Dear Inner Circle,

“Would it be corrupt if I gave one of your staff a present?” It’s a funny opening line to a conversation, but just now I spoke with a big tall man whose face beamed like he was four years old and just found out that it was Christmas morning. He explained to me that our Pathways Officer, Mandy, has patiently walked alongside him for some time now and as a result, he starts a full-time paying job next week. He will be a traffic controller and he’s on top of the world because it’s a job he feels confident to do and he loves to think he could do something that will assist to keep the traveling public safe. I’ll bet anything that just one look into this beaming face is all the thanks Mandy would ever need, and I was delighted this morning to bask in her reflected glory.

Another beautiful face that captured me this week belonged to a long-time member of this inner circle. Listening to this voice and beholding this spirit, delivered in the accent and colloquial of her original culture, held me spellbound and eventually left me with something I couldn’t name. I guess the something was, presence. She described one moment of growth by saying, “I didn’t even know I was in a birth canal but nevertheless, I got pushed out of a comfortable darkness into an unknown, impossibly difficult and challenging space that was, ‘life’”. At one stage this person said of me that, “I was the pea on the end of a fork.” I have not the remotest idea what that expression might mean but I hope it’s good. Like all moments of revelation, I wished it could have lasted longer. Thankfully, I learned years ago that the more you try to hang onto such beauty, the quicker it evaporates.

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Dear Inner Circle,

In the café yesterday I saw a young fellow, who had cooked his brain, walk around aimlessly picking up items that clearly didn’t belong to him. It didn’t look like his intention was to steal but rather it looked like he had no idea what he was picking up or why. Eventually, someone noticed that their coat was in the possession of this kid who seemed to be laying it out on a table as if to iron it perhaps. Naturally, all hell broke loose. Our staff were on it quickly but it provided a genuinely distressing few moments. I was sitting with a bloke who I’d not seen in some time but our conversation had to end in such an anxious atmosphere. Everything settled and the bloke next to me said, “I love Wayside because you get dinner and a show”.

Rarely am I in a state of shock but the revelations from the church about sexual crimes against children have caught me off balance. The world that I knew changed this week as it was revealed by the church that up to 40% of people in one religious Order could be considered to be predators. In other religious Orders the estimate was 20%. I just can’t seem to regain my balance. I’ve been inclined to defend the church because I’ve known hundreds of nuns and priests who have served humanity with their whole selves, embodying all that is finest and inspiring in their roles of teachers, philosophers, social workers and chaplains. I have two academic degrees from Catholic institutions and I will be forever grateful for the depth of love and the incalculable gift of philosophy, theology and history poured into me by masters in their fields.

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Dear Inner Circle,

A couple came to see me a few months ago. They’d had a stable marriage and seemed to have found a way to work together, maximizing the opportunities life offered and building a successful life. A sudden revelation brought all of this crashing to the ground in the speed of a text message. I’ll never forget the look on their faces in my office as each one looked at the other as if they were alien. I think the problem was that the two had become one. They seemed to know each other so well that each was utterly predictable to the other. Each could count on the other and there was little, if any, mystery. Oh, the joy of not knowing. Oh, the misery of knowing someone so well that they become invisible. They saw me again this week. Again, the look on their faces rendered me speechless. The change is hard to explain. Wonder and not knowing had returned. They each looked at the other as if waiting for a revelation. I asked how they could explain this turnaround; half-hoping I might have said something wise that might have helped. They told me that the only real change they could observe is that they no longer let the television run in the evenings, and at an agreed time, they turn their phones off. For months now, they listen to the news and then for the rest of the evening they talk to one another. This week, neither one offered me any observations to help me understand the other. The only pronouns they used were, “We, us and our”. Talking is a miracle. By talking they had discovered that there was much they didn’t know about the other and each was relieved of the burden of being the “smart” one in the relationship. I could barely believe I was talking with the same couple. Stability is not always a sign of health or life. Many years ago, I did a placement at a psychiatric hospital and I almost worshipped my supervising psychiatrist. In those days, the prevailing language in that world was Freudian and I lapped it up. At the end of the...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

That we live in such a peaceful, prosperous part of the world is the achievement of very few of us. Most should leave some space today to thank someone else for such good fortune. Today I offer my thanks to a young bloke, starving in the potato famine in the county of Tipperary, Ireland. James Long’s father was an alcoholic, which must have added a level of misery to what was already an unbearable situation. The young James made a drunken goose of himself once at a funeral and decided from that moment on that he would never drink again, and he never did. Rumours of the gold fields in Australia must have sounded like a fairy tale to this poor Irishman at the bottom of his social ladder. All around London at the time there were signs on boarding houses that said, “No Irish”. Any chance for a life out of starvation must have seemed to be worth a shot, even if that meant a boat trip that would take months, to a destination far away from everything he knew and with little or no prospect of return. From this desperate situation and from this radical decision, much of the “luck” of my life was set in place.

James arrived in Ballarat, Victoria, and discovered many things about this strange place. He found just enough gold to start a small business making cakes and confectionary for miners. In due course James Long Confectionary employed 140 people with factories and offices in Perth and also New Zealand. The alcoholic father got news of his son’s success and decided he too would make the journey to this country. One day in a pub near Ballarat, after drinking all day, he rode his horse to the edge of town and fell to his death. The local paper wrote a story that marvelled that he had managed to ride as far as the edge of town at all. The business of James Long eventually became the Sunshine Biscuit Factory and James died one of Victoria’s wealthiest citizens. What a pity none of that wealth got passed down through the family! Funnily...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

It’s happening! The outpouring of goodwill melts our battle-weary hearts. Young children come through our front door having bought a present to be given to some other child who has less. People stream through the front door with offers of help – undies, socks and razors in the hands of loving people who’ve been saving up in order to make a practical difference for those doing it tough – donations of food for our street party on Christmas Day flood into the place – companies ring and ask what quantities of prawns or other goods we require – we just say a number and it arrives here by truck – no charge. Volunteers overwhelm us with more offers of help than we can possibly use. It’s impossible to witness the sheer volume of goodwill without being moved and inspired.

While most wind down for Christmas, we wind up. Yesterday there must have been a couple of hundred people in our building at various levels, engaged in community celebrations or end of year functions. As I walked into one of the functions an Aboriginal man embraced me and said with tone I’d not heard in his gravelly voice before, “My family is here”. Suddenly I noticed that there were quite a few younger people and a handful of young children in the room. With every passing second, the look on the old man’s face glowed with intensity and pride. I complemented him on having such a fine collection of young children that clearly reverenced him as a relative and senior person in the family and a big singular tear ran down his lovely face. It’s a rough time of year for many but at the same time and without denying any of the toughness, there is a wave of well-wishing that gathers up many to lift and inspire.

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Dear Inner Circle,

Yesterday, a lovely young woman approached me and, with some embarrassment, passed me a note. The note said that she had wanted to say “hello” to me all year but that every time I came close, her anxiety levels went through the roof, leaving her paralysed and feeling rather silly. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her that her note meant more to me than if she had given me a bag full of cash. We made our first resolution for 2017. Every time we see each other, we’ll take a second to step into each other’s face, and say, “Hi”.

The most surprising thing about this time of year is that it actually surprises me. This past week or so has been as tough as we ever see it. For people who are lonely and struggling with demons, the Christmas season is the hardest time of the year. It’s a season of screaming. It's the season of overdose and psychosis. It’s bizarre because it comes in the context of well-wishing and exchanging of gifts. Raised voices have been a constant accompaniment to life at Wayside this week. I’ve seen fist fights. I’ve seen arguments between a person and a power pole. I’ve seen someone trying to make love to a tree. I know I’m a Christian minister and that I ought to be towing the company line at this time of year but honestly, I could do without all the heartache.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

Walking out of the building late this week, a young bloke yelled out, “Where you off to now Rev?” Feeling a bit overloaded, I yelled, “I’m off to drown my sorrows in alcohol!” “Aww good plan Rev,” he said. I turned back and said, “Seriously, I’m just off to another meeting.” He said, “Seriously, the first plan is better!”

Gold beyond calculation is deposited in the people on the Wayside team. The unromantic work of sitting alongside people in their worst moment is the kind of thing that most people would engage in perhaps just a few times in their life. But it is a part of our every day, every hour, every moment. Working at Wayside isn’t for everyone but we can be thankful for the living treasures that do work here on behalf of everyone. As we approach the end of another year, my voice chokes and my fingers stop over the keyboard as I ponder the unmeasurable kindness delivered in countless small acts. The staff and volunteers in our café and on the front desk. Angels all. Our staff and volunteers in the Aboriginal community who will be marching this weekend as their hearts burn about the issue of black deaths in custody. I’m in awe. The Twilight team who have turned our most difficult times into our most effective. Amazing. The people who work in our mental health program; so careful, so sensitive, so purposeful. Our ‘pathways’ people who achieve miracles in helping people’s feet to move. Our facilities team in the never ending job of cleaning and maintenance; some of these folks are human wonders who have stepped out of the deepest hole to find their way to proper employment. For those who have pioneered new services at Bondi, including those working in a cutting-edge way on physical health issues such as exercise and diet. You should be the talk of the health system as you show how effective healthcare can be delivered from the footpath. Our youth workers who walk the street at night and intervene to get...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

A face that could melt any heart met me at Wayside this morning. I love this bloke. I could take him home. Many times over the years we’ve found accommodation for him but his mental health occasionally causes uproar that sees him on the streets again. The last time we met, he raved about the kindness of those who ran the aged care facility in which he was placed. Today’s news however is that he is sleeping at Central Station. An outburst last week caused staff to draw a line that excluded him. His outlook is positive already and we clinked our coffee cups to toast four years since he drank any alcohol. We clinked our cups again and toasted 11 years since he’s been to jail. We clinked our cups one more time when he said, in spite of this recent set back, he didn’t self-harm. His arms show evidence of many hundreds of scars and it’s clear today at least, that he’s not bashing himself up for his failures which is a wonderful and significant achievement. I’m cheering for him.

In the café this morning a young person looked across from the other side of the room in a way that made me think they were aching to say something. I acknowledged the face which responded with a beam. “I’m off to work,” the young woman said. “I didn’t know you had employment,” I said. It suddenly became rather obvious that she was wearing a Woolworths shirt with prominent logo. “I just started. Our Pathways Worker Mandy got the job for me.” I said, “I bet she lined up the right things and then you got the job for yourself”. “Yeah,” she said with a sudden look of shyness. She told me that it wasn’t just about money but that she felt like a productive member of the community because of her job. “Do you stack shelves?” I asked. “No,” she said, “I’m a product replenishment officer… so I suppose the answer is ‘yes’ but I like the way I say it better than the way you say it.” “Any way you say it,” I said, “I...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

None of us ever, “arrive”. Life is fluid and we either grow or diminish. Our lives are either opening up or closing down. At Wayside, we recognise a life closing down when the driving question is, “What can you give me?” There is a closely related question, “How much can I get for the least?” and you don’t have to be homeless to be driven by that question. At times for all of us, life is closing down, small things seem to loom large while important issues become invisible. At times, hopefully for all of us, our lives open up. It’s always a surprise and eventually a delight. At Wayside, we can’t make anyone suddenly want to live. The best we can do is to be awake so that we see what we’ve been looking at all day. We have no secret and we are suspicious of all who claim simple answers or any kind of magic. We know however that when a life begins to open up, the driving question shifts to become, “How can I help?” One of the special honours about working at Wayside is the number of people we meet, some rough sleepers, some volunteers, some staff, some donors, who all come to us asking the question, “How can I help?”

One of our staff members told me how he’d been through a chapter of his life where small things were beginning to dominate his thinking and life. I first met this bloke as a rough sleeper. He’s a big bloke and when he was in the grip of alcohol, he was one of our more dangerous visitors. We’ve travelled together for a few years now and we’ve witnessed both amazing growth and, from time to time, a relapse into old habits. He’s doing so well; he’s doing a fantastic job and living in his precious little unit near Wayside. Recently he told me of growing tension with a neighbour. His neighbour objected to his use of his small BBQ on his balcony. Tension has been building and complaints have been made. Recently, every time he cooks, his neighbour has been taking photos and videos as evidence of the...[read more]