him, hoping to engage in some way. “It’s got me Rev". Without thought I said, “Step one might be to call this thing by its real name”. Although we exchanged these syllables, there was really no conversation. The “it” that had him should be called severance or alienation. Eventually, I walked away a bit disappointed that I’d sounded so judgmental. The world is full of good people who use drugs. Humanity, for as long as history has been recorded, has used substances for various purposes. I guess there has always been some who fall into addiction. Addiction seems to develop when someone latches onto one good and calls it the whole good. In this way, I’ve seen fitness fanatics forfeit life and I’ve seen religious fanatics forfeit life in just the same way as a heroin addict. The problem isn’t in the substance but in what’s missing. Generally, addicts lack a balance of friendships, exercise, relaxation, play, learning, hobbies, sleep, religion or philosophy. It seems to me that the good of life is multiple and a good life is a whole life, with a balance of all these things.
Few announcements come with more relief than when I can tell you at this time of year that we reached our goal for our Winter Appeal. Every year we set our goal, and I think as the leader and someone of some faith, I ought to be pumping up our troops like a football coach, saying, “Come on people, we can do this!” The truth is that I’m the one on the team who is most intimidated by the task and quietly whisper under my breath, “Only a miracle.” So I pay tribute to our donors. Some of our donors are wealthy. I don’t think I’d met any wealthy people before I started work at Wayside. The...[read more]
On Tuesday I had to duck out for an appointment and in the middle of the footpath, two blocks from here, I saw a fellow very clearly under the influence of some substance. I knew him by sight but I don’t think we’ve ever spoken. I crouched down next to him, hoping to engage in some way. “It’s got me Rev". Without thought I said, “Step one might be to call this thing by its real name”. Although we exchanged these syllables, there was really no conversation. The “it” that had him should be called severance or alienation. Eventually, I walked away a bit disappointed that I’d sounded so judgmental. The world is full of good people who use drugs. Humanity, for as long as history has been recorded, has used substances for various purposes. I guess there has always been some who fall into addiction. Addiction seems to develop when someone latches onto one good and calls it the whole good. In this way, I’ve seen fitness fanatics forfeit life and I’ve seen religious fanatics forfeit life in just the same way as a heroin addict. The problem isn’t in the substance but in what’s missing. Generally, addicts lack a balance of friendships, exercise, relaxation, play, learning, hobbies, sleep, religion or philosophy. It seems to me that the good of life is multiple and a good life is a whole life, with a balance of all these things.
Few announcements come with more relief than when I can tell you at this time of year that we reached our goal for our Winter Appeal. Every year we set our goal, and I think as the leader and someone of some faith, I ought to be pumping up our troops like a football coach, saying, “Come on people, we can do this!” The truth is that I’m the one on the team who is most intimidated by the task and quietly whisper under my breath, “Only a miracle.” So I pay tribute to our donors. Some of our donors are wealthy. I don’t think I’d met any wealthy people before I started work at Wayside. The...[read more]
06
Jul
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
A university student, who was such an achiever that a “high distinction” was her minimum expectation, used to regularly help out our marketing team for a few years. No matter the task we gave her, the quality of her work exceeded anything we hoped to receive. A couple of years ago, she sat in my office, despondent because although a career as a brilliant lawyer was assured, she felt like life had been postponed or even missed. She decided to take a couple of years away from a singular focus on academia and took a job overseas. She threw herself into law in a third world country whose history and legal complexities are dazzling, depressing even. Her goal was not just to encounter the world but to make space in her life for people. She sat in my office this week and I didn’t say much because I was awestruck. The one thing I said multiple times was, “There is so much more of you now". She joked that she’d put on weight, but even that was a lovely observation because she used to be hauntingly skinny. I was witness to a transformation and it would catch the breath of anyone who had eyes to see. I’m sure her parents are awestruck too. For an hour this week, I think I knew the wonder that they must have known when they first met their baby and before they gave her a name.
This is NAIDOC Week which is always big in the Wayside calendar. Every day this week has a special event of some kind. Our Aboriginal community have put on an art show and our hall buzzed when they opened it with love to our community. The buzz level then increased considerably yesterday when a celebratory lunch was held in Kings Cross. Today there will be another lunch celebration at Bondi and on Friday a special football match held in Redfern. NAIDOC Week has nearly a hundred years of history. It’s a week where we celebrate Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander history, culture and achievements, and we recognise the importance of all of this for every person who...[read more]
A university student, who was such an achiever that a “high distinction” was her minimum expectation, used to regularly help out our marketing team for a few years. No matter the task we gave her, the quality of her work exceeded anything we hoped to receive. A couple of years ago, she sat in my office, despondent because although a career as a brilliant lawyer was assured, she felt like life had been postponed or even missed. She decided to take a couple of years away from a singular focus on academia and took a job overseas. She threw herself into law in a third world country whose history and legal complexities are dazzling, depressing even. Her goal was not just to encounter the world but to make space in her life for people. She sat in my office this week and I didn’t say much because I was awestruck. The one thing I said multiple times was, “There is so much more of you now". She joked that she’d put on weight, but even that was a lovely observation because she used to be hauntingly skinny. I was witness to a transformation and it would catch the breath of anyone who had eyes to see. I’m sure her parents are awestruck too. For an hour this week, I think I knew the wonder that they must have known when they first met their baby and before they gave her a name.
This is NAIDOC Week which is always big in the Wayside calendar. Every day this week has a special event of some kind. Our Aboriginal community have put on an art show and our hall buzzed when they opened it with love to our community. The buzz level then increased considerably yesterday when a celebratory lunch was held in Kings Cross. Today there will be another lunch celebration at Bondi and on Friday a special football match held in Redfern. NAIDOC Week has nearly a hundred years of history. It’s a week where we celebrate Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander history, culture and achievements, and we recognise the importance of all of this for every person who...[read more]
29
Jun
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
Not one face was familiar when I walked in this morning. There was a lady dressed as Father Christmas doing some vigorous exercises, I guess, in preparation for December. There was a fellow squatted on the ground, holding his head in his hands like his world had utterly collapsed. One fellow made a bee line for me and said, “Are you in charge?” “That’s the rumour,” I said, “although I spend most of my days doing what I’m told”. My humour was lost on him. He said, “I’ve been studying the First World War…” “Well, let’s have a cup of tea and talk about it because it’s one of my favourite subjects”. We’d not said more than a couple of sentences before I realised he knew nothing of the First World War. “Well tell me this then,” he said, “What happens when we die, you know, where do we go and how will I know if I can trust you?” My sense was that he was about as interested in this question as he was the First World War. I said, “What’s up? Are you afraid of dying?” “The last time I felt like this,” he said, “I swallowed six bottles of pills”. Finally! There is nothing more human than a conversation. This man was able to name his fear and we’ve been able to find him some ongoing support.
When they were clearing homeless people from Martin Place last Saturday, I happened to be on the spot. My understanding is that the City of Sydney have been most supportive of the people sleeping rough and have shown great sensitivity to this group. I also understand that the builders on the site have left the need to clear people out of the area until the very last moment. Building is at a stage where it would be unsafe to allow people to stay put. On Saturday that was a massive team from the State Department of Family and Community Services, doing all they could to find better options for people. I’ve heard and read some criticism this week but in my view, good will and sensitivity marked every part of...[read more]
Not one face was familiar when I walked in this morning. There was a lady dressed as Father Christmas doing some vigorous exercises, I guess, in preparation for December. There was a fellow squatted on the ground, holding his head in his hands like his world had utterly collapsed. One fellow made a bee line for me and said, “Are you in charge?” “That’s the rumour,” I said, “although I spend most of my days doing what I’m told”. My humour was lost on him. He said, “I’ve been studying the First World War…” “Well, let’s have a cup of tea and talk about it because it’s one of my favourite subjects”. We’d not said more than a couple of sentences before I realised he knew nothing of the First World War. “Well tell me this then,” he said, “What happens when we die, you know, where do we go and how will I know if I can trust you?” My sense was that he was about as interested in this question as he was the First World War. I said, “What’s up? Are you afraid of dying?” “The last time I felt like this,” he said, “I swallowed six bottles of pills”. Finally! There is nothing more human than a conversation. This man was able to name his fear and we’ve been able to find him some ongoing support.
When they were clearing homeless people from Martin Place last Saturday, I happened to be on the spot. My understanding is that the City of Sydney have been most supportive of the people sleeping rough and have shown great sensitivity to this group. I also understand that the builders on the site have left the need to clear people out of the area until the very last moment. Building is at a stage where it would be unsafe to allow people to stay put. On Saturday that was a massive team from the State Department of Family and Community Services, doing all they could to find better options for people. I’ve heard and read some criticism this week but in my view, good will and sensitivity marked every part of...[read more]
22
Jun
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
This week you have me again, Jon Owen, Wayside’s Assistant Pastor, stepping in for Graham Long. Thank you for welcoming me into the space you share together. Graham is recovering well and looks forward to sharing with you next week.
“Jonny, got a dollar?” My pockets were empty so I offered him a chat instead. This kid had sent us all into a spin when he inexplicably disappeared for a few weeks. The alert that he had gone missing was raised after a friend who hadn’t seen him for a while spotted him eating out of a bin in another part of the city. A few days earlier I’d stopped by his mum’s house to check in on him. I was met by her new boyfriend at the door who told me that the kid was “doing his own thing” for a couple of weeks to give them some space. He was 11 years old.
I was relieved to see this little fellow was safe and I told him how worried we’d all been. He shrugged, laughed his absence off and quickly moved the conversation along. His keen mind skipped around a variety of topics, using language filled with colour and regularly returning to the phrase “deez nutz” for comfort. The expression sailed right over my head, a clear sign I’m getting old. Much like a Sunday drive on a winding country road, our chat casually covered some ground and just when it all began to feel a little familiar, he steered it around a sharp corner. “I don't think anyone actually plans to have kids, they just happen and then they get in your way”. Then his mouth was off again in another direction until another flash of inspiration. “You know stuff about religion right? So did God have parents or didn’t they want him either?” His voice tapered off as he heard his own words spill out, realising it was too late to stuff them back in. His eyes darted to mine then down, in a look that was somewhere between shame and resignation.
Keep reading[read more]
This week you have me again, Jon Owen, Wayside’s Assistant Pastor, stepping in for Graham Long. Thank you for welcoming me into the space you share together. Graham is recovering well and looks forward to sharing with you next week.
“Jonny, got a dollar?” My pockets were empty so I offered him a chat instead. This kid had sent us all into a spin when he inexplicably disappeared for a few weeks. The alert that he had gone missing was raised after a friend who hadn’t seen him for a while spotted him eating out of a bin in another part of the city. A few days earlier I’d stopped by his mum’s house to check in on him. I was met by her new boyfriend at the door who told me that the kid was “doing his own thing” for a couple of weeks to give them some space. He was 11 years old.
I was relieved to see this little fellow was safe and I told him how worried we’d all been. He shrugged, laughed his absence off and quickly moved the conversation along. His keen mind skipped around a variety of topics, using language filled with colour and regularly returning to the phrase “deez nutz” for comfort. The expression sailed right over my head, a clear sign I’m getting old. Much like a Sunday drive on a winding country road, our chat casually covered some ground and just when it all began to feel a little familiar, he steered it around a sharp corner. “I don't think anyone actually plans to have kids, they just happen and then they get in your way”. Then his mouth was off again in another direction until another flash of inspiration. “You know stuff about religion right? So did God have parents or didn’t they want him either?” His voice tapered off as he heard his own words spill out, realising it was too late to stuff them back in. His eyes darted to mine then down, in a look that was somewhere between shame and resignation.
Keep reading
08
Jun
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
About 90 fresh faces filled our Community Hall for an orientation of new volunteers this week. It's always an honour to speak at these events, although on this occasion, I was squashing the honour between two demanding appointments. Walking into the hall, I was astonished, as I always am, that so many people are keen to be involved with us at Wayside. I was handed a microphone and began looking for my first words when a face in the front row made time stop. In a moment I cared nothing about the pressing appointment in front of me, or even what I was meant to be doing at that very time. A stunning, confident, warm face burst to life when our eyes met. The first time I’d laid eyes on her, years ago, there was no eye contact; the woman couldn't look up from the floor. She was in real trouble. A marriage of abuse and isolation had driven her mad to the point that she burnt her house down with no care about whether the fire took her husband's life or her own. The day we met, she had condemned herself as the lowest of human beings but standing in front of a hall full of people was a young woman, fully alive and keen to serve others at Wayside. Sometimes looking into a face can lead you to, "Wow!" It's awe. I read once that the word, "awe" comes from the sound of our breath when we lift back our heads in wonder.
Our chefs and volunteer cooks at Wayside really do make their food with love. At Bondi people are offered menus and receive table service from the best volunteer wait staff in Sydney. All main dishes cost in the order of one to two dollars but the food is worthy of any restaurant in the main street. I've seen plenty of people taking photos of their food because it is so beautifully presented. One of our chefs at Kings Cross puts so much into his cooking that he thinks his food has the power to heal. Yesterday he sent some chocolate biscuits to the cafe and he called them "electro-choc-therapy-cookies"
About 90 fresh faces filled our Community Hall for an orientation of new volunteers this week. It's always an honour to speak at these events, although on this occasion, I was squashing the honour between two demanding appointments. Walking into the hall, I was astonished, as I always am, that so many people are keen to be involved with us at Wayside. I was handed a microphone and began looking for my first words when a face in the front row made time stop. In a moment I cared nothing about the pressing appointment in front of me, or even what I was meant to be doing at that very time. A stunning, confident, warm face burst to life when our eyes met. The first time I’d laid eyes on her, years ago, there was no eye contact; the woman couldn't look up from the floor. She was in real trouble. A marriage of abuse and isolation had driven her mad to the point that she burnt her house down with no care about whether the fire took her husband's life or her own. The day we met, she had condemned herself as the lowest of human beings but standing in front of a hall full of people was a young woman, fully alive and keen to serve others at Wayside. Sometimes looking into a face can lead you to, "Wow!" It's awe. I read once that the word, "awe" comes from the sound of our breath when we lift back our heads in wonder.
Our chefs and volunteer cooks at Wayside really do make their food with love. At Bondi people are offered menus and receive table service from the best volunteer wait staff in Sydney. All main dishes cost in the order of one to two dollars but the food is worthy of any restaurant in the main street. I've seen plenty of people taking photos of their food because it is so beautifully presented. One of our chefs at Kings Cross puts so much into his cooking that he thinks his food has the power to heal. Yesterday he sent some chocolate biscuits to the cafe and he called them "electro-choc-therapy-cookies"
01
Jun
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
Walking down Hughes Street this morning, I met a woman whose face was swollen around one eye and cheek bone. It was a familiar face, even though we have probably only ever spoken perhaps once in the past twelve months. I remember her because she speaks with extraordinary warmth. While I have no idea of her background, my hunch is that she was raised by grandparents because she dresses like a woman double her age and her vocabulary is full of the kind of euphemisms that I associate with a kindly old aunt. “Oh gosh!” I said, “What happened to you?” She took one of my hands as if I needed comforting and said, “I was sleeping under the railway bridge last night and a complete stranger jumped on me and insisted I give something that I didn’t want to give him.” Her rough but warm hand really was extraordinarily comforting as I tried to express my sadness of the horror she’d lived through last night. “Don’t worry Rev,” she said with the best smile she could give through a sore face, “I fought like a tiger!”
What a fabulous time of year to be in love with Sydney. In these perfect autumn days, it’s an ideal time to walk around the city and notice how clean it is. It’s a good time to notice that although there is often helicopter noise overhead, they are not shooting at us. Our evenings a little cooler, the real bitter winter hasn’t yet set in, and the conditions are perfect for walking around the city to see how the Vivid Festival lights up our city with astonishing, moving colour. Last night I stood mesmerised in front of the famous Coca-Cola sign in the Cross. What is normally just a landmark or advertising is animated in ways you would think impossible for such a sign. And on the billboard beside it is a moving show of what must be hundreds of...[read more]
Walking down Hughes Street this morning, I met a woman whose face was swollen around one eye and cheek bone. It was a familiar face, even though we have probably only ever spoken perhaps once in the past twelve months. I remember her because she speaks with extraordinary warmth. While I have no idea of her background, my hunch is that she was raised by grandparents because she dresses like a woman double her age and her vocabulary is full of the kind of euphemisms that I associate with a kindly old aunt. “Oh gosh!” I said, “What happened to you?” She took one of my hands as if I needed comforting and said, “I was sleeping under the railway bridge last night and a complete stranger jumped on me and insisted I give something that I didn’t want to give him.” Her rough but warm hand really was extraordinarily comforting as I tried to express my sadness of the horror she’d lived through last night. “Don’t worry Rev,” she said with the best smile she could give through a sore face, “I fought like a tiger!”
What a fabulous time of year to be in love with Sydney. In these perfect autumn days, it’s an ideal time to walk around the city and notice how clean it is. It’s a good time to notice that although there is often helicopter noise overhead, they are not shooting at us. Our evenings a little cooler, the real bitter winter hasn’t yet set in, and the conditions are perfect for walking around the city to see how the Vivid Festival lights up our city with astonishing, moving colour. Last night I stood mesmerised in front of the famous Coca-Cola sign in the Cross. What is normally just a landmark or advertising is animated in ways you would think impossible for such a sign. And on the billboard beside it is a moving show of what must be hundreds of...[read more]
25
May
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
A couple of weeks ago I wrote some uncharacteristically harsh things about drug testing as a condition of support for unemployed people. The same day that I wrote harshly, the Prime Minister spoke of the issue as a question of “love”. He stopped me in my tracks. I spoke like a politician and he spoke like a spiritual leader! Some may have seen the PM’s words as naïve, or as an attempt to manipulate the naïve, but I know the man and he spoke from the depths of his heart. When has a Prime Minister ever used such language?
The PM sees the mechanisms of government to be perfectly congruent with love. I have a mate (a QC and an ex Attorney-General) who sees the law itself as a loving provision for a community. I get it. Without the law and all that government provides, the country would quickly descend into a chaotic and unlovely place. If we were a healthier culture; if we had not become a culture of victims, crusaders and opportunists, perhaps we could have heard his words and been elevated by them.
Keep reading here.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote some uncharacteristically harsh things about drug testing as a condition of support for unemployed people. The same day that I wrote harshly, the Prime Minister spoke of the issue as a question of “love”. He stopped me in my tracks. I spoke like a politician and he spoke like a spiritual leader! Some may have seen the PM’s words as naïve, or as an attempt to manipulate the naïve, but I know the man and he spoke from the depths of his heart. When has a Prime Minister ever used such language?
The PM sees the mechanisms of government to be perfectly congruent with love. I have a mate (a QC and an ex Attorney-General) who sees the law itself as a loving provision for a community. I get it. Without the law and all that government provides, the country would quickly descend into a chaotic and unlovely place. If we were a healthier culture; if we had not become a culture of victims, crusaders and opportunists, perhaps we could have heard his words and been elevated by them.
Keep reading here.
18
May
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
A text popped up on my phone today from a young woman whom I hadn’t heard from in over a year. When I first met her, she was only 11, a tiny, withdrawn girl whose beautiful smile could light up a room, yet her eyes rarely lifted from the floor. We lived next door to her in Mt Druitt and she would often come over to our house to talk with my wife Lisa. Initially I thought she came to play with our young daughters, who simply adored her. Yet in time, I realised she was escaping a household where abuse was a daily occurrence. It’s difficult for me to understand a father who could scream at his beautiful children until 2 in the morning. It’s even more difficult to understand why some nights she would take it upon herself to deliberately bait her father when he returned home in a drunken rage so that he wouldn’t turn on her mum and younger siblings. When we moved away from Mt Druitt this girl was the person we found it hardest to leave, we even quietly begged her to come with us. Her message today stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t a cry for help, it wasn’t a list of the latest failings of her father, it was a message full of hope. She thanked us for the years of love we’d shown her and talked of the happy times she’d spent in our home. She told me that she’d just finished a bushwalk through Tasmania with her school, a feat she’d never thought she’d accomplish. I’ve re-read her text about one hundred times today. Sometimes it’s the smallest things that leave a lasting impact.
When something human happens, at least two people are changed. This week a searching email made its way to my inbox from the partner of a fellow who was living on the cold streets of Melbourne 20 years ago. I’d walked past him on the same corner every day on my way to work until eventually I gave in, and ignoring some of my better judgement, asked him if he wanted to stay in our spare room for a few weeks. We took him in off the streets, but we...[read more]
A text popped up on my phone today from a young woman whom I hadn’t heard from in over a year. When I first met her, she was only 11, a tiny, withdrawn girl whose beautiful smile could light up a room, yet her eyes rarely lifted from the floor. We lived next door to her in Mt Druitt and she would often come over to our house to talk with my wife Lisa. Initially I thought she came to play with our young daughters, who simply adored her. Yet in time, I realised she was escaping a household where abuse was a daily occurrence. It’s difficult for me to understand a father who could scream at his beautiful children until 2 in the morning. It’s even more difficult to understand why some nights she would take it upon herself to deliberately bait her father when he returned home in a drunken rage so that he wouldn’t turn on her mum and younger siblings. When we moved away from Mt Druitt this girl was the person we found it hardest to leave, we even quietly begged her to come with us. Her message today stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t a cry for help, it wasn’t a list of the latest failings of her father, it was a message full of hope. She thanked us for the years of love we’d shown her and talked of the happy times she’d spent in our home. She told me that she’d just finished a bushwalk through Tasmania with her school, a feat she’d never thought she’d accomplish. I’ve re-read her text about one hundred times today. Sometimes it’s the smallest things that leave a lasting impact.
When something human happens, at least two people are changed. This week a searching email made its way to my inbox from the partner of a fellow who was living on the cold streets of Melbourne 20 years ago. I’d walked past him on the same corner every day on my way to work until eventually I gave in, and ignoring some of my better judgement, asked him if he wanted to stay in our spare room for a few weeks. We took him in off the streets, but we...[read more]
11
May
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
Costly kindness changes the world. The Kings Cross police were called to attend to a lady in the main drag the other day. The woman was in poor health and barely conscious, I presume under the influence of a bucket-load of alcohol. It was a sergeant who attended, so I guess things must have been pretty busy for police that day. The policeman engaged the lady with purpose but with the tenderness of a son dealing with a beloved Mum. As he helped her to her feet, she grabbed him on a part of his body that guaranteed maximum pain. She refused to release her grip and you’d have to forgive the man if he’d have put her on the ground as he could have easily done. In spite of the pain he was enduring, the policeman continued to smile and offer comforting words. After a few minutes, she released her grip as he made it clear he hadn’t come to lock her up but was interested in finding a better place for her. How often do you hear police commended for costly kindness? I can tell you that many times over this past thirteen years, I’ve witnessed such kindness on the part of police. There is sometimes a cop around who has seen too many American movies, but on the whole, certainly in Kings Cross, we have every reason to be proud of the police.
Earlier today a frail old man who had become disoriented through years of sleeping in bus stops and in parks, had reached a point where we had to organise medical treatment, whether the man liked the idea or not. Our John, the gentlest man in the world with the softest heart, did his best to assure the man that medical help would make him more comfortable. In reality, the lack of medical care would kill him in short order. The man resisted to the point where he threatened to strangle John with the telephone cord. Worse than this, he accused the kindest man in the world of every cruelty he could express. Most people would let it roll over and off them, but such things lodge in John’s...[read more]
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