This Week at the Mission...

December 15 - December 21.

This week has been wild and crazy.  We brought in three new guys into the Post Detox community, and one has had some serious medical issues to speak of, so that he has had to go to the hospital almost every day.  On top of the regular chaos, folks are getting really excited about Christmas, and for some people, particularly those on 30-day house restriction, it is a depressing time.  We decided to extend visiting hours on Christmas Day, but still, there is nothing like spending Christmas with family.  

On Friday, it started snowing.  The flakes started falling around 1:30pm, and, as I write now on Saturday morning, they are still coming down - almost 24 hours straight of snowfall!  I'm not sure how much has accumulated, but it doesn't look like it's going to stop until around 2pm this afternoon.  Friday evening the men and women at the Mission have to be escorted to an outside AA meeting.  Typically, they walk a mile with a staff member to a meeting in the North End of Boston, and, since I was the lucky one chosen to escort the group, and since I LOVE the snow, we made the 1 mile trek through the snow and wind to the meeting.  The snow coming down was really pretty, and the whole city was slowed down due to the wintry conditions.

Saturday will be my last day at the Mission for a week and a half.  I'm flying home to South Carolina on Monday, and at this point, I can't say I'm not ready to go.  Every time vacation time draws near, I get really excited to go home and really ready to leave the Mission.  This is no different, I just feel like I need a break to recharge my batteries and I am stoked to spend time with my family again.  And, today in South Carolina, it's 66 degrees.  It's going to get colder next week, but still, it won't be the 14 that it is here today.  Hopefully today will run smoothly and I'll be able to walk out of the Mission tonight having finished all of my work until December 31.  

Merry Christmas!

breaking the cycle...

I wanted to break the cycle of weekly mission updates for a minute to divulge on a more personal topic.  Nothing in particular, the real reason is that I haven't updated in 2 weeks and I can't remember what happened 2 weeks ago at the Mission, much less what happened this past week.  But as I listen to a concert played by John Mayer [entitled "John Mayer - On His Own"] that he played on December 6, and as he covers Tom Petty, and as he sings about falling out into nothing, I just feel the urge to write something.  [The great thing is that you can listen to the entire concert online!]  I think I've done my civic duty now by providing the world with the link to this concert.  John Mayer is great live.  Phenomenal, even.  If you're a Johnny fan, you should also check out the video of him and B.B. King singing "Let the Good Times Roll."

I really love Christmas.  I found these commercials the other day on Gap.com, and if you haven't seen these, I definitely suggest checking these out.

If you haven't figured it out yet, this post has evolved into a video-link extravaganza.  I hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

This Week at the Mission...

November 24 - November 30.

Another short week at the Mission, I only worked for three days prior to the Thanksgiving holiday.  One of our senior residents - and one of my best friends - relapsed on Monday, the 24th, and it was hard to watch him go out again.  This is the third time I've seen this guy go through our program, and it's always tough to see him turn back to the drugs.  

We also said goodbye to two more senior residents on Friday and Saturday, and it rings true that the holidays prove to be a tough time for men and women struggling with substance abuse.  The community seems to be rallying together, though, striving for a collective recovery experience and continuing to fight for one another's sobriety.  It is always sobering for our community members to watch senior residents return to the drink or the drug, and I am praying that our community becomes stronger as a result. 

This Week at the Mission...

November 17 - November 23.

This week was defined by hard work, from clients all the way up to our president, getting ready for our annual Day of Thanks Celebration.  This is the 16th year the Mission has celebrated the Day of Thanks, and it was a wonderful event.  Mayor Menino, Governor Patrick, Jo Jo White (of the '76 Celtics Championship Team) and others helped us celebrate the occasion, and the Mission was able to provide more than 100 food baskets to families in need, in addition to serving more than 300 thanksgiving meals to the public.  While chaotic, the Day of Thanks always proves to be an exciting time as the Mission gets to serve the community and witness the gospel going forth through word and deed.

Check out the NECN news broadcast!

Photos from the Day of Thanks:

This Week at the Mission...

November 10 - November 16.

This is a short week for me; I'm only working 4 days and then flying home to South Carolina for an extended weekend.  I haven't been back to Winnsboro since last Christmas, and 11 months is too long to be away from your roots.  Luckily, I'll be able to get a double dose, as I'm flying back for Christmas in a little over a month.  

Even though the week has been short, it has been all but short from eventful.  The guy I wrote about last week - the guy making the weird comments to his sister - decided to leave on Monday, claiming some absurd resemblance of claustrophobia as the primary precipitate for leaving the program.  On Tuesday night, we found out that two of our clients had been in a long-standing relationship - 11 years; and, in our recovery program, relationships are a big deal.  They had been in the program for a little over 2 months, and were both doing fairly well in the pursuit of their recovery.  However, for two months to go by, to not say anything about the extensive past you've shared with another resident is not something we, as a staff team, take lightly.  Both residents were discharged first thing Wednesday morning, and the guy immediately got high. This is the reality of the work we do - many of our residents do not know how to cope with stress or how to deal with situations that are outside of their control.  The conclusion is that they pick up drugs or a drink to help numb the pain, and begin the cycle all over again.  The sad part is that these particular individuals have the knowledge necessary to lead sober lives - they just don't have the desire or the patience to weather the storm.  

Wednesday also witnessed the sign-ups for our annual Day of Thanks.  Last year, the 15th Annual Day of Thanks was a momentous occasion.  The Mission gave out more than 200 turkey baskets to needy families in the city, while also serving between 250 and 300 thanksgiving meals to members of the poor and homeless community.  This year, we expect to do the same.  The sign-ups are quite stressful, though, because there are more people than turkeys.  Our AmeriCorps Vistas, Meryl and Michelle, had to sit through the verbal abuse and be the bearers of bad news, facing reality head-on: the needs of our city's poor and homeless are sometimes greater than our means to provide for them.  

This Week at the Mission...

November 3 - November 9.

The community at the Mission continues to gel. We have a good group of guys and gals in house right now, and it makes a huge difference. Sure, there is everyday chaos that needs managing, but, overall, the residents here are supportive of one another and are striving, together, to break the cycle of addiction in their lives.
Thursday night, I found myself monitoring some phone calls for some of my clients. During one guy's call to his sister, the following remarks were made:

-random observations on religion: "when i'm in the shower, I look up and there's a tapestry that says "what would Jesus do?" And I wonder, 'What would Jesus do?' You know, cuz he was really on the ball a lot of the time."


-describing the word 'Gnarly:' "It basically means extreme, and a little bit scandalous. Like if you looked in the fridge and pulled out a block of cheese that was really moldy, you would say, 'whoa, that's gnarly.'"


For the record, there is no tapestry in the shower, but I did locate the tapestry in question, and it is in the bathroom, above the sinks. I guess this was an honest mistake.

This Week At The Mission...

October 20-October 26.

There's only one event I want to write about from the week.

Yesterday, I received news that one of our former clients overdosed and passed away.  He was a client who had recently relapsed from the program, and came by on Friday to pick up his belongings.  From the Mission, he went to a restaurant in Lowell where he entered the bathroom and proceeded to get high on heroin.  A waitress found him in the bathroom.

This is the most tragic thing to ever happen in my tenure at the Mission.  He was on my caseload a week and 2 days ago, and now he's gone.  I am in shock over this situation, and the residents at the Mission are going about life as usual.  Tragically, this is 'normal' for them, and they have experienced death as a result of getting high time and time again.  For me, it was hard to swallow - I saw this guy yesterday and the last thing I said to him was, "Hang in there, buddy."  

There is solace in knowing that a couple of weeks ago he was baptized, that we were able to have conversations that suggested at least a desire to know more of God, and I find hope in the fact that his baptism represents a change happening in his heart, that Jesus gave him new life, and that now he is with Jesus and the cycle of addiction has been broken in his life forever.

This Week at the Mission...

October 6 - October 12.

I only worked for three days this week, because our church went on a "Church Getaway" to New Hampshire on Friday.  It was a great decision to take off Friday and Saturday, since last week I worked A LOT.  

Two of my guys went MIA this week, one on Thursday night, and the other at the beginning of the week.  Today in the 10AM group, a senior resident said, "It's hard when someone you're close to doesn't listen to your advice and just decides to leave one day.  It's hard to watch someone go out like that.  It makes me not want to get close to anyone else."  I looked at him and said, "Welcome to my world."  

On a lighter note, Damon, who many have heard tell of before, celebrated a year of sobriety on Friday, the 10th.  It's a big deal.  Damon was in the Mission when Tyler and I first moved, and he was the first man we were close to who relapsed.  Many people prayed for Damon on that occasion, and also for us to know how to love him.  Damon is a special man, and it has been an answer to prayer to see him come back and fight for his sobriety.  I am really proud of him, and I was able to congratulate him on Friday over the phone.  It's excellent to watch him achieve this milestone.

Praise God for His faithfulness in Damon's life!

This Week at the Mission...

September 29 - October 5.

Wrapping up September, there's not a whole lot to report.  The Mission continues to run smoothly and we continue to see new folks enter our community.  

The week itself was wild, because I ended up working a lot of hours, 7 more than scheduled, due to various occurrences going on at the Mish.  Overall, though, it was an uneventful week.

This Week at the Mission...

September 22-September 28.

It's hard to believe that September is almost over, and that this was the first full week of Fall.

We're wrapping up our first month of the new Fiscal Year, and we've been able to bring in some solid community members over the last month.  Several are folks who have received services from us before, and it's been nice to welcome them back.  

The week started off with a lot of drama, as we came off of one of the most exciting weekends we've ever had [exciting used in the context of D-R-A-M-A].  Several women were discharged for relapsing, the community overall was propelled into 'negative space,' and on Monday the drama carried over into two more residents being discharged from the program.  

On Friday, I spent the first two hours of my shift confronting a guy on whether he had used drugs the night previous, and, after initially lying to me, I tested him.  He confessed after the test returned positive results.  The guy was compliant and went to detox, but it is always difficult to confront someone over relapsing, and then have those suspicions confirmed, especially when he lies about using in the first place.

Overall, the week has been event-filled and full of drama, but the community continues to stabilize itself and we have a good group of folks residing at the Mish as we move towards the beginning of October.  

Today at the Mission...

September 10, 2008.

Wild Wednesday.

It seems like every Wednesday (much like every Monday) is wild and crazy at the Mission.  I arrived at the Mission around 7:55am, and immediately parked my bicycle in the chapel office and began listening to voice mails.  The staff leaves voice mails about pertinent information that needs to be shared quickly across the entire staff team, so that everyone can be on the same page regarding important incidents that take place on a day-to-day basis.  As I dialed in my extension to begin listening, the recording told me I had 35 messages.  35 Messages?!?  This is typically unheard of when I've only been off for one day.  There was a total of 19 workable hours over the course of which messages had been left.  I was stunned and shocked that, after not working on Tuesday, I had 35 messages.  It's a little overwhelming, because it takes about an hour and a half to get through that many voice mails.  I was able to listen to 2 messages before our 8:05am staff meeting.  I really put a dent in it.  

After the normal daily goals group leadership, delegation of chores, and field trip to Kingston Deli to get breakfast, I strapped down in my office, hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and tackled the voice mails.  (I still only got through about 15 of them...but I was able to enjoy my daily dose of cornbread and bacon.)  At 9:30, I did the smoke break, and then I led a co-ed therapeutic group at 10.  The topic of the group was self-esteem, and the community really responded well.  I like to use material that is interactive, mostly so that it carries us through the entire time, but also so that our residents get the feeling that they are being productive.  There are worksheets that we use for self-esteem, and the community rallied around the topic and it ended up being a really good group. At 12pm, I met some friends for lunch at Finagle-a-Bagel, and ended up seeing a few homeless compatriots as we sat at a table by the window.  [On a side note, my friends swear they left Finagle smelling like their food, a complaint that is most readily associated with Subway.  I, on the other hand, didn't smell, and so debated their claims, especially when one of them said she thought she smelled worse than when she goes in Subway.  Yeah.  Right.]  

When I got back to the Mission at 12:40pm, a gentleman seeking placement into our shelter program was waiting to be interviewed.  After 45 minutes of speaking with him, (which, for the record, is a long time for an interview for our shelter program) I determined that he had some mental health issues that could not be accommodated by our program.  At least he wasn't talking about "truth from the sun."  

The rest of the afternoon was fairly low key, until about 4:30pm, when I was leaving, and one of our former residents was gallivanting on the common floor of the Mission.  I directed him to go back downstairs and wait for a Case Manager to come get him.  He was let upstairs by one of the residents working the front desk.  This is absolutely unacceptable, because he could've gone anywhere and done anything once getting past the locked stairwell door.   

Today at the Mission...

September 8, 2008.

Mondays at the Mission are always exciting.  I arrived about 5 minutes early for my morning shift, and found out that three people left our program over the course of the weekend.  One was a guy on my case-load, who left to live with his girlfriend [the positive side of this story is that the guy is going to be a father, and is really motivated to be there for his girlfriend and their baby].  Another was a quirky guy who, although he is extremely opinionated on every subject imaginable, was also extremely likable and, most likely, the hardest worker at the Mission.  The third was a lady that I didn't really know.

We begin every morning shift with a 10-minute meeting to discuss the goings-on of the previous day, to figure out if there are things that need to be taken care of throughout our shift, to delegate smoke-break responsibilities [we provide intermittent smoke breaks throughout the day for our residents, one every 1 1/2 - 2 hours], and to pray for each other.

After the meeting, the men and women in the Post Detox and Re-Entry programs [see  http://www.brm.org/index.aspx?sec_id=14&page_id=238&page_url= for a complete description of our programs] gather for a Daily Goals Group, where we go around the circle stating goals for the day, read from a Narcotics Anonymous Devotional Book, and then delegate morning chore assignments.    

After the morning goals group, I headed upstairs to make sure that the 5th floor met the cleanliness standards [this has been a big deal in the past couple of weeks] and then I did the smoke break.  "Doing a smoke break" is the typical phrase used around the Mission, and basically means that I stand outside with our residents for 15 minutes at a traffic island and ensure that nothing dangerous happens.  After the smoke break, I facilitated a therapeutic group with the Mens' Post Detox residents about the importance of cleanliness, and then we took some time to put our discussion to practical use, and they cleaned their bed areas.  It was really productive!

Around 12pm, as I was finishing up my lunch in the kitchen, one of my female colleagues came downstairs and said there was a "situation" upstairs and that a male case manager was needed.  I walked upstairs, and there wasn't really anything going on, and then I was directed that the man stirring things up was standing outside the Mission.  I walked outside, and, sure enough, a 6'3" African American male was there, screaming about the injustice of the situation.  The "situation" was this:  He came by the Mission and asked to use the restroom so that he could wash up and beat the heat.  He recognized one of our residents, and proceeded to walk through the door onto the main floor [this door is supposed to stay closed at all times in order to prevent situations like this from happening in the first place...this is also one of the hardest things to enforce because the front desk workers never remember to close the door] and began screaming at him when he was told he couldn't use the restroom.  When I came outside, apparently he was still screaming about it, and had lots of things to say that didn't really make any sense.  He screamed for a while about "truth from the sun" and how the political system is unjust, from Bush all the way down to organizations like us, and how we were just enforcing our "Greek rules" which were influenced not by God, or the "truth from the sun," but by a "little man with horns and a tail."  He also yelled about having choices, and how we were choosing to "perpetuate the injustice of the political system," since we were not using our "skills in social services and human services and such" to be kind to this man and let him use our restroom to "wash up, and shave, and get out of the heat for a minute or two."  When he finally stopped screaming after about 10 minutes, I told him that we chose to keep our bathroom locked until 3:00pm, but that he was welcome to return at 3:00 and use the restroom.  I also suggested that he go to Wendy's or to South Station because both of those places have public restrooms.  He seemed surprised by these suggestions, and then complained about how Wendy's would probably be "shady in their dealings," but he began to walk away, screaming more about Bush and the injustice of not listening to the "truth from the sun."  

The afternoon was not nearly as eventful, but one of my colleagues and I were able to "do a referral" for a new admission to the Mens' Post Detox program.  "Doing a referral" just means looking through a potential client's paperwork, and, after judging that the client would be a good fit for our program, calling the detox and conducting a phone interview.  We spoke with the gentleman for about 20 minutes, and were pleased to be able to accept him into our program.  

Today at the Mission...

September 2, 2008.

Today was *fairly* uneventful.  (let's be real honest, the Mish is NEVER uneventful).  There was not a whole lot of chaos going on today, though, and so I was able to check in with a few of my guys.  This evening, I escorted the group to an AA meeting, and four of our community members shared some of their personal stories and struggles with addiction.  They were very moving stories, especially the last one, which reflected on the painful ways in which her children were born.  Because she was an active addict during the pregnancy, her son was born addicted to methadone (a synthetic opiate originally created by the Nazi party to control minds), and had to 'detox' in the hospital for 21 days.  She described the pain and agony of watching her baby writhe and wriggle in pain, unable to feel peace or comfort during the first days of his tiny and fragile life.  It was an incredibly moving story.

The highlight of my afternoon was singing for my friend, Damon - (who happens to be the same Damon that many folks have heard tell of before) - I sang him 'the perfect country western song,' "You Never Even Called Me By My Name," by David Allan Coe, in reference to it being the perfect song for karaoke.  We both laughed hysterically as I donned my best 'country western' accent.

**amendment:  After I had posted this blog, I went downstairs to make sure everything was shut down and everyone had returned from their passes.  One of our female residents was standing outside the Mission with a young man who looked to be somewhere between 15 and 17 years old.  It turns out that the young man was her son who had run away from a TSS program in Framingham (which is close to an hour away from the city).  The other members of the staff team and myself tried to talk her son into going to a program for youth, but he turned down the invitation.  After a while, he went on his way, stating he had a safe place to go for the night, but constantly suspicious that we were going to call the police and have him arrested.  His mother seemed to handle it ok, she definitely was upset; it was heart-breaking to see the vicious cycle of sin that not only affects our female resident, but also her son.

Today at the Mission...

September 1.  Labor Day.

While the vast majority of folks are enjoying a relaxing holiday and a long weekend, I am sitting at work.  On holidays, the Mission still functions on a regular programming schedule - that's one of the drawbacks of working for an organization that, by it's very nature, requires 24/7 supervision for the folks that it serves.  I can't really complain, because I do get a labor day holiday...just not until Thursday.  

I walked in about 15 minutes early for my shift, and that was after stopping at Dunkin' Donuts for breakfast.  I found out around 7:55am that my colleague wouldn't be arriving until about 8:30am, since the train system in Boston runs on a 'holiday schedule.'  I conducted a joint Morning Goals Group (joint meaning it was co-ed) and then supervised morning chores.  I also dealt out some discipline for some minor infractions at the Goals Group.  

At 10:00am, I facilitated a therapeutic group focusing on honesty, and it ended up being a really productive group.  The community of men in the group really opened up and shared about things they thought they could be honest about in recovery, and things they thought they didn't need to be honest about in recovery.  It's a very interesting dynamic when you hear men, who for most of their lives have survived solely on deceit, begin opening up about the importance of being honest.  At the same time, it's discouraging to hear them talk about not wanting to come clean about absolutely everything, which suggests a desire to continue hiding and not surrender completely to the transforming power of the gospel.  

I did some necessary paperwork after lunch, and spent some time with a homeless friend who stopped by a couple of times, and we just shot the breeze for a while.  

Today at the Mission...

It's 1:45pm on Thursday, and I've just come through the front door.  I'm 15 minutes early because I left my house at 1:15, and riding my bike - even when I'm riding slow - just doesn't take that long.  I am directed immediately to go to the chapel so that I can be trained in CPR.  Last year, CPR training was really funny.  This year proved no different, particularly when the President of the Mission started dealing out forceful back blows as we were practicing what to do with a conscious choking adult.  Luckily, no one was hurt.

After training, I took care of some paperwork that needed doing, and my office mate and I had some discussion on what to do with several of our more unruly residents.

We had dinner at 4:30pm, and then I escorted a group of male and female residents to an outside AA meeting.

Upon returning to the Mission, I tackled some more paperwork, and also hid some choice snacks up on the 6th floor that I'll partake of later.  I also sat at the front desk for a while with a resident named Marty, who was working the front desk for our Safe and Healthy Program.  [for a complete description of our programs, please check out the following: http://www.brm.org/index.aspx?sec_id=14&page_id=239&page_url].  While at the front desk, I noticed a Safe and Healthy Guest acting strangely, and so I asked him if he had taken anything or if he was under the influence.  He flatly denied it, and was allowed to remain for the rest of the night.  Unfortunately, I'm so sure that he was under the influence, he will not be allowed to return until further review.

Finally I wrapped up the night, shut down the floors, and headed home around 10:30pm.

Today at the Mission...

August 27, 2008

It’s Wednesday, and I arrived to work at about 5 minutes until 8:00am.  Coming through the front door, I was immediately welcomed by one of my clients stating that he was leaving on a pass, and that he would return later in the morning.  Additionally, a former resident was calling detox at the front desk, and made it very clear that he was interested in returning to the Mission.  As I was carrying my bicycle up one flight of stairs to the chapel floor office, I overheard the following announcement over the loudspeaker:  “Good morning, Kingston House!  Your weather forecast for the morning is clear skies with a high of 77.   Prayer group will begin immediately in the dining room.”  (as a note, announcements made over the P.A. system are typically strictly business, so this was HILARIOUS).  At 9:15am, as is my custom when I work the morning shift, I headed to Deli One (formerly the Kingston Deli) for cornbread and bacon – and you thought Wheaties was the breakfast of champions.  For $3, it can’t be beat. 

At 10am, I led a discussion about sobriety – what is it, how do we get it, how do we keep it – with 14 residents.  It was a co-ed group, and ended up being fairly productive, as far as groups go.

At lunch, there was a conversation revolving around cows pointing towards North and South (2/3 of cattle supposedly do this).  We also discussed the probability of being able to kill a moose with one shot, if the moose was angry and charging.

Today at the Mission...

A note of preface:

I have decided to be more consistent in my blogging efforts, while hopefully cluing folks in on day-to-day happenings - both funny and serious - at the Boston Rescue Mission.  Thus begins my effort to create a daily entry, entitled "Today at the Mission."  I hope you enjoy.

Hiatus

Well, I took a 2 month hiatus from blogging.  After all the stories about Montreal, I felt like I needed a break.  

So I've waited until today to resume a more regular (hopefully!) blogging schedule.  One of the reasons I felt inspired to resume blogging today is because I have yet another funny/ridiculous traveling story.

I have been on vacation since Friday, July 25th (which, incidentally, was also my birthday), and was scheduled to fly to Asheville, NC, to spend the week with my parents at Lake Junaluska.  Tyler dropped me off at the airport around 1:45pm on Sunday afternoon, and I boarded the plane and was ready to lock in for an uneventful trip.  

Unfortunately, there was a band of storms from Virginia to New Hampshire that was blocking all of the departure routes out of Logan.  After 5 hours of sitting in the airport - that's right, 5 hours...feels like Christmas all over again! - I finally decided to get my flight rescheduled for Monday.  

Over the course of my 5-hour visit to Logan, I was able to meet some interesting folks.  I found myself in conversation, first, with a guy that must travel for a living, because he was telling me about other flights he had been on this summer that had been delayed due to weather.  I also overheard these high-school girls talking to different guys on the phone, and laughed a lot at the things they were saying.  The most interesting conversation I had, though, was with a guy and his son from Bristol, Tennessee, who had flown up for not one, but two Red Sox/Yankees games.  There were two things that made this conversation the most interesting.  First, the guy had the most southern accent I have heard in Boston in a long time.  Second, he tried to tell me how expensive his tickets were to the games several times.  I sort of just gave him this "DUH" look, and thought to myself, "OF COURSE THEY WERE EXPENSIVE, IT'S RED SOX/YANKEES!"  We hashed over the improvements the Red Sox should make, how much different Fenway is from other stadiums, and some other various and sundry baseball history.  

All in all, it was a fun time, an adventurous experience, and, of course, one more reason why flying from Logan to anywhere, USA, is always, ALWAYS, exciting.

June?!

I think Massachusetts may be the only place where Spring is forgotten and Summer is launched into in full force.

It's hard to believe it's June already.  It seems like just a few weeks ago it was in the 40's.  Oh wait.  That's because it was.  In my experience in Boston, it seems that the seasons are not exactly in line with the rest of the country.  Here, the weather has jumped directly from wintry mixes to summer scorches.  But hey, it's beautiful, and I love the warm weather.  Bring on the summer time!

The Border and Home

We finally reached the U.S. Border, and I got really nervous about making it back across.

After our run-in with the Canadian customs official, and the "excitement" we had with him, I didn't have any idea what to expect from the American customs official.  All I knew was that people had warned me about not having a passport, and I started to freak out a little bit about being able to get back across the border.  After about 20 minutes waiting in line, we pulled up to the official, and he asked us if we had a good time in Canada.  We said yes, and then he asked us if we had stopped on the side of the road to pick flowers or pick up food or anything else that we were planning to bring back across the border.  We said no, and he checked the vehicle for any flowers we might be smuggling.  He wished us well and welcomed us back to the States. 

We decided to take an alternate route home, driving through the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  We stopped in a little town in Vermont for lunch, and tried some Poutine, which is basically french fries with brown gravy and cheese curds in them.  It's not very good.  The grilled cheese, bacon and tomato sandwich I had, however, was pretty incredible.  We left a luni as a tip for our waitress (with some American money).  Our ride home was fairly uneventful, until we arrived back to Somerville and Nicole crossed several lanes of traffic in order to get into a Burger King to use the bathroom.

Overall, the trip to Montreal was a blast.  I was reminded over and over again of God's faithfulness, and that God really does answer the prayers of His people.  It was a beautiful picture of reconciliation to see Lindsey and Lauren reunited, and I am happy to report that Lauren has been in close contact with her family since.

The United States Border.

The Lyndon Freighthouse, where we ate lunch in Vermont.

We're Lost!

On the ride home, I had a brilliant idea.

I decided that every road trip needs a good sign to show to other cars as you drive by.  I was probably too thrilled with my idea, because I couldn't stop laughing long enough to actually write out the sign.  I took one of our Mapquest maps and wrote on the back, "We're Lost!"  I would put it up in the window and make an awful look of confusion and fright.  The girls got a kick out of it, especially since I pulled down the visor mirror to practice my facial expressions before I flashed the sign.

"We're Lost!"

Lindsey doesn't look very convinced.

The Waterfront

Our Sunday morning routine was much like that of Saturday morning.  We woke up, took showers, and headed down to the lobby for the continental breakfast.

After breakfast, we checked out of the hotel and stopped by the waterfront of Montreal to check out the sites.  It was raining, and I think we were all sort of in a daze, because none of us really talked much, we just sort of drank in everything we saw.  The waterfront was beautiful, and would have been spectacular had it not been raining.

We went to Lauren's apartment for one more goodbye, and then we loaded up in the Jeep and began to make our way through Montreal towards the Highway.  

Nicole and I getting soaked down by the waterfront.

Lindsey and Nicole by the river.

"Welcome to Canada!"

St. Catherine's St.

Our night on the town, cleverly planned by Nicole and myself, was supposed to involve dancing in order to celebrate a successful trip.  So we headed out in the direction of St. Catherine's Street, as directed by the concierge at the hotel.  

The best way to describe St. Catherine's Street is to compare it to the Strip in Myrtle Beach.  If you're not familiar with that particular stretch of Ocean Boulevard that runs by where the Pavilion used to be, then think about a one-mile stretch of road that is packed with people, cars cruising with the windows rolled down and the music turned up, and restaurants, bars, tourist traps, and strip clubs lining the sidewalk.  Then think about all of those folks decked out in Montreal Canadiens gear, and think about them all speaking French.  Now you're on St. Catherine's Street.

Before we left for Montreal, the residents at the Rescue Mission warned me about St. Catherine's Street.  Well, they didn't actually warn me, they told me that St. Catherine's Street was where everyone went when they visited Montreal, and that I should definitely try to go and hang out there.  Now I know why.  Montreal's legal drinking age is 18, and I'm sure the admitting age into the bars and strip clubs is also 18.  It makes a lot of sense when I think about our clients letting me know all about St. Catherine's Street, they probably all had lots of experience.  

We walked on St. Catherine's Street for a while, looking for a dance club called "Thursday's."  After passing several strip clubs, being solicited to go inside because of the "beautiful women," and having Nicole and Lindsey "checked out" by some really sketchy dudes, we found "Thursday's" in a line of other clubs and bars on a side street off of St. Catherine's.  We walked inside, and were really disappointed with what we found.  Instead of loads of people dancing and living it up, all we found was loud music - and some really old, really scandalously dressed people.  There were three or four folks dancing, and we were all feeling pretty uncomfortable at this point, but we found a table in the corner and had a seat.  Almost immediately a waitress came to our table and asked if we wanted anything, and I ordered a Labatt Bleue.  Nicole and Lindsey followed suit, and before we knew it, the waitress had three bottles of the Canadian Budweiser at our table.  The kicker is that it was $6...per bottle.  That's right - three bottles of Canadian Budweiser was $18.  We were shocked - and dismayed - because Labatt Bleue is, well, terrible.  We were upset that there wasn't really any dancing going on, and we were getting tired, as well.  We had had a long day, so we finished our beer and decided to head back to the hotel.  As we walked out of "Thursday's," we noticed another door, above which a sign read, "Thursday's Club."  We had completely missed the entrance to the dance club, but at this point were utterly exhausted and ready to call it a day.  We walked back to the hotel, got some snacks from Nicole's car, and very soon after went to sleep.

Notice the bottle of Labatt Bleue - it is terrible.

Lindsey and Nicole at Thursday's.

The Map

This is how I found Nicole in the obscure part of the hotel.

This is Nicole's reaction to me standing there.

This is my reaction to what she was doing.  

DOUBLED OVER WITH LAUGHTER.

(a pretty good indication of what the rest of the trip was like)

Catching Our Second Wind

When we got back to the hotel, we had about 2 and a half hours before meeting Lauren for dinner.

We were so exhausted that when we got to the room, we all crashed.  It was about 4:30pm, and we all took naps for about an hour before visiting the hotel bar for Happy Hour (The hotel gave us two free drink coupons per person).  We met Lindsey's sister at 7pm in the hotel lobby, and went to Montreal's Chinatown.  We ate at "La Maison de V.I.P." and had some really incredible Chinese food.  We mistakenly ordered a "dinner for four," and had way more food than any of us could put down.  The waitstaff was pretty funny, too.  One of the waiters brought our soup and, as he set the first bowl on the table, said, "Wonton Soup.  Ding dong!"  

When we left the restaurant, we saw a street sweeper that resembled an anteater.  We headed back to the hotel, and Lindsey and her sister kicked it for a while and called their parents while Nicole and I headed down to the lobby to give them some space and to have some adventures of our own.  

In the lobby, we found out that we could use the Bonaventure Hilton's swimming pool, which was on the roof of the hotel.  I got really excited about this fact and took the map from the concierge and slapped it across the desk, saying, with lots of feeling, "Welcome to Canada!"  Nicole and I walked away flabbergasted about what had just come out of my mouth, but laughing hysterically at the same time.

Later on, Nicole disappeared to some obscure part of the lobby.  When I found her, she was reading French phrases off of the map to herself, out loud.  Then she began to sing, and finally started humming to herself, before going, "Oh!" and dropping the map to find me standing there laughing hysterically.  

We finally went back to the room, told Lauren goodbye, and Lindsey, Nicole and I headed out for a night on the town...

Relaxing in the room.

The street-cleaner.

Lindsey and Lauren.

Marijuana Parade, Part 2

We climbed on the #80 bus, and were greeted by a bus driver speaking in French.

After we got on the #80 bus, we felt relieved because we had our bus transfers in hand and were ready to hit St. Catherine's Street, where there was rumored to be some good shopping (this was more up the girls' alley than mine, but I was happy to tag along).  We had traveled for about two blocks when a Metro official jumped on the bus and began screaming commands in French.  We weren't sure what was happening, but everyone started getting off the bus, so we followed suit.  We stood on the corner for a minute debating what we should do next, as the Metro Official was explaining something in French to most everyone else who got off the bus.  They looked like a tour group, so we stayed on the corner talking about what we would do.  Then, to our surprise, the Metro official crossed the street from the mob of folks he had just ushered away, and waved to us to follow him!  Not thinking twice, we did!  We ended up boarding the #97 bus with our friends from the #80 bus, and were off.

Looking back, it makes a lot of sense why what happened next happened at all.  Three Americans were riding a bus because a man wearing a uniform waved at them to follow him and yelled some things in French.  We had no idea where we were going, what direction our hotel was in, or how we would get home now that we were on a new bus.  But the bus pulled forward, and we were off.

A few things happened on this bus ride.  First, we drove right past the actual Marijuana parade.  The highlight of the protests were the Rastafarians who were rapping on the back of a flatbed truck.  They had dreadlocks and were decked out in their best reggae threads.  There was also a girl dressed like a marijuana leaf, and lots of folks who were just happy to be there.  

Second, we began to realize that we were pulling further and further away from where we wanted to be, particularly since we passed the area we had been in earlier in the day, and began to see things that we didn't recognize.  Ahead of us, a weird arm-looking thing began to make it's way into the sky, and we began to realize, too, that all three of us had to use the bathroom pretty badly.  A nice Frenchman, recognizing our distress, advised us to get off the bus immediately and get on another bus, but he didn't give us much direction as to how to get on the other bus, or where we would actually find it.  

We got off the bus at the next stop, and Nicole and I puzzled over a map of the Metro for a minute before figuring out where we needed to be and how we needed to get there.  At this point, we were really needing restrooms badly, and were excited to see a gas station ahead.  As we walked up to the restroom in the bathroom, though, our spirits dropped as we read a sign on which was written, "Hors d'usage," or "Out of Order."  So we trekked on.  Finally, we found the Metro station we were looking for (after another 15-20 minutes of walking) and luckily there was a Dunkin' Donuts right beside the station.  There was a sign on the door that said the bathroom was only for paying customers, and Nicole got discouraged and said, "Oh well, I guess we can't go in there."  At this point, I looked at her and said, "Nicole, you must be crazy!  I'll buy anything I have to in order to use their bathroom!"  We walked inside, purchased a "Special de Patron" donut, and were all able to use the women's restroom (the men's key was lost).  We walked into the Metro station, relieved, handed our transfer tickets to the Metro official, and boarded the subway back to our hotel.

The Marijuana Protest.

More from the Marijuana Protest.

Nicole and I figuring out where we need to go.

The "Arm" in the distance, which turned out to be Olympic Stadium (circa 1976), which is a VERY LONG WAY from our hotel.  You can also see the corner of the gas station where we first tried to use the restroom.

Marijuana Parade

After we left the costume shop, we scoped out some local clothing stores that were a little overpriced (like most stuff in Canada).  

There was one store, called "Preloved," that constructed clothing from old t-shirts and other various materials.  After we visited this shop, we went to a restaurant called "Tomato" for lunch.  We ordered a three-cheese pizza and all had Stewart's sodas.  After lunch, we saw what we thought was a protest rally to re-legalize marijuana.  Apparently, Montreal recently criminalized marijuana, and there was supposed to be a big protest on Saturday.  We walked down to the rally, and it turned out to be a May Day parade instead.  We were a little disappointed, but Lauren knew just what would lift our spirits - CUPCAKES!

We went to a cupcake restaurant that Lauren recommended, and we all got different types of cupcakes.  Lindsey got a vanilla one, Nicole got a lemon one, and I got a chocolate chai one.  After we left the cupcake shop, Lauren explained how we should get back to our hotel by the #80 bus.  We crossed the street and climbed on board...

This was a Nautical shop across the street from "Tomato."

The May Day parade, complete with Trojan Horse!

Dress-up

When Nicole and I left Lindsey with Lauren, we were looking for a place to kick it while they hung out.

We found a local Starbucks, called "Cafe Starbucks Coffee," and went inside.  I ordered a Tall Vanilla Latte (which was $5 there!) and we sat down in the corner of the store and talked about how blown away we had been by what we just witnessed.  It was such a testament to God's faithfulness that Lindsey and Lauren would be reconciled to one another immediately, and Nicole and I just couldn't believe it.  While we were sitting in Starbucks, talking about these things and fighting off the tears, we saw Lindsey and Lauren walk by!  Nicole waved to them and got their attention, and they headed back to Lauren's apartment while Nicole and I decided to scope out the local shops.

The first shop we went into was a costume shop.  We had a lot of fun in there.  Nicole picked up a pair of huge sunglasses and put them on, and then we found some rad hats.  Nicole tried on various "Southern Belle" and English-style party hats, and I tried on some Pirate and Patriot hats - the three-cornered ones.  I also found a sweet cardboard hat with the red, white and blue stripe around it, and felt like I was celebrating the 4th of July (except that we were in Canada).  Lindsey and Lauren met us in the costume shop, and we greeted them with our hats on - we took a couple of photos of ourselves before leaving the shop to explore more of Montreal with Lindsey's sister.

The Viking Hats we greeted Lindsey and Lauren with when they got to the costume shop.

more hats... 

and more pictures...

Inside the Metro Station - this is the Map of the Orange Line.  

Nicole riding on the train, looking a little nervous.

The "Cafe Starbucks" where Nicole and I kicked it while Lindsey and Lauren hung out.

The outside of Lauren's apartment building.

Finally, some pictures!

Lindsey and Nicole outside of a rest area in Vermont.

Me driving to Canada.

The Stop Sign at the Border - Arret!

The Search Begins...

Our day on Saturday began early, around 7:30am, when Nicole's biological clock "went off."

Actually, Nicole claimed that her biological clock would go off around 7:30am, but I think it was broken, because she didn't wake up until a little after 8:00am.  We all went down to the lobby for the Embassy Suites Continental Breakfast, which was incredible!  They had bagels, muffins, English muffins, pastries, fruit, bacon, sausage, home fries, and, best of all, a make-your-own omelet bar.  They also had coffee and two types of juice.  We ate breakfast and then got ready for the day.  

We left the hotel around 9:45am, headed for the Metro station.  Although I've often claimed that I was "born to navigate," Nicole did a wonderful job of steering us around the city, particularly when it came to using the Metro, Montreal's public transportation system.  When we arrived to the Place D'Armes Subway Station, the ticket machine was broken, so we had to ask the Metro employee for tickets.  Unfortunately, he wouldn't speak to us in anything except French, and finally we just pushed $12 through the window and he gave us 6 tickets.  

After some debate, Nicole figured out which train we were supposed to get on, and we rode on the Orange Line to our destination.  We exited the train and first headed in the wrong direction before realizing that the numbers were not going the way they were supposed to on the apartments we were passing.  We switched directions, and arrived at the steps of Lindsey's sister's apartment.  

Lindsey went up to the door, rang the doorbell, and Nicole and I watched on, with much anticipation.  After a few seconds, Lindsey rang the doorbell again.  A girl came to the door, and Lindsey and her sister, Lauren, stood face to face for the first time in 2 years.  The sweetest hug I've ever witnessed followed, and ensued for close to 10 minutes.  Nicole and I went to a local Starbucks, called Cafe Starbucks Coffee in Montreal, and kicked it while Lindsey and Lauren reunited.

Crossing the Border

The first real excitement we had on our trip occurred when we tried to cross the Canadian border.

As we pulled up to the Customs House, we knew we were in for trouble because the Stop Sign didn't say stop, but rather, "Arret."  We were third in line, and had to wait for a while before we saw the customs official.  When we finally got to the window, the customs official greeted us and welcomed us to the border (in French, of course) and then proceeded to ask us a truck-load of questions very quickly:

"Where do you live?"

"Where are you going?"

"Why do I only have one ID and not three?"

"What is the purpose of your visit?"

"How long will you be in Montreal?"

"Are you carrying any alcohol, tobacco, or firearms?"

"Are you carrying anything you plan to leave in Montreal, gifts, presents, anything?"

"What is your sister doing in Montreal?"

"Oh, She's in School?  What School?"

After the barrage of questions, he reassured us by saying, "You folks are in for some excitement tonight!"  He handed us a slip and directed us to hand it to the officer we would pull up to, and that officer asked us to get out of the vehicle.  As we stood off to the side and the border police scanned Nicole's Jeep for drugs, bombs, and other questionable items, Nicole started acting really shady.  She kept making comments about how she was nervous, and Lindsey and I both asked her what she was talking about and what she had in the Jeep that was going to get us into trouble.  Fortunately, they didn't find whatever Nicole was worried about, and we got back in the vehicle and made our way to Montreal.  

Some Background...

You may be wondering why I went to Montreal in the first place.  

Two of my friends [Lindsey and Nicole] and I drove to Montreal to search for Lindsey's sister, who has been out of contact with her family for close to two years.  Lindsey had an address, but no real way of knowing whether her sister would be there or not.  We departed from my apartment around 6:30pm with full stomachs, good tunes, and a 6 hour road trip ahead of us.  

I have to say from the front of telling this whole story that I was pretty skeptical about finding Lindsey's sister at all.  I was going more for moral support than anything else, in addition to it being my first out-of-country experience.  I knew that even if we didn't find her, the three of us would have a blast in Canada, particularly since Montreal is French-speaking and none of us really knew any French (even though Lindsey and I had both taken it for several years apiece), but also because, well, that's typically how road trips go.  And so we left, not really knowing what to expect beyond whatever fun and adventure might lay in store.  

Road Trips are Awesome

Over the course of the next few days, I hope to be able to post some different stories that paint a fairly accurate picture of a road trip I took this weekend to Montreal, Quebec, Canada.  To start things off, though, I thought I would make a quick list of things I think make road trips awesome.

1.  Road Trip Music.  That's right folks, a CD for every hour of your trip, with songs that range the gamete of musical greatness like Garth Brooks' "Thunder Rolls," The Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated," Journey's "Don't Stop Believin,'" or Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone."  

2.  "Playing the Game."  If you know what the game is, then you have a pretty great idea about why this makes a road trip memorable.  

3.  Crossing the Border.  Surprisingly exhilarating, especially when you're told, "You guys are in for some excitement tonight," or asked if you stopped on the side of the road to pick some flowers that you were trying to smuggle back into the USA.

4.  "Adventures."  These could include protests, dancing, bus-riding, or ice machines.

5.  Good Food.  Preferably the local variety.

6.  Snacks.  Make sure you've got plenty on hand.  

7.  Run-ins with the locals.  

I hope this whets your appetite to hear more about this great trip to Montreal.  

Discipline

Sometimes in my life discipline is a huge struggle.
This not only has serious implications for my personal life, but can also affect my working life, as well. Last week, for example, I felt like I was running around in circles all week at work simply because I wasn't exercising the discipline necessary to go to bed at a reasonable hour. It's not so much that I wasn't able to accomplish all of my assigned tasks for the week, but at times I simply felt as though a hurricane was spinning around me and I was never able to get my feet on the ground.
In order to try to become more disciplined, I thought through and wrote down what I would like my daily 'routine' to look like, primarily to be a guide for me as I think about how to make my days - and particularly my days off - most productive. I'll invite you into the crooked inner workings of my mind, giving you an example of what my "routine" for a Monday looks like:

6:30AM - Wake up/Shower
7:05AM - Leave Home
8:00AM-6:00PM - Work at the Mish
6:00PM - Leave work
7:00PM - Arrive Home
7:00PM-9:30PM - Personal Time
7:00PM-7:30PM - Cooking Dinner
7:30PM-8:00PM - Eating Dinner
8:00PM-9:00PM - Personal Bible Study
9:00PM-9:30PM - Journal/Prayer/Reading
9:30PM-9:45PM - Pray with Tyler
10:00PM - Bedtime

Hopefully I'll be able to use this as a model for a daily routine and not feel bound by this model (the struggle will be to not get locked into this, but rather allow this to provide the freedom to rest well but also get the most out of every day). I also scheduled in "Activities" on certain days to ensure some fun. I think this schedule should help with some personal struggles I've been going through, as well.

4-SQUARE

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with the popular playground game, 4-Square, but around Somerville, it's serious business.  We kicked off the springtime weather yesterday afternoon with a rousing game at the local playground, and played for more than 2 hours.  It was AWESOME!  I think at one point we had about 10 people playing:  Stephen and Rachel Thrasher, Amanda Wessel, Sara Oettinger, Nicole Vander Laan, Lindsey Baggett, Jenny Harris, Tyler, and myself.  It was a lot of fun, but also really funny to watch a bunch of mid-twenties guys and girls living it up on the playground.  Loads of fun - spring is here!

On busy-ness...

I'm not sure about other folks, but I find myself gravitating so often towards a tendency of busy-ness.  I'm not even sure if that's a word, or if that's how it's spelled, but I wanted to make a distinction between 'business' and the idea of being busy.  I am, of course, writing about the latter.  

Every two weeks, I spend 40 out of 96 hours at the Boston Rescue Mission.  Because we work 10-hour shifts, this means that I work 4 days in a row with a three-day weekend.  Of the remaining 56 hours, by tomorrow morning at 8:00am, I will have spent 30-32 hours sleeping.  That leaves 24 hours over the course of 4 days into which I tried to cram a truckload of things to do.  What did I do in those 24 hours?  I spent 3 hours cooking [gumbo with kielbasa, rice, tomatoes, onions and celery, and butterbeans for dinner on Monday night; fried biscuits for breakfast on Tuesday and Thursday mornings; some kind of upside down taco pizza that took a minute to heat up in the microwave for dinner on Wednesday night].  It took 2 hours for me to eat the things I had cooked.  I lost 6 hours to travel time, which seems like an unreasonable amount of time to be traveling to and from work, but I guess when I do the math and figure 40 minutes to work and 40 minutes back, you get about 6 hours over the course of 4 days.  In case you've lost count, that brings the hourly total to 11, which leaves 13 hours.  In the remaining 13 hours, I watched some television, studied the Bible, did Pilates, played basketball with an eight-year-old [a story for another time], visited a friend in the hospital, went to Bible study, took showers and got dressed.  

I am now waiting expectantly for the next 72 hours, into which I am already planning to pack even more events.  I already have something planned for Friday night, something for Saturday morning, something for Saturday night, and church on Sunday.  Something will probably happen on Sunday evening, although I'm not sure what it will be yet.

At this point, one might ask, "What the heck is this about?  Why is he writing about this anyway?"  Thanks for reading this far.  The point is this:  I think my tendency to gravitate towards being busy reflects something much deeper about myself.  First, I think it reveals an insecurity in being alone, wanting to find validation from people and wanting to stay busy in order to be comfortable.  Second, I think it reveals an inability to thrive in solitude, to really seek out the presence of the Lord in silence, and be rejuvenated by His presence.  Third, I think that in order to be successful, I must necessarily fill up every ounce of free time that I have so that you think I am either popular or independent or successful.  

The reality is this - I am insecure about being alone for long periods of time.  I do want to find validation from people.  I don't have to sit with my own insecurities or shortcomings if I'm not by myself.  Eighty percent of the time I do not thrive in solitude.  I am lazy, lethargic, and otherwise lustful.  I want you to think that I'm popular, that I'm successful, that I have all my ducks in a row, and that I know how to manage lots of different things.  And so I pile thing on top of thing until I'm balancing a wobbly Jenga tower by one tile, and wonder why life is unmanageable.  The idea of success that I have is a lie - it is the American Dream, the devil's scheme to make us forget our need and learn self-reliance.  And so I press on towards the three-day weekend, hoping to remember something about solitude, and finding the freedom to say no to something...anything.

No more BostonNOW!

The BostonNOW is no more.  Today marked the final day of the less-than-stellar "news"paper.  I, for one, am ecstatic.  However, it does mean that several of our residents have been laid off, and are now looking for new jobs.  Overall, though, I'm glad to see it go.

Safety

There are times in my life when the idea of safety really gets under my skin.  I hear people talk about 'being safe,' and want to shake them into taking risks and living lives that are 'dangerous.'  I want to walk out of my house without locking the doors, I want someone to mug me [so I can fulfill some sick macho desire in my heart to beat someone up], or I want to pack it all in and take my backpack 'into the wild.'  John Eldredge might speak about these things as good desires, desires that reflect God's nature to be adventurous or, worse, to be a 'risk-taker' [which, by the way, I do NOT endorse].  Others might call these things foolish, stating pertinent reasons why it is stupid to head out into the wild blue yonder without a plan or a friend [I endorse this; it is not wise to go out into the woods, particularly in unfamiliar territory, without a buddy], or why I should lock my doors because my roommate might not share my disregard for personal belongings.  

For more than a year, my ideas about safety have been challenged in a profound way.  We often speak about the safety of our community at the Mission, referring mostly to the healthy, thought-provoking, recovery-centric environment that we strive to create for our residents.  In this context, safety takes priority; it holds precedent in a profound way.  Unlike my personal desires to disregard my own safety, I am forced to consider the safety of the Mission's Community with the utmost regard.  This is a challenging thought for me, mostly because I often hear the word 'SAFETY' with a general degree of stigma.  

In concordance with the Mission's safety, a new thought arises: in order to ensure a positive recovery experience that gives our residents the best opportunities available to succeed and thrive in their recovery, safety has to be paramount.  No longer can safety hold a stigma, but it must be given the priority it deserves - our residents must have every opportunity to beat their alcoholism or addiction.  This happens, primarily, by providing residents with a chance to share openly and honestly in groups, by doing our best to remove the threats of drugs or alcohol being used in the house, and by ensuring that our residents feel cared for at every intersection of their lives.  

Do I still think about safety with a general disdain in terms of my personal life?  Absolutely.  However, the word safety has taken on a new importance when I think about it in the context of community.