It's hard to believe it's almost quarter-past 2013 -- and harder still to believe it's spring, with snow penning in my mother-in-law in Toronto and the weather here (at least, this past Wednesday, as I started to write this) reminding one of the Two Ronnies gag: "today's weather will be hot in Stott, cool in Goule, choking in Woking ... and those living in Lissing Down are advised to carry an umbrella." And for those coming into The Lord's Rain, the hot showers and/or coffee have been a relief and a blessing.
It was similarly awful weather a couple of weeks ago, when I accompanied Frank to OnSite. OnSite is the cousin of InSite, the "safe" drug-injection facility on the Downtown East Side, where nurses keep vigil over people as they shoot up their drug(s) of choice. If someone feels they finally want to take a crack (pun intended) at kicking the habit, they can go across the foyer to OnSite, to see if they have any beds available. Frank has been trying to beat his addiction for years, so this was his latest attempt. I offered to walk there with him and give him moral support. It was 8:30 when we talked and OnSite didn't open until 10, so I told Frank I'd meet him at The Lord's Rain at quarter-to and we'd walk up together. I had a twofold reason: supporting Frank, also to see what was inside the place. As I've expressed before, I'm skeptical of the "harm-reduction" approach, so even a cursory look would be instructive.
It was a good sign when Frank came back to The Lord's Rain at 9:30 -- he was serious. We walked up and stood in line: other addicts, waiting to get their hit. A couple of them started banging on the window around 9:58 (the slight peevishness shown when the coffee isn't quite ready at The Lord's Rain is positively virtuous patience by comparison) and when the door finally opened, they all surged through and were directed to a door leading to the injection rooms. When Frank said he wanted to go to OnSite, he was sent to another counter. Two people ahead of him were told to "come back tomorrow," which was not a good sign; Frank went up and was told the same. I hazarded a question. "What treatment method do you use here?" "Oh, a number of things," was the reply, "like acupuncture, meditation, whatever the client thinks will work." "Does anyone help them make that decision?" "Oh, yes: we have counsellors here."
I didn't ask anything more, because I was afraid they might think I was spying and that might have affected Frank's situation, so I just nodded and Frank and I left. We agreed to meet there the next day, just before 10.
Frank was there before I was and this time I stayed outside while he went in. There was a curtain over the window looking into the OnSite reception area, but I found an opening and peered through. It gave me a good view of the front desk and I saw Frank wait in line, then step up. A few words were exchanged, and then he turned away and went to a different part of the building and through a door. Had he gotten lucky? I waited another 10 minutes as the rain intensified. A guy standing next to the door was calling out, "jib-jib-jib!" -- "jib" is the street term for crystal meth, and I couldn't tell whether he was selling or looking to buy. Finally, when Frank didn't come out, I squelched away, figuring he had gotten in.
That was Thursday. The following Tuesday, Frank was back at The Lord's Rain. "What happened?" I asked. "They said, 'come back tomorrow'." "Did you?" "No." He didn't explain where he went when he went through that other door.
I haven't seen Frank since. It strikes me that that particular facility is built on the premise that drug addicts have freedom of choice: that they can choose to come off the stuff, and until they do, the "clean" shooting gallery will keep them alive. Then, when they make that decision that enough's enough, there's a facility to help them. On top of that, the treatment facility gives them a choice as to how to be treated.
But doesn't being an addict, by definition, mean that they've surrendered freedom of choice? Anchor House, a treatment facility I visited in Brooklyn in 2007, recognizes that, and the house rules are strict. Pastor Roger Jamison took me around the residential portion. In one room, one of the beds wasn't properly made. "This room is a freakin' mess!" he growled at the man sitting at a desk, reading a Bible. "Get this place cleaned up!" The man jumped-to, right away. In another, there was some artwork on the walls that might best be described as bizarre. "What do you make of that?" Roger asked. "Demonic," I said. I'm not one to look for a demon behind every bush (largely because if you do that, you could miss the ram in the bush), but there was little mistaking it in this case. Roger got on his walkie-talkie. "Can you tell (so-and-so) I want to see him in my office?" Roger extends tough love -- and discipline the residents never had while growing up. The Anchor House premise is that people can get well and don't have to be consigned forever to the life of the addict, but they have no freedom of choice at that point. Eventually, though, as they recover, they get back their freedom of choice, along with their families and their lives. (By the way, the nightly Word-and-Worship service ROCKS!)
Do I believe addicts should be forced into recovery? I'm not so sure. Part of me still feels that it has to begin with the person wanting to break out of that existence, and that we have to be ready to support him or her not just with treatment plans but with prayer and encouragement so they know that a better life is not only desirable, it's possible.
(How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb? Just one - but the light bulb has to truly want to change!)
But the Anchor House experience makes me wonder. As I recall, Anchor House residents are generally people who've been arrested for crimes and are given the choice of the program or jail. Hobson's Choice, really.
What I do know is, we as a society can do a whole lot better at helping people who have crashed and burned -- like those on the DTES -- to regain their lives; and I don't think you accomplish that by surrounding them of ways of making the cycle easier -- or "safer". I believe that removes the hope that they can ever be anything but drug addicts. Mind you, if enough people step up to the plate and instill hope in these individuals, you could have a safe injection site on every corner and they'd all be empty.
Selah.
As for Frank, it's hard to say: he may turn up again; he may try to get into Union Gospel's program. He's been beaten up so much by his addiction -- not to mention his family and himself -- who knows how many more knocks he can take?
***
We've been watching others going through their struggles to get clean and free. Michael is planning to go to Day-tox -- another program aimed at helping people get off their substances. Mike's is mainly alcohol, and at age 41, he has an inflamed pancreas and liver trouble -- and some other symptoms he described to me the other day sound a lot like what I went through when my gall bladder finally said no mas! to the fat and salt I'd been loading-up. He suffered a broken collarbone a while back, and the doctors decided not to repair it surgically: they feel that, because he's an alcoholic, there's too much danger that he could fall, re-break the bone, and get an infection. It's not the first time I've heard of that medical decision, but for Mike, it means constant pain and a bone that sticks up crazily beside his shoulder.
However, it was also a wake-up call to get serious about recovery. He's also looking into Wagner Hills Farm, which is a Scripture-based recovery program in the Fraser Valley. Stay tuned, and keep him in prayer, as well.
Marty is someone else trying to reclaim his life. He was suspended from his job as a teacher for drug use, and a number of other life challenges also took their toll. It's hard to say how well he has the habit under control now, but he's still determined to turn things around. "I thought I could do construction," he told me the other day, "but I'm way outta shape and that's a young man's job. But teaching is what I love." He's putting out feelers to teach ESL or adult literacy around the DTES. We've seen him quite ill, and we've seen him at his best: through it all, he does have a ready laugh (some of my more obscure one-liners in my sermons might go over everyone else's heads, but I can always count on Marty to crack up). We pull for everyone who comes into The Lord's Rain, but one can't help but have extra-high hopes for Marty.
And then there's Herbie. Bad knees -- and painkillers -- pretty much shot down his career as a plumber, but over the past year and a half, he's been working hard at building his academic credits. He's setting his sights on social work, and has been learning a lot just by volunteering at The Lord's Rain. Tuesday morning, I gave him directions on how to take SkyTrain to Douglas College in New Westminster, so he could personally hand in his application for courses. He still has to line up grants and scholarships through the various options available on the DTES, but he is a wonderful example of dogged determination and I have no doubt he'll succeed.
The trick is to shut out the voices that say, "you can't" -- and sadly, there are plenty of those around the DTES, physical voices as well as endless yammering in one's own head. People can learn from the example of a fellow I heard from this morning. Stu (not his real name) has quite a testimony, which includes a "turnaround encounter" with Jesus Christ, just as he was about to take that Final Step off the Lion's Gate Bridge several years ago. A couple of workplace injuries left him in a great deal of pain and hobbling around, but he was determined to be useful. But there were those voices -- "you can't" -- and finally, Stu simply separated himself from the area. Now, he's been building up a small business doing renovations and installations, and his past is exactly where it belongs: passed.
My former employers at the BC Electric Railway Company unveiled a strategic plan just over a year ago, called "Moving Forward": a detailed description of the improvements needed to the region's integrated transportation system. It also -- and this is the really important part -- counted the cost. I think about that expression when I think of the guys around The Lord's Rain who are so determined to bust out of the cycle of poverty and addiction -- especially the part about counting the cost. In many ways, the "cost" involves pushing through pain and frustration, and also giving up that notion of free will, at least until they're free enough to have a will.
***
I've mentioned this before: there is an amazing amount of creative talent on the Downtown East Side. A fellow named Dale astonished us one night with his guitar-playing. We had a guest worship leader who sang and played the guitar. After the service, Dale came up and shyly asked if he could try the guitar. Sure, she said. We continued cleaning up, and suddenly, there came the familiar riffs from "Taking Care of Business". Dale, it turned out, was a brilliant rock guitarist, and for a few more weeks, our cleanup time was accompanied by his playing. He never played outside that very private situation. We contemplated getting him a guitar, but because he was homeless and his shopping cart would often get stolen, we figured that wouldn't be a good idea.
(Dale was one of the inspirations for The Lord's Rain. Before just about every service, he would make a bee-line for the laundry tubs at the back of the Mission and wash himself, drying his hair with a dish cloth. Ironically, he has never taken a shower at The Lord's Rain.)
But there are also many brilliant artists -- many of them Native, who draw and paint wonderful images and scenes. So over the next few weeks, we're hoping to tap that talent with a contest: design a logo for The Lord's Rain. This is Pastor Janet's brainchild, and the submission deadline is April 30 -- the 5th anniversary of the opening of The Lord's Rain. A panel of judges will choose the winner, and the winning design will go on letterhead and signage and anything else appropriate. Some great sponsors have donated prizes, too: a home-made birdhouse, courtesy Janet's uncle, a gift certificate to Army and Navy, and a prize pack from the Vancouver Canadians baseball club.
By the way, if you'd like to see some examples of this creative talent, check out www.indianartfromtheedge.com -- it's a project by Marylee Stephenson, specifically to promote and sell work by DTES aboriginal artists, many of whom we know personally at The Lord's Rain. I've always thought their work was undervalued, and now, someone is taking steps to fix that.
