Making the 'Most' of it
By John Mohan

When Dan Ingalls, director of Siloam Mission's MOST (Mission: Off the Street Team) employment training program popped into my office, he had a suggestion... and I had a question. His suggestion was that I lobby the government (he didn't care which one) for $500,000 to build on our program that develops homeless people into employable citizens. I responded that it's a great idea, but that we also want to see the corporate community invest in the front-end costs of the program because they benefit from the people we're producing to fill their hiring needs.

My question to Dan was, "Why isn't Robert in the MOST program anymore?" As I mentally recounted our history together, I feared the worst. The last time he left the program, it was involuntary because he had been caught smoking pot in front of our building.

Six years ago, Robert started coming into our old location on Main Street -- a tiny converted restaurant. In a slightly inebriated state, he asked my wife Brenda if she was married. (She often heard that pickup line when she first joined our staff.) Eventually he decided to look elsewhere and developed a relationship with a shy, middle-aged woman named Virginia. They soon moved in together, sharing a room at the McLaren Hotel.

Brenda and I became friends with them: counselling and providing referral services whenever we could. A few years later they asked if we would be the godparents of their expected child. We were thrilled to agree. Sadly though, their baby daughter Angela was born several months premature and died a few hours after birth. As the tragedy unfolded, Robert explained that because they could not afford a funeral, the memorial would be part of a larger public service the city holds twice a year. With some investigating, we were able to help arrange a more personal service at a nearby funeral home.

One assumes the homeless community is very tight-knit and when one is in pain, many will share the load. That is usually not the case. When we went to Angela's funeral, we saw Robert and Virginia dressed in matching black jeans and new T-shirts and a nurse from the hospital where Virginia gave birth. No one else came. Only the four of us went to Angela's tiny unmarked grave (the nurse had to return to work). Afterward, we took them out for coffee.

Robert was better able to manage his addiction battles than Virginia was. She was found comatose in a bus shelter one bitterly cold night three winters ago and died a few weeks later. Her body was taken back to her reserve at Nelson House for burial and Robert was left alone here in Winnipeg.

Robert has been in Siloam's employment training program for the better part of the past 18 months and, for the most part, was successfully moving ahead with his life, even demonstrating leadership qualities. I was concerned that he had relapsed into old harmful responses to mask his painful memories. Of all the possible scenarios I could imagine, I didn't expect the answer I got.

Robert has a steady part-time job, as a shelf stocker for a grocery store outside the inner city. His employers love his hard work, and he's hoping to get full-time hours soon.

Change happens. Usually, it takes longer than you think it should -- but sometimes it's sudden.

Originally printed in the Winnipeg Sun, Wednesday, April 30, 2008.
Reprinted with the permission of Sun Media Corporation.