All That The Heart Can Hold

Dear Inner Circle,

As I sat to warm myself over a cuppa this week, I looked up to see the familiar face of a friend I first met 20 years ago. Back then, as a young social worker, I was “in charge” of his son’s restoration, meaning the process of returning his child to live with him when it was safe to do so. The word “restoration” doesn’t quite fit, because he didn’t know he had a son until I called to inform him that one night of passion had created a beautiful life, now hanging in the balance due to severe abuse and neglect. The first time he laid eyes on his son, the child was malnourished and on life support in a humidicrib.  The only thing restored that day was faith in humanity, as I witnessed a young man’s heart grow three sizes that day.  
 
He smiled at me, a weary but contented smile, “Remember Junior?” Junior stood nearby with a beard and big sheepish grin. He was now a hulking yet gentle young man who I learned has a passion for music. As we caught up over hot, sweet, milky tea, we were interrupted by a young girl who asked if we could head into the chapel. “Please pray for me,” she said. “Today is the two-year anniversary of my partner’s death, and my heart is breaking all over again.” I held her head in my hands as I offered her an ancient blessing. She received it through tear-stained eyes and looked up at me expectantly. “It all works out eventually, doesn’t it?” How do you answer that with anything other than tears and an embrace?  
 
No sooner had I resumed my seat than someone else slumped into a chair next to me with an overly dramatic flick of the head, “Father, I think I’m having a heart attack.” This time, there were no prayers requested, just salvation. Thankfully one of our wonderful team members is a former paramedic and attended to her immediately. All that was left for me to do was sit and rub her back gently until the ambulance arrived. “I think you’re a little busy,” my tea buddies observed. We hugged and bade our farewells as they scurried to the airport. It’s good to be back; the sheer chaotic beauty of this place is breathtaking.  

I barely took a breath when I saw the face of someone I had known many years ago. While pregnant, she used to quietly accept money for nappies and formula from one of my predecessors. Often, he would be told off for “wasting money”. “Don’t you know she’ll use it for drugs?” some whispered. Well, today that woman is one of my closest friends and is a beautiful and committed parent. Sometime in the past few weeks, in desperation, a baby was born in a public toilet in the dead of winter. When her cries were heard, the authorities knew immediately that my friend should be entrusted with her care.  
 
The next face I saw was beaming. He had worked overtime all the previous week and then took his entire pay packet to buy blankets, towels and undies to donate to Wayside. “I’ll never forget how cold it is out there, so every year I do my little bit.” It’s more than a little bit mate. What an angel you are.  

I was meeting a friend for dinner that night. As I shared the events of the day with him, he leaned back in his chair, and with reddening eyes remarked, “That’s what is precious about Wayside. You see hope when others only see despair, and that, my friend, is remarkably rare in this world today.”  

Thank you for being part of the Inner Circle,  

Jon

Rev. Jon Owen
CEO & Pastor
Wayside Chapel