About 5 years ago, I had a boyfriend with a serious drug addiction. I won’t go into detail but needless to say from the events that transpired due to his addiction, myself and my young son Joshua who was 5 at the time ended up in a Vancouver homeless shelter for women and children.
Prior to living at the Shelter, I was working full time as a beauty consultant at Super Store in Chilliwack. I was a struggling single mom trying to make ends meet, put food on the table, and pay rent for a small 2 bedroom basement suite. So when we ended up at the Shelter in Vancouver I subsequently lost my job as I couldn’t commute to Chilliwack everyday without a driver’s licence. Public transit was unreliable and greyhound was definitely not an affordable option. So during this time, not only had I lost my home and my job, but my funding for Childcare had also expired as I was no longer employed.
My world was falling apart and I once again found myself on Social Welfare. A service funded by the Provincial Government to assist families living in poverty. I grew up with a single mom who survived off of Social Services and Welfare, so when I had my own children I desperately wanted to provide them with a better life. I wanted to work for a living. Maybe even go back to school. Give them the things I never had. I dreaded the stigma attached to people on Welfare and I didn’t want to be labelled a “Welfare Mom”. And why should I? I worked hard. I was even looking for another part time job to supplement my meagre income working at SuperStore. So why was this happening to me??
I can remember the humiliation I felt as I lined up at the Social Service office right in the heart of downtown Vancouver begging and crying for a cheque in order to feed my child. If it wasn’t for my son Joshua, I would have starved and died before asking for help. But as it was, I found myself lined up amongst others who were also less fortunate. I can remember the look on some faces as we lined up for hours. They appeared drawn and tired, rugged and worn. Some were unclean and smelled real bad. Some were even dressed really nice and I wondered what they were doing in the same line as myself. It was then that I realized that poverty isn’t just some bad picture of dirty people, or drug addicts, or homelessness. Poverty can be everywhere. It can be everybody. And on that day, poverty was me.
The lady at the reception desk was thankfully kind and seemed to pass no judgement on our circumstances. She asked for photo identification and various other forms of ID to prove that I was me, and that I had legal guardianship of my son. She didn’t provide me with a cheque that day, but she made some phone calls and found us a bed at the Woman’s Shelter. So after 4 hours of lining up and going through the application process, my son Joshua and I left the Social Services office with our suitcases in tow, and a few bus tickets that the receptionist had been kind enough to give us.
We took 2 buss’s to the Shelter during rush hour traffic. We hadn’t eaten a meal all day and we were both very tired and sore from carrying our belongings. We hadn’t prepared for the cold rainy day, and by the time we reached the doors to the Shelter we were soaked through to the bones. We were shivering cold, wet, and hungry. Not to mention what was happening to our mental state of mind. We were both scared and as a mother I felt ashamed of what I was putting my son through.
The staff at the Shelter were exceptionally welcoming, generous, and kind to us. They smiled at us, hugged us, and appeared genuinely concerned about our well being. After the introductions, we were guided into another office where we were required to review and sign off on the the Shelter’s rules, expectations, and safety plans. Once all the paperwork had been established and we were signed in, personal goal setting was encouraged and we were told what the protocols were surrounding conflict resolution with other residents. I didn’t understand why all of this was necessary but would later find out.
The entire process of our introduction to the Shelter took approximately 2 hours at which point we were given a tour of the premises. There were long corridors lined with many rooms and non-locking doors. There were several communal bathrooms, one eating hall that sat about 50 residents and their children, a living area with 2 couches and a TV, and a playroom for the children. Rules were strict and non-negotiable. The consequence for failure to comply with Shelter rules meant the possibility of immediate eviction.
We were finally escorted to our bedroom which had 2 cots and 2 lockers. That was it. It reminded me of a hospital room or an institution with white walls and cold hard linoleum. There was no furnishings, lamps, pictures, or even carpet in the Shelter and I realized that this was done on purpose. If it felt like a warm and cozy home, nobody would want to leave. In Vancouver there is a staggering number of homeless people, approximately 10,500 possibly more and unfortunately the funding or resources with which to house them all is insufficient and minimal at best. So the purpose of goal setting and a 30 day maximum stay is encouraged primarily as an effort to help facilitate ongoing access to the resource on a rotating basis so that everybody can be housed and helped throughout the Lower Mainland.
Once Josh and I were settled in our room and we had unpacked our clothing into the lockers, I took a moment to hug him and comfort him. He was terrified but tried to hide it. He asked questions. Allot of questions. I found myself becoming impatient with him as I didn’t know the answers and I didn’t know what to tell him. I was frustrated and he just kept asking and asking. He wanted to be re-assured that everything was going to be ok, and all I could do was try to validate his concerns and show some stability when all I really felt like doing was cry and scream and hit something for the mess we were in. But I couldn’t. I had to stay strong for the little man in my arms who needed his mom now more then ever. We prayed together and I allowed God to take over. I asked Him to provide me the strength and the courage to accept his help and to show me the way out of this awful predicament. It felt like a great big weight had been lifted. I was emotional and physically drained. I wanted to sleep but I couldn’t. Josh needed to eat, he needed a bath, and he needed something familiar. Thankfully I brought a few of his favourite books, and a handful of toys. So after tending to Josh’s needs, and he was fed, bathed, and read to, I pushed both the cots together, tucked us in, hugged him tight and we both fell asleep in each other’s arms. Ironically, despite the horribleness of the day, it was a night I will never forget. A strange calm had come over me. I had my baby boy and we were safe. Somehow I knew that everything was going to be ok.
Over the next few weeks, Josh and I settled into the Shelter. We made some friends, yet we also had to learn quickly who to trust and who to steer clear from. Allot of women at the Shelter had mental health issues and some were also drug addicted. Some would appear to be sweet loving and kind, but all the while they were trying to get your wallet, or bus tickets. Mostly we just stayed to ourselves, and took scenic day trips around the city. We went to Stanley Park and smelled all the roses, to the beaches to collect shells, and walked the famous Sea Wall. We went to Granville Island to feed the birds, and we even went wading in the ocean and splurged on ice cream and a ferry boat ride across the water. It was one of the best times of my life living at the Shelter. It was a time to bond with my son. We were happy together, we felt safe with each other, and we brought comfort to each other. We didn’t have any money so our day trips were limited to the kind of adventures that didn’t cost anything. But those are the best kind. No electronic or media censored stimulation to otherwise occupy our minds. It was just us and the world in nature. Don’t get me wrong, what was awesome for me and felt good for me, may not necessarily have been the same for Josh. Of course he wanted to go to the movies, buy a toy, have some pizza or go to places like the PNE. It was absolutely awful for me to constantly say no. “No Josh, I’m sorry but we don’t have the money right now Josh”. I just kept telling him that any money we had was precious and could not be wasted on frivolous things because our number one goal was to get our own home and to get mommy a job. I don’t know whether Joshua understood or not, but I think he did, because his requests seem to dissipate after awhile.
Our time at the Shelter went by fast and after 30 days we still couldn’t find an affordable apartment or basement suite so we were transferred to an alternate Shelter in Vancouver. Joshua was to start Kindergarten in less the 2 weeks and I was getting worried that he would be starting school without a home to call his own. Not to mention that the school faculty would have to know that we were residing in a homeless shelter. That seemed unacceptable to me and I was starting to panic. We visited my father everyday in Kitilano so that I could go online and search the internet. I even played online poker to subsidize my income from Social Services. Well not long after our move into the second Shelter, I remember this particular day very well. It was the day that Josh, my little man did something so self-less and genuine that it made me cry and thank God for the wonderful gift that he had given me, my son.
I remember it was a cool crisp cloudy day and Josh and I were walking down Main Street towards the bus stop heading home to the Shelter from my father’s house. We were taking our time, enjoying the breeze and the sights around us. We were talking about what we would buy for our new home and what color bedding Josh wanted to have. We were talking about school and what Kindergarten was like. Summer was almost over, the days were getting a little shorter, and the air seemed a little cooler. I was feeling a bit hopeless and defeated but I was too exhausted to worry or think about anything of much importance. Talking to Josh brought me some comfort. It was effortless and it was much better then perseverating on worrisome matters like finding a home, or a job.
Anyways there we were Josh and I, just walking along hand in hand, smiling at all the people we would pass. Josh would sometimes stare at people that seemed strange, but thats just what children do isn’t it? We had become somewhat accustomed to the garbage that littered the streets or the sad eyes that wandered aimlessly past us. I had always taught Josh to respect others and to be kind and smile, but also to never talk to strangers or go near their personal space. Well on this day, Josh took interest in one particular lost soul. The man was sitting in an old dirty doorway, on a half step littered with his scattered belongings of tattered clothing and blankets. The man’s head was between his knees and his hands were wiping the tears off his face. He was rocking back and forth and he appeared terribly distraught or even distrubed. I had always warned Josh to keep his hand in mine and never let go while we walked these mean streets but on this day, he didn’t listen.
I tried to grab Josh and catch him before he actually made contact with the man. I was petrified and scared of the unknown. What if this man had terrible mental health issues and he attacked us? What if he had aids and Josh touches him? What if Josh stepped on the man’s dirty needle that was stashed and burried beneath the pile of rubbish at his feet? I screamed “JOSH!!!!! Come back here right now” Josh ignored me and quickly approached the man. He said hello to the man, and then pulled out from his pocket a crumpled five dollar bill. Josh asked the man, “Are you home-wess?” The man didn’t answer. He just stared at my son. I was starting to panic. The man was going to jump up and go crazy in a minute if I didn’t grab Josh and pull him away. Well, just as I grabbed Josh’s coat jacket, he leaned over and handed the man his crumpled five dollar bill. The man reached out and took it from Josh, smiled, and said thank-you. After they had made their exchange of money and kind greetings, Josh looked up at me and said, “He’s home-wess mom”. I cried with a sigh of relief that Josh was safe, but also at awe of what my child had just done. I hugged him tight and asked him where he got the money from and he replied that grandad had given it to him today so he could buy a treat for himself and for me. I asked Josh if he had more money and I checked his pockets. Josh said no, and his pockets were empty. Josh said that he the man needed the money more then we needed a treat. I can’t even describe to you the emotion that I felt that night. I dont think Josh understood the magnitude of his generosity that day as he was only 4, however through a child’s eye’s he understood that somebody needed help and he thought he could help them.
Not long after that day, Josh and I found a home in beautiful Port Moody, and he started Kindergarden. I went back to school too and got my Community Support Worker/ Social Services Diploma. I’ve spent the last three years trying to give back to the Community assisting others who are in need and Josh has settled nicely into a comfortable routine, and a home he can call his own. I even got my driver’s license now and enough credit for a rainy day. I often think about our life back at the Shelters, and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t thank God for his beautiful gift he gave me when he gave me my son Josh. Josh remembers the Shelters we lived in but only bits and pieces. He remembers our day trips around Vancouver and he still stops to smell the flowers to this day. But it’s strange, he doesn’t remember the day he gave his only five dollars away to a “home-wess” man, and he doesn’t remember ever being homeless with his mom. It’s funny because he’s right, we never really were homeless and Josh knew it when he helped that man 5 years ago. My son taught me that when we think our lives have shattered, and when all our hopes and dreams seem too distant and far to reach…..that we should always remember that there are people far worse off then ourselves and that we need to be thankful for the gifts of life that we have today, especially during troubling times.
The End
Story provided by,
Jen Graham
admin on October 1st, 2009 | File Under Simple acts of kindness stories | No Comments -
