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A Homeless Vet’s Journey: Week 5

To hear the audio introduction to A Homeless Vet’s Journey, click the play button below:

We drove downtown and found the location of the Embassy. We were given a piece of paper with instructions on how to obtain a baptismal certificate.

With all the fandangling and hoops that we have had to negotiate, it was a sure relief to at last find something straight forward and simple!

Here are the instructions from the Embassy: “For a copy of your <Europian> birth certificate please contact the church where your birth was registered. If you do not have that information, please contact the Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs in <Europe>. Make sure to include all the information you have about your birth.”

Finally! Some concrete help!

Kurk could not remember the town or parish where he was baptised, so we called the telephone number listed on the helpful sheet of paper from the Embassy in Ottawa.

The first number, the one listed, did not help. They redirected to another number.

(Note 1: It is a six hour time delay between Canada and <Europe>

Note 2: It appears that the parish offices are operational only for a few hours a few days of the week.

Note 3: Surprise! <Europe> parishes and offices speak <Europian>! ALL answering machines in <Europian> only).

This number, when I finally got through, directed me to another number. When I found someone who actually spoke enough English to give me some help, he just said, “No.”

I thought that he did not understand my request, so I politely reworded. Again, he said, “No.”

Hard to believe. I tried a third time to explain the dilemma that Kurk could not acquire any monies until he had two sources of identification, one of which was the birth certificate in question, and once again said, “No,” and promptly hung up the telephone.

Another number and, of course, I was redirected to yet another number, where finally we found the parish where Kurk was baptised, and after listening to our request, they informed me that they would send an email with the copy of the Birth Certificate, to the Embassy in downtown Ottawa.

Eight weeks later, we are still waiting…

Ken MacLaren, Executive Director

Comment: The ‘waiting’ part – let’s consider that for a moment. Waiting for Kurk is very UNlike any waiting that most of us have done. Kurk is now living ‘in the rough’, on the streets, sleeping in doorways out of the wind (when possible) – and he is 70! He moves during the day from program to program – all the while he is eligible for money that is his due. Not welfare or Ontario Disability, but Canada Pension, Old Age Pension, and superannuation – all of which he has earned and every right to! The clock ticks on…

Would you consider making a special Christmas gift to help us with our Street Outreach program? We are there seven days a week, connecting with those in need. Thanks for your support!

 

(Kurk’s Journey is a 10-Part Series.  Stay tuned for Part 5)

 

A Homeless Vet’s Journey: Week 2

To hear the audio introduction to A Homeless Vet’s Journey – Week 2, click play below:

Taking Kurk aside, I asked him about the money that the government owed him. He told me that he was owed money from Canada Pension, Old Age Pension and Superannuation.  He said that they had frozen his bank account and he was not receiving any money, and in fact, had not received any money for over two months.

I was not sure how to proceed with this, so I picked up my phone and called my friend, Ron Petersen from McMillan LLP, and passed the phone to Kurk. After 40 minutes Kurk returned the phone to me, and Ron told me that Kurk did not need a lawyer, but suggested he might get some help from Catherine McKenna, Member of Parliament for Ottawa Centre. I phoned McKenna’s office immediately.

Monica, from Catherine McKenna’s office was more than helpful as she listened to Kurk’s story and offered to help. We set up an appointment and started the process of Kurk’s claim.

Kurk had lost all of his identification in a fire in 2013. All of it!  He never had the where-with-all to have it replaced, for any number of reasons: capacity, money (it costs to replace identity), and support.

He was staying at the Salvation Army shelter. His bank account, where once he had been receiving direct deposits from Canada Pension Plan had been frozen. I eventually found out why: Kurk had tried to access his account on a number of occasions from different ATMs to see if his money had been deposited. Each inquiry cost $3.  So, because he had a negative balance of $21 ( seven inquiries at $3 each), his account was suspended/frozen, and the deposits stopped.

Ken MacLaren, Executive Director

Imagine if this had happened to you, what do you think you would do?

What would you do if your were in Kurk’s position? A homeless veteran with absolutely no support, and no resources.

Please leave us a comment below. 

(Kurk’s Journey is a 10-Part Series.  Stay tuned for Part 3)

 

 

Staff Perspectives: What Our Street Community Has Taught Me

Hi, my name is Gabriela. In March, I joined the OIM team as the new Administrative Assistant.

I’m originally from El Salvador and I moved to Canada last year. When you come from a country like mine (a beautiful country but with many problems, including widespread poverty and homelessness) it’s hard to think that a country like Canada still faces homelessness.

But, unfortunately, it does.

Before working with the street-engaged community through OIM, I didn’t give much thought to why someone ends up homeless. Even just walking downtown, where you see homelessness staring you in the face, you can become numb to the situation. You see it everyday. So, without even bothering to look at a homeless person, you simply walk by.

That’s why I am grateful to be working at OIM.

My time with this ministry has been an enriching experience in so many ways. My perception about homelessness has changed, I have learned so much from our street friends. I have learnt how empathy can change things even if it’s not always easy to imagine what it’s like to walk in another person’s shoes. At times, it’s just easier to judge or to assume that if someone is in that situation (homeless) it must be because of their life choices. But, it’s more than that. Much more.

And I’ve also learned about the strength of character that resides in each person who visits us at the office.

Every week our street friend ‘Rob’ comes to the Stop-In at our office. He is constantly struggling with mental health issues and feels overwhelmed and negative towards life. But what surprises me about him is that even in his toughest week he never forgets to ask me how I am doing and how my week is going.

Being at OIM has definitely been a one-of-a-kind experience. I have learnt to never underestimate what a small act of kindness can do; you don’t need to do extraordinary things to help others. Often something as simple as having the time to listen or share with someone is enough.

It is in conversations with individuals like ‘Rob’ that I have learned to become more caring, understanding and patient.

That’s what our street friends teach me, each and every day.

What if it was you?

Valentines Day Week – just passed. Kudos to all of our volunteer outreach workers in all capacities: street outreach, drop in, office drop in, prayer partners, donors, those who cook for our event dinners, the ones that donate sleeping bags and all kinds of other goodies that we use as tools to make connections with those who live and breathe on the streets of our city.

Sometimes, just sometimes, our street outreach volunteers might walk their routes in minus 30 degrees, and come back feeling somewhat disappointed because on this cold night, they only saw a couple of street friends. Then the thoughts come, “I wonder if I am making all that much difference anyhow. It doesn’t feel like it tonight at least.”

Stop. Pause.

What if it was you?

You on the streets, maybe even on that one cold night when no one much pays you any attention really, and you feel invisible, forgotten, neglected, and abandoned. Then the recurring thoughts from your past come: thoughts of ‘no good’, you’ll never amount to anything, you are not really worth the effort…

Then an outreach worker shows up with a sandwich, a juice box, but more importantly, a smile, an inquiry about your week, a reminder of something that you said last week or time when you last connected, and some random (or planned) word of encouragement that really lifted your spirits…

How would that make you feel?

For the one’s and two’s and groups on the streets, and the teams of two or three volunteers walking and watching-  add these together and you have two: one, a great deal of difference in someone(s) life; and two, ‘everything’ (and all that entails) to our those who call the streets their home.

A small thing for us maybe, but what if it was ‘you?’ I know it would mean a lot to me.

Ken MacLaren

Imagine A World With More HOPE

george frederick watts hope paintings

This is George Frederic Watts 1886 painting, “Hope.” Hope is sitting on a globe, blindfolded, clutching a wooden lyre with only one string left intact. She sits in a hunched position, with her head leaning towards the instrument, perhaps so she can hear the faint music she can make with the sole remaining string.

This painting,  inspired a scene from a (1922 film) of the same name and it is thought by some that it had an influence on Picasso’s early ‘Blue Period’ paintings.

Nelson Mandella reportedly had a print of the painting on the wall of his prison cell on Robben Island..

After Egypt was defeated by Israel during the Six-Day War, the Egyptian government issued copies of this painting to its troops.

The painting was the subject of a lecture by Dr Frederick G. Sampson in Richmond, Virginia, in the late 1980s, who described it as a study in contradictions. The lecture was attended by Jeremiah Wright and inspired him to give a sermon in 1990 on the subject of Hope. He said:

…with her clothes in rags, her body scarred and bruised and bleeding, her harp all but destroyed and with only one string left, she had the audacity to make music and praise God … To take the one string you have left and to have the audacity to hope … that’s the real word God will have us hear from this passage and from Watt’s painting.

Barack Obama attended this sermon, and later adopted the phrase “audacity of hope” as the title for his 2004 Democratic National Convention keynote address as well as the title of his second book. Obama’s speech instantly catapulted him to a national stage, both as a star within the Democratic party and set the stage for the day that he would become president.

Imagine a World with more Hope.

Rom 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in your faith, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may overflow with hope.

Ken MacLaren

 

 

 

Danielle’s Story: Episode 3 – A repose in the midst of trouble

“Danielle’s Story” is a series running throughout December.
To listen to the audio backgrounder from Family Radio CHRI, click the play button below. Follow along all month to hear this amazing story!

As soon as I turned 16, my friend’s mother invited me to live with them. It was a very emotional experience finally escaping my family once and for all.

It was a highlight of my life.

I remember laying down in the small bedroom that they let me stay in. They painted a nice cloud on the ceiling and they all were so very sweet.

At the same time, I was worried about how they might treat me. I had these panic attacks, with my heart racing and feeling like I was about to die.

I was confused emotionally, and scared, I guess.

My friends mom was very structured. She taught me about doing chores: doing dishes, laundry and all that. She never yelled at me, included me in the trips to the cottage, included me in all their family activities, helping in the garden.

They noticed that I was struggling with my homework, so they sat down with me at the table and helped me focus. I just wanted to write stories, but they helped me get through school.

 Living with my friend proved to be the safest time in my life that I have ever felt. My grades went from D’s to A’s. 

Stay tuned to Family Radio CHRI as two episodes unfold each week following the 8 o’clock morning and 5 o’clock evening news. As you prepare for Christmas with your family remember there are kids who are all alone.

Why not let them know that they are NOT alone?

Please give consideration with your family to adding just one more person to your Christmas list and sponsoring one of the youth in our program for only $30 /month?

Click “Donate Now” and make a lasting difference in the life of someone who just never had a chance before, just like Danielle.

Danielle’s Story: Episode 1 – Early Life

“Danielle’s Story” is a series running throughout December.
To listen to the audio backgrounder from Family Radio CHRI, click the play button below. Follow along all month to hear this amazing story!

Hi my name is Danielle. This Christmas, I’d like to share my story with you- not to make you feel sorry for me, but because, I strongly believe stories help bring communities closer together. They teach us powerful lessons. They help us grow. They teach us to be thankful. I am so very thankful for all that God has given to me through OIM and people in our  community who really want to help others. Stayed tuned to Family Radio CHRI to hear my story after the 8 AM and 5 o’clock evening news. Here is my story as I told Ken.

My father had been disowned by his parents; my mom lived in a group home and suffered from mental health issues. After my mom became pregnant with me while staying at the group home, she left the province and cut all ties with my birth dad. I never met him as a child. He tried to make contact,  but my mom would not allow it. When I asked my mom about my dad, she never told me the truth, she changed the stories all the time. She told me she didn’t know where he was, but I found out later, she knew where he was all the time.  I remember as a young child asking God to please help me find my father. But I never found him.

 My step dad came into the picture when we moved to a different province, and they had a child together. I had friends that wouldn’t talk to me because my mom would tell them untrue things about me.

 It was also around then, I noticed my mother was acting very strange – she and my step dad fought constantly and she’d throw things at my stepfather. He was using drugs and alcohol regularly, and when my sister was born, she had developmental and speech delays that really affected her.  

 When my brother was born, he had even more learning disabilities. They beat him with a belt, threw him down the stairs, yelled in his ear – he can’t hear properly even now.  He hurt his sister with his metal toy car, and my step dad took the metal toy car and hit him with it on the head.

 At the  time, I wished my siblings had never been born. I think my parents stopped loving me.

 

Stay tuned to Family Radio CHRI as two episodes unfold each week following the 8 o’clock morning and 5 o’clock evening news. As you prepare for Christmas with your family remember there are kids who are all alone.

Why not let them know that they are NOT alone?

Please give consideration with your family to adding just one more person to your Christmas list and sponsoring one of the youth in our program for only $30 /month?

Click “Donate Now” and make a lasting difference in the life of someone who just never had a chance before, just like Danielle.

 

Shane’s Story, Episode 5: My Own Place

Shane’s Story is a eight episode blog post where Shane tells her story in her own words.  Each week in December, on Mondays and Thursdays at 8 a.m. you can click on both the radio spot and then read the Episode of this special gal’s story. Tweet it to your friends – it gets better as we get closer to Christmas, and Shane’s special Christmas wish to each of you. Hold tight! it is going to be a great ride! Merry Christmas!”

Listen to a part of her story by clicking the ‘play’ button below, then read the rest of her story in this post:

I got my place last spring.

housing 2

The door of Shane’s room the day she moved in. Notice the hole where the door handle should be.

I met this kid panhandling and he lived in the building. I told him I really needed a place. I told him I had a dog and really need somewhere safe and warm to keep him. He told me there was a room available in his rooming house. It was beside his room, and the place was really disgusting.  It was really gross. It’s a building full of bachelors, of addicts and dealers but that’s what you get. There were spiders, cockroaches, bedbugs – but there’s no house centipedes though, and I’m pretty happy about that. None! The room though was an absolute pigsty. There was grime to the point that I had to scrape it off with a knife. There was something that kept coming up off the tile that was really gooey and sticky. Really sticky. You had to scrub it off with hot water.  I don’t know what I was cleaning up there, but it was pretty bad. Once I got it tolerable, I put my stuff in there. It took like two weeks to get it at least decent. That’s like without cleaning the walls or without cleaning the window, or checking under the bed box to see what garbage is under there. I still don’t know. It’s a secret (laughter). The underneath of my bed – I don’t want to know. (laughter)

It’s weird sharing a shower and a toilet with like 20 other people. They pee all over the floor. I have to wear my shoes into the toilet, you have to take toilet paper with you and bring it back with you.

housing1

The floor of Shane’s room.

I’m paying $470 for a tiny little infested room that’s not even up to code. Like one of my windows is not really a window – it’s a board with a nail holding it in place. I had to make my own ‘fixes’ – they wouldn’t put caulking under the box for my bed and the bugs were crawling in and out of there. ‘No, don’t do that to me. I don’t want bugs near my bed’, so I finally got some white duct tape and taped it. They (landlords) don’t really do much.

Bedbugs? Oh yea. Landlord only sprays one room at a time, so each time the landlord sprays one room, the bedbugs that survive just over to the next person’s room. He sprays that room and they crawl upstairs to where it’s safe. They just keep going. We just push them around really. I’m waiting for the time they push them back into my room, ‘cause I’m highly allergic. My face will swell and it’s bad. I had to go to the doctor a couple of times, and get hard core allergy medication.

They’re not in my room now. I had to go out and buy powder that’s safe for animals. I put that on the floor around my bed, and if they come in, they’re dead.

You brush it into the baseboards, and if they try to get in there and hide, they die. It’s pretty bug proof.  Cockroaches though, I don’t know how to get rid of them. They just keep comin’. From my dresser too- I don’t know why ‘cause in there there’s only clean clothes. They’re not in my pantry though. Not even a nuclear bomb will kill them.

bed bugs

A swollen bed bug bite on Shane’s arm.

Shane’s Story, Episode 3: On My Own

Shane’s Story is a eight episode blog post where Shane tells her story in her own words.  Each week in December, on Mondays and Thursdays at 8 a.m. you can click on both the radio spot and then read the Episode of this special gal’s story. Tweet it to your friends – it gets better as we get closer to Christmas, and Shane’s special Christmas wish to each of you. Hold tight! it is going to be a great ride! Merry Christmas!”

Click the play button to hear a part of her story, then read the rest below:

When I was 16 I left the foster home. For a little bit I went back home, test the waters thinking that maybe, maybe it will be better this time. Maybe they will actually take me seriously, but uh, nope. I ended up getting kicked out.  I guess I kind of exploded after a bit…

Drugs started pretty young, I think 14. Someone asked me if I wanted to smoke some grass. I said don’t be stupid you don’t smoke grass, but then he explained it and that was my first time.

It was really weird the first time, it wasn’t very pleasant. But I kept doing it. It was ok. Then my friends introduced me to a boy – I  kinda ended up dating him for awhile and almost got pregnant. He would steal beer from his Dad because his Dad was an alcoholic, so we all started drinking. He couldn’t even keep track of how many beers he had. He would buy like 3 or 4 two-fours and take 5 out of box and you would never know (laughter). He figured he drank them.

When I was at the foster home, I got into a band and the drummer of the band was into ecstasy and he offered me some. I didn’t know what it was, he explained it to me and I took that.

After that I went crazy.

I started doing Ritalin. I met another boy who I started dating and he had ADHD so he had hard Ritalin. So he would toss me a few of those.  I would get messed up. Then it was uppers, downers, all arounders… it wasn’t until that I started doing dirty street drugs, like the really gross stuff that I saw how much trouble I was in. I’m gonna die! But it was a way to escape, to stop being angry for a while. If I was messed up I could talk more I would make more friends, people start calling me. Who the hell are you? Sure ya I’ll go hang out (laughter).

I started doing Gravol because I could get a lot of it, that’s easy because I could go into the pharmacy that’s easy just take like 5 or 10 of them. Have a good day. Then it was MDMA, mushrooms, acid and then after that I got into ketamine. I never banged needles. I am afraid of the flu shot so why I am gonna stick myself ? I almost did but once it touched the skin I was like no I can’t it’s gonna hurt.  I never did that. But if I could put it up my nose, up my nose it went. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t buy it.

I started getting paranoid thinking I was gonna have a heart attack. I’m gonna fall asleep and my heart will actually slow down and stop and I’ll die. Eventually that got to be too much and you would start getting mad at yourself if did it because you knew it was going to happen. I knew that I would freak out but I did it anyways. Then I started to snap out of it.  Eventually you start saying no or like prolonged periods without. That was pretty cool. I don’t think many people snap themselves out of it.

This was just a couple years ago. When I was living in Quebec I had hit my worse like, 5 speed pills a day.

Worse worse. And I would still like push for more. If I could get a little bit more that day I would get a little bit more.

I had to run away from my boyfriend. He kept wanting to do drugs and I didn’t want to anymore. He keeps getting scary so I packed my bags & I left.

That was the worst time of my life: getting off speed.

 

Shane’s Story, Episode 2: School

Shane’s Story is an eight episode blog post where Shane tells her story in her own words.  Each week in December, on Mondays and Thursdays at 8 a.m. you can click on both the radio spot and then read the Episode of this special gal’s story. Tweet it to your friends – it gets better as we get closer to Christmas, and Shane’s special Christmas wish to each of you: Hold tight! it is going to be a great ride! Merry Christmas!

Click on the play button to hear a part of her story, then read the rest below:

Difficulties at home were reflected in school. They would put Children’s Aid on our case all the time because I was depressed.  I was always acting out and they (school) blamed my dad and thought he was abusing me. They come constantly because I was depressed and my step family would yell at me, ‘cause Children’s Aid would come over and they’d say it was all my fault. Whatever… I hit a couple of them (the kids). I smashed them. Eventually you don’t care. What are you going to do? Hit me? Hit harder? Whatever… I’ll just hit you harder.

I got beat up a couple of time by my siblings. They took karate lessons and they didn’t have to hit you, they would put some move on you and you’re in excruciating full body pain and you can’t even move. If I had a chance to slug them before they grabbed me, I’d try. Try to get them in the teeth. That’d get them away from me for a little bit at least. Or it will get someone’s attention.

I got used to it. I’m just small, but feisty. Then even though I’d try, but eventually I just couldn’t get them back any more.

I started getting really desperate.

It got to the point where people were getting broken bones because of the fights we were getting in.

I started drawing pictures at school, really morbid pictures. To the point that my teachers started getting worried about my mental health. They started calling in… I remember people came into my school and they’d ask me weird questions about the pictures: Why is it all shackled? Why is it all beaten? Why is it dead? “I don’t know it just is…” I got a lot of attention, and it got me out of class. They’d always come during school  I had to go to another room, where they would have chocolate milk. Sometimes I would get a chocolate milk. That was a good day.

My brother got kicked out first – he had a guns, and switchblades and drugs in the house, and he ended up getting kicked out for having a little marijuana plant in his room. Then my sister, she got pushed out.  They made life so bad for her that she just left. Picking on her all the time. Excluding her. Her anger was pretty bad, and they were afraid of her I think. She was about 17 or so.  Then it was my time.  She (my step mom) was working down from the oldest, then it was my turn.

If you were hungry and went to the kitchen to get food, you were scolded. All of that food was hers and not for us. Even if I just wanted a sandwich – no, not allowed. I would sneak it, and if I got caught, I was in trouble. I was about 12 or 13 and I was starting to stand up to her.

She couldn’t hit me then, but she would take my things and put them in the garage. I would go looking for my shirts and they would be in a pile on the floor in the garage. She yelled, ‘Go clean those up!”  She knew I hated the garage too, ‘cause it was full of spiders.  The spiders would be mixed in with my shirts. I was scared, there might be 10 spiders mixed in the shirts.

I knew I wasn’t nice. I didn’t get treated nice, and I wasn’t nice. Don’t come talk to me or I will hit you.

School was horrible.. I got into all kinds of fights, I would even go after the teachers. They would have to expel me. I would come in and swear at them, I would draw swastikas on my note book and that would get me in trouble. They would come after me and I would put on a little riot, whatever I had to do. They would make me feel bad, and then I would go out and make them feel bad.

I think I was 15 when I was taken out of my home and put into Children’s Aid care, a foster home. I’d go hostile on my step mom to the point that I tried to set her car on fire. I started a website to get people to like kill my older step brother – anything I could do.

Finally they took me. ‘You’re out of control. Come with us.’ And they stuck me in a house full of people that I really didn’t have any business needing to know who they were.

It was an all girl house.

I had one friend at school. A chick who was aggravated with life and really hostile.  Other girls would run from us.

I was mad. Everything made me mad.

Then when I turned 16, I signed the waiver and I went out on my own.