I AM DAD


A Personal Dairy
of a family working and living in a mens rehabilitation unit.


By

Michael Christian.


INTRODUCTION

During the year 2000 I graduated from Baptist College where I studies missions, majoring in Evangelism and Church Planting. It was both a bitter and sweet time; sweet because I received the call to go in the anointing and had not one doubt about the fact that God had asked me to do it, bitter because my wife and I had the most difficult time while doing the training. I was moving ahead so quickly even though I tried to draw her along with me but the lag behind, the lack of money and the term 'theological' was too much for her to cope with.

I did the two years of study in eighteen months by working on through the long summer break doing research projects. This education helped me cope with other world views in the Church and helped me get to know who I was in amongst it all. A Chaplaincy style has come from it and in that a reduced dependency on church structure. However I took on the determination not to be one of those who after training went back to be little more than a pew warmer. I was determined to work full time in missions work.

This may not have been the will of God but more the will of a man wanting to be successful. I now know this but at the end of studies there came a time of having to accept the unemployment benefit and that was causing me to lose my peace and bounce of walls. I tried a job in a warehouse for a month but the need inside me to do the ministry work I had trained for wouldn't allow me to stay there, after a month I quit. Finally an advert in a newspaper drew us to work in a men's rehabilitation establishment. We agonised over the decision whether to accept the job if we were offered it because of the huge shift for our family of three dependant children from our large house and section to a tiny flat with up to forty others in clostraphobic surroundings. It was a huge decision to make when we can't say that God ever told us to do it. The signs were pointing that way but not a word from the Lord had me concerned.

On the night they rang to offer us the job if we wanted it we looked at each other and were not excited. The improved financial position was a major pull; free accommodation, free food, free power and phone, i.e. no bills to pay. If we didn't sell the house the rent would meet the mortgage and even though the pay looked really pitiful ($12,500/annum each) it was sufficient to give us surplus. Then in the midst of this phone call one of our daughters raised her arm with a triumphant "Yes". My wife then nodded affirmatively and I said with much reservation we'll give it a try. They wanted us to start on the 19th January 2001 so we had only the few weeks from Christmas to clean out and shift. The task was daunting but because of the nature of the job we were going to people rallied around and helped us. We had no idea of what we were getting ourselves in to.



CHAPTER ONE

SUMMER 2001

Wow! A month’s water has flowed beneath the bridge since my first visit to the farm.
Every time I pass over the Kaituna I wonder if there are any good fish in its deep
waters. The water problems still persist on the farm, the cause of the first heated
words between the manager and myself. An Ausie through and through, my stout little
bespectacled boss has a way with words that at times makes your soul shrivel up and
want to die - a taste of my own tongue not so long ago I guess. I am definitely now in
the business of men’s rehab and the honeymoon is over.

Our thoughts, and fears, before coming here now look at themselves in a mirror. Our
assumptions, some reflecting a perfect image and others blown away completely
distorted. Would our children fit in? Would there be good chemistry with the other
staff, and the manager? Could I manage with a factory environment? There were
many questions most we could not answer without actually doing it.

The first few weeks were great - I felt that we had found the job made for us, stress
free, laid back, casual were words adequate to describe the part I played. Training was
progressive and without dire consequences if I slipped up. Simply unlock in the
morning, be with the guys during the day, take them on outings and lock up again at
night. I was employed to supervise and love men who were wanting to, or made to in some cases, clean up their lives and be prepared for a return to independent living in society free of their old hangups and addictions.

My vision was of a great evangelist going around the churches like some pyromaniac
setting fire to congregations with the Lord in me. I even had words to support this
view but here I am one on one with guys coming off drugs, ex-prisoners, rastamen,
psyche patients with paranoia and anger. But the one thing I have noticed already is
that they are all just ordinary blokes with tender feelings underneath borrowed
clothing. I adopt them into my family and love them. I am Dad.

Murray came to us with a family history of epilepsy and a folder of poetry. He
carried it like a huge property investment, except his had a dioxin spill on it. A Moari
with a french sirname. He was in his mid thirties, balding, and well built, but his body
language said depressed, misery, hopelessness. Marriage was out because it might
pass his curse on to any children. He feared going anywhere incase he had one of his
weekly seizures and fell in front of a vehicle or train. He was continually speaking
suicide to end this thing at him. But he was so unsure he could not, on his own, make
a decision about anything, continually seeking opinions on his lot from everyone. In
all his month with us he never had a seizure and with our reinforcement finally made
a decision.

I found out the morning Murray left. I had invested a lot of time and effort listening
to his misery and turning it to hope. He believed in God but seemed to be trying to
force God to fix his problems once and for all, and because he believed God wasn’t
doing it he was angry at the divine Godhead. Now with the frustration of being
pressed to do a duty he (as I also) felt unfair, he had made his decision to make a
change, go south away from his whanau, and make a new life. I was a little hurt until I
realised that if God were working with him the incident created a perfect nudge to
take a hold of his own destiny without our crutches. His legs were sufficiently healed
to walk.

In this time we lost a few others. A young maori boy who received the intensity of
Murray’s ‘ministry of poetry’ left before I had a chance to get to know him. Another
young maori, who seemed really nice, began to buck the rules and got on the wrong
side of the manager with his tongue and ended up licking the distasteful experience of
the boot. Many of the house parents felt uneasy about the incident, that we had lost
someone we had loved without even the privilege of consultation over his plight. It all
happened over the weekend and we came back to find him gone. I think we all felt we
could have somehow done better for William and his psychological problems, but
how as yet we did not know.

Another incident with a runaway psyche resident during my duty weekend ended up with him returning to psyche ward seventeen at Tauranga. Jon, a tall, fit but intense middle aged man, was so concerned for his mothers well-being that his contact with her in the local town made her unwell. She was so sweet that honey dew almost dripped of her gracious white hair. She was frail and Jon was AWOL when a call came in concerning a prayer request in tears over Jon’s actions. I rang his mother asking if John was there to which she replied “No,” but then he entered the back door as we spoke.

I quietly talked to this petite widow by the van as Jon belligerently showered and
stalled as much as possible. Calming her worries as best I could my fellow staff
member, named John d. dealt with our wayward resident by offering choices to his
refusal to return with us. Police or ward seventeen. I was glad that he was better cared
for elsewhere because being new I didn’t need a frighteningly strong personality
causing problems with the other twenty guys in the hostel who seemed to be getting
on quite well.

By now a main player had established himself in the hostel. Grey is a slight 40
year old Australian with a No 3 haircut and large curly beard hiding the remnants of
what looked like a hair lip operation. Grey had so much energy and such a love to
enjoy life it made life hell for just about everyone around him. He told jokes as if
reading them from a book page after page, he kidded around touching, poking,
playacting, mock-fighting, asking for this and that, checking, prompting, nudging,
poking his nose into everyones affairs and stretching the limits of social acceptability.
If I have given you the feeling of being totally worn out by this you have grasped what
he did to me, and I couldn’t curb it by describing it to him. He couldn’t see what he
was doing, couldn’t understand it. He was blind.

Suddenly the preverbal dung that he had produced hit the fan, and the bitter water of
the manager baptised him you could say. Grey had his blinkers shattered and he
didn’t know what to do so he shut up completely, as if he took a vow of silence and I
mean no lip movement at all. Sometimes a grunt when he had to acknowledge
something. I was concerned for him that he had reacted too far and prayed that he
would find the middle ground we had desperately needed some weeks earlier for our
sanity. A week later he began to speak and act in a somewhat modified previous self
manner but certainly not as often. He was given responsibility during this of ‘Quality
Assurance’ at the factory and performed his task well. Grey was a good worker
with a quick mind for detail and had proved himself making trellising over the
previous few weeks. Unfortunately his real talents may lay in a more legal end of
field and would be a tremendous defence barrister. I reckon he’d even get the guilty
off scott free.

Ian is an interesting learning experience. He’s on very heavy medication for some
psychiatric problem and from time to time gets angry and locks himself way in his
single room with the windows closed until he comes right. He’s a heavy smoker who
can’t manage his habit at all well. He’s one of the few who have to have his tobacco
broken into fourteen lots each week and placed in his shaking hand morning and
night. His catch cry is “Are you going up to the office.” It’ll be four o’clock, his
tobacco time. His fingers are so brown with nicotine they are black in places. The
medications make him smell fowl at times and he has to be reminded to shower
regularly.

One day I got a glimpse inside Ian and found a farmer with fencing skills, a shepherd
from the back blocks he says. Mostly the doors are closed and he just grumpily
answers me and walks away deciding to sort of weed the garden, if you know what I
mean, and can be counted on to be back in time for smoko if not half an hour before.
We don’t push him, he’s one of 8 psychiatric beds we have permanently filled. Most
residents work and get paid for 5 hours a day but the likes of Ian may get credited
with five hours a week.

We feel sad about the tobacco consumption with all the guys but we are powerless at
present to do anything about it. There must be power to break this addiction - we pray
for it. The drugs and alcohol we do have power over, the rules mostly ensure that
although I’m told they have had to evict dealing residents before. Urine tests are done
occasionally when suspicions are roused. At present management believes all is clear
but a dream I had a few days ago concerning a drug deal I had become involved in
made me wonder and I shared it with the staff and residents not naming anyone in
particular because I didn’t know. One young fellow asked me in the van later if it was
him that I saw in the dream “cause if it was it was wrong.” What sparked that
comment I could only guess but guilt did come to mind. He was a user in the local
town and will have those contacts still available nearby but he says he’s got to clean
up his life. Some speak about loss of memory due to use, of being paid with 120grams
of cannabis a week running a nursery as a front for $1000.00 marijuana plants being
potted up out the back, of dealing to a string of younger dealers below. I like the
quote they have on the wall here “Using drugs is a little lift on the way down.”

I used a bit of marijuana in my youth and it was a very nice lift, laughing and having a
feeling of great happiness unlike alcohol which usually had you feeling ill in the end
and the next morning. There appeared no ill effects of smoking pot but the effect
wears off after a lot of use and you move on to bigger and badder drugs. Fortunately
for me my free supply moved away and I was forced to consider my highs and lows
and opted to leave the stuff alone after that because I had become dependant on it to
feel good. I had to find a better way and took more to fishing. It’s interesting to hear
this supposedly guilty lad say that his river fishing dropped away when he was using
and reckoned he didn’t need girls when on drugs.

The dynamics of the place are being affected by one of the house parents who is not
mentally that well at present. Robert has been here 18 months and wants to get out
but feels the Lord wouldn’t put him out on the street as it were so stays hoping
something else will come up before too long. He has suffered the bitter water of the
manager and is deeply hurting. Unfortunately he applied for the managers position at
the same time and missed out, and was offered a house parent position instead
which he took. His vision though accepted by the board to establish a native nursery
on the farm has met with frustration by the manager, possibly for sound budgeting
reasons which I do not fully understand, but none-the-less stiffles his progress and he
has lost heart. Even though he has established a small shade house and now has plants
well established the friction between the two spills out on others including the
residents. The boss gets kicked from above and kicks him, he kicks those under him,
they kick the lowest common denominator. If I remember rightly it’s called ‘kick the
cat syndrome’ and now he goes about with a ‘losers limp’. People are the most
interesting of God’s creations aren’t they.

I never understood what they meant when they interviewed us about this job having a
lot of ‘emotional stress’. I’m a quick learner it seems. If you can not unload these
continual personal issues which this job is all about it will have you limping. Several
instances have already occurred with me that unnerved me. One was in halting a
possible infringement, recently reiterated, of the rule ‘No eating in the van.’ Another
John, muscular, maturing, shaved head, black jeans, street tough kind of guy began to
open a snack bar beside me as I was driving to work. I tapped his arm and wagged my
finger at the bar. I could see his anger rise even before the sharp remark to my
following question about what he would like to do on the farm today, “I don’t give a
damn!” My spirit was instantly rattled, fear rose in me. But I lifted it to Jesus, bound
the enemy and presently it dissipated. His next remark some minutes later was polite,
kind and gentle. Thank God for understanding of spiritual warfare.

We houseparents get a day off after every three we work because of this emotional
stress. When if falls on a weekend each fortnight we get a long one off. The days are
generally long from 6.30am until 10pm weekdays and 11pm on Friday and Saturday if
you are duty person. Once a week we finish at 5pm when we like to take dinner out
on the beach or at least cook separately at home for the very important family time.
Twice a week we finish at 8pm, although still on standby so you can’t go away or
wash cars etc. This means you have to save up any personal jobs and do them on your
day off, there are no evenings to wash the car or fix something but then you aren’t
having to mow lawns either. The consequence of this is to have a bit of stress on the
day off sometimes trying to get everything done, deal with the children and get a
break. We’re learning to plan ahead and make sure we get away from the place,
which is also our home, because work is still outside our door all the time. We work,
play and eat with the residents. When you are off duty they will still want to talk and
it is sometimes awkward to break away to get the time you need for yourself without
damaging relationships.

The children, and we have three, I thought would miss out on my time which they do,
but this is adequately filled by having many brothers on hand, pushing trolleys around
and fixing bikes etc. Our 16 year old daughter is very outward and mixes with
the younger guys freely - most unlike the shy 15 year old girl that lives here as well.
Our ten year old daughter and nine year old son are simply little bro and sis’ to many of the guys. They too are very outgoing types but we are careful with their access to the men’s areas and recreation room. We have made it clear to them also what sort of behaviour by the
men is bad and how to distance themselves from it if it rises its ugly head here. Praise
God He is in control and appoints angels over all of us.

Many times I find my prayer life so important for different reasons than we were used
too. I have an uncanny confidence that God is in control, watching and doing on our
behalf. I do not worry overly. But there are real issues going on in these men’s lives
which I earnestly have in my heart. Consequently I need to continually unload them to
God, especially true at bed time. my wife and I share these issues but there is little
either of us can do about them. God is the one who I have confidence in who can do
what needs to be done. Mostly I do unload and sleep comes my way but occasionally I
need prayer support, which I know is happening, to make me feel that things are being
attended too.

Recently my wife took up the call to intercede for me in spiritual warfare when I was
still carrying the problem hours later. The result was that I had this change of mind, at
that same time that houseparents and I had prayed it through, that God was indeed
doing something about it. I didn’t need to try and make sure that the correction took
place, God was on the case and I should trust Him. It was a mental thought pattern
that had to be corrected in me and when it was the problem vanished in my mind. I
didn’t know until later that my wife had done the warfare at home at that very same
moment. What I am saying is that faith is not making oneself believe it because the
Bible says so, it is believing it because you know in your spirit that it has happened.

Yesterday something really neat happened after an awful morning when the
undercurrents between the guys seemed ready to blow up. Mick, 22, dark, handsome,
mature sounding deep voice, came to me at the end of his tether, ready to belt
someone. It was like Jesus telling the waves to cease and they did. I had listened to
him before tell his life story, a state ward, fostered, girl pregnant at fourteen and
kicked out of school, always in trouble fighting, drugs, booze, commercial fishing,
growing dope, dealing. He’d been there and he was asking me for help. I was as much
in need of help frustrated by the inadequacies of this place, too many rules and too
little love that does anything. Some love lacks adequate action and I was a guilty as
any. I listened, then with tearful eyes told him of Job Chapter 1 and the discourse
between God and Satan over Job. That all these things which made him want to hit
someone, that had accrued that morning, extra chores and people telling him what to
do might be a test like Job’s. That Satan would love nothing more than to see him
burst out, be kicked out and in defeat return to deal drugs for Satan, again successful
in evil ways but a failure in his own upbringing’s Christian eyes.

The injustices of the battle in his own mind melted away right there, He consented to
a hug, “You don’t know how long its been since I’ve had one of those,” he stated as
tears welled in his eye now. I turned around twice and there he was not just doing the
chores he before couldn’t cope with but doing them with excellence. I said to him as
he finished with sweat pouring off his face “I bet that feels really good!” “It sure
does,” was his reply. Victory over the enemy is so sweet only when you know what
great a loss is avoided.

That evening the lad next to him began accusing another and I asked Mick to have a
talk with him instead of doing it myself because I knew he had learnt that lesson very
well. He did such a good job that the two opponents were chatting sweetly together
again. my wife and I wanted these guys to experience a Pentecostal service and we
took two vans down town at 6.30pm, quite a contrast to the Baptist conservative
morning service four went to. It was great with several wanting to go again next
week, something we couldn’t promise because we weren’t to be on duty. At lights out
that very same evening Mick stated that with my hand on his back at the meeting he
gave his life to becoming more than a believer in God - he committed to become a
follower of Jesus Christ. Praise God, ain’t He great.

CHAPTER TWO

EARLY AUTUMN 2001

The Kaituna has been running brown at times these last few weeks. It is today the first
day of Autumn and the rains have come early, daily, and wet. It would seem that this
is a monsoon region the way the wet kept up its humid drenching for ten day on end.
The farm has become flush with green after the dry stalks of summer have been eaten
off and replaced by tender new shoots and spouted seed. The patches of dust have
become a pasture again, the tiny crickets blacken the doorways at night and lay dead
in their droves around my work boots.

As for me I have made my first visit to the local Pastor. The burden of my job I could
cope adequately with but the extra burden of my immediate boss weighted heavily on
me. I needed to know if what I was feeling and doing was valid. To my surprise I
found that all who had come before me had faced this same issue with and lost.
One had left, another asked to leave and now one of the house parents seems set to leave after a year and a half of anguish over this thorn in his side. To top it of John d., our casual house parent, has the day before his planned finish date, been escorted off the property in another blow up. Not only is the honeymoon over but the marriage is in trouble. I was told that one houseparent took legal action against the manager over it and they reached a settlement out of court. Christianity is such an awkward thing at times.

Something spoken to me by Jeff, an upright and transparent man of wisdom wrought
from the sculptors chisel and sandpaper of years of pastoral work, struck me from
behind as it were, and I sat there trying to slot it in to my own world view. “He may
perceive an intellectual like yourself as a threat.” I had always seen myself as a simple
country boy but now I was being re-pigeonholed. I guess this is the change that has
happened after two years of university level study at Baptist College. Yes, I could see
myself better able to understand the human condition, infact immensely interested in
the human condition. I had picked up the fact that people operate out of a variety of
world views.

Ray is a study in this very issue. He is a street person from Auckland who has
ended up in prison. His black hair is in long dreads and he has few teeth showing in
his occasional smile. His skin is dark, as his teeth. His bones just covered with skin
and his stance and walk rather effeminate for the male of the species. He has a walk
that comforts his pincushion buttocks, a result of so many injections for cannabis
withdrawal medication. He complains of the pain always at work. We spoke at lunch
the other day after a comment about slave labour here on the farm, about his life on
the streets, living on the dole because though he had gone for many interviews his
hair he believes eliminates him as a possible candidate for the job.

Ray had it all worked out, that the $180 benifit he received through his mothers address
each week could feed his stomach and drug habit as long as he didn’t have
accommodation to pay for. So he lived in vacant buildings and under peoples houses -
yes, he could hear people walking around above. He used free suits and other clothing
from the city missions free table and threw them away when they were dirty, and ate
at the mission table on occasion with his street friends. He’d take a $2 bus ride to the
beach at Mission Bay sometimes and collected the long cigarette butts from the
ashtrays on Queen street to satisfy his tobacco needs. He claimed he liked his
unhurried life, yearned for the city again, accepted this was his life and enjoyed it. I
blind-sided him with a question, almost surgically creating a space in his world view
for hope after he said he couldn’t do anything for lack of money. “What would you do
if you had the money?” He had no dreams, travel overseas was ruled out because of
cannabis convictions, but promised to get back to me when he thought it through. He
said he didn’t like people feeling sorry for him because he was happy with the way he
lived - you could see that in the way he desperately wanted to get back to it even
though he was serving parole with us.

We’ve lost a few members of the family, my friends, this last week. Mick and
Grey have been evicted for their verbal contest with the manager. I was close to
both although I am happy with the peace we have now that Grey have gone. His last
day was awful. He flung so much venom around that it was affecting the other
residents and myself. You love these guys and when they hurt you hurt with them. I
had to draw out every once of this supposed intellectual ability I had acquired to ease
him down off his pedestal. By the middle of the day he was not hissing venom
anymore and he had found out the precise nature of his problem with other people, as
best as I could describe it. He was a curious George so ‘in-your-face’ with pranks,
jokes and other people’s business that it wore us out. Though I loved Grey I was
ready for an end. He was a caring man but he just could not live and let live. Finally
after two and a half months here, head bloodied by hitting the brick wall of the manager,
he flew to accusations of lies and deceit and was arranging his own departure even
before his eviction. I can’t help thinking it didn’t need to happen, that the red rag our
manager waves is not only unnecessary but provoking failure for these types. Like
poles of a magnet do indeed repel each other.

Mick’s eviction wasn’t a lot different except he took it upon himself to tackle the
manager on behalf of all future residents over what he believed was fraudulence in
the contract procedure he signed on arrival. He, apparently upon the advise of the
ex-house parent John d. went above the manager to a board member as advocate, he
lost, got the red rag and blew apart over my long weekend off. The Monday morning I
arrived home to Grey and Mick both wanting to spill their festering lot on me. All of
the peace and joy I had gathered over the weekend at Lake Rotoma was stolen from
me before I had a chance to share my ‘up’ with anyone. Mick is interesting though in
that he wants to become a house parent one day and has been back reconciling
himself with the manager twice, though not achieving a great deal I think. He’s
apparently living in the caravan park nearby and has picked up a casual job at the
sawmill. He’s been off drugs now for two and a half weeks and I desperately want to
continue our interaction because I found him picking up the Lord and wanting to
follow Him with me away from his past life. I think he will and see the seed and skills needed of an evangelist planted in his being.

This week is the week of meetings. Every fortnight on a Tuesday we have an
afternoon staff meeting which usually goes quite well. I brought up the pain of the
losses we have suffered - five friends gone now in five weeks. The pain not so much
that they have been evicted but the feeling of being irrelevant in the decision. As a
house parent you love these fostered children not because we are being paid to but
that they integrate into the fabric of our general family here at The House. We eat,
work, live and play together as I’ve said and as the weeks pass I bond with them.
When the eviction takes place it is almost always over a confrontation with the
manager. Consequently the numbers stay at a lower level than could be sustained
because incoming usually equals the outgoing. Admittedly some will not be able to be
rehabilitated but I feel that some could have been better helped with a modified
approach. Part of that pain I feel could be alleviated by this modification to process
by a group decision making over each resident’s handling rather than the general
unplanned series of incidents. The feeling is that identifying the issue and a combined
agreed approach could perhaps snuff out the clouds that cause these tornadoes which
sap so much of our energy needed to love these guys back to health.

Gerry made a profound step forward recently after a year or so here. He is a middle
aged psychiatric patient, short, heavy built with a gnarly half shaven head and face,
childlike in his need of praise. He asked if he might try feeding the monster machine
that cuts and joints the product at the factory. He blew us all away with the
speed at which he picked up the job and the pressure he put on us at the other end
finishing and packing. Gerry is ready for transfer into the units to begin a step
towards self reliance and it is the steps such as he has just made that show urgency to
the move.

I mentioned before that I had dreamt that I was involved in a drug deal and at the time
I asked management how clean we knew we were here at The House. He was
quite confident with periodic urine tests are used keep those sent by the courts on
their toes for fear of testing positive and being sent to prison. But this Friday night
after an outing to the hot pools I became aware that one resident was offering drugs to
some of the younger residents. I informed Mark who was the duty House Parent and
followed young Robert out to the orchard to pick an orange from the trees between
the hostel and the Kiwifruit orchard we have behind. I made a statement as we found
ripe fruit and began peeling, “There’s drugs in the house isn’t there Robert!” The
young man looked hard into my eyes for what seemed a long pause then replied
“Yeah - how did you know?” I told him with a poker face that God reveals to us what
we need to know remembering that I had shared my drug deal dream with them at
reflections one morning. Robert then challenged me if I knew who it was and I
simply replied with an affirmative. “Who is it then?” he challenged again. I replied
“Ray.” His affirmation was all I needed to remove any doubt and move on the
issue.

Mark and I discussed this knowledge together, deciding whether to search his room,
call the Police or what to do. We decided we’d best have a little talk with Ray and he went to escort him up to the office. As he entered Ray began to get edgy asking “Who was in the office? What is it you’re going to do? What do you want? In answer to his question I blurted rather undiplomatically “We want your stash!” To me, being nieve, it said we know all about it and simply want to get it out of circulation but to Ray it meant breaking parole and return to prison, passing go but without collecting $200, as they say in the game.

He tripped out completely, denying everything ofcoarse, but after a brief think and
subsequent welling up of anger that such a thing could even be though of him, he
stormed out of the office and through his bedroom selecting something white out of
his drawer and saying he was going to phone his parole officer but exited stage left
while I went right to the phone area. We can not restrain these guys because of the
assault laws so the police were informed. The boys saw him go into the orchard,
where we later found out that he had his stash in the shelter belt, and again later quite
hilariously seen running towards the main road trying to hide his face with his arms
over his head from the headlights of a car squealing its tyres nearby. You had to laugh
even though it was sad for Ray. The Devil had entered the camp,” one of the
boys stated, “and we don’t need that sort of thing in here!” I think the Devil
underestimated the guys strong desire to be rehabilitated under the covering of Jesus
Christ. Ray didn’t really want to be rehabilitated, just out of prison but stuffed it
up over a packet of ‘Cabbage’ as they call the poor quality Marijuana leaf. I had
learnt a lot from my street-wise Rastafarian aquaintance. Now he was gone.

Sam surrendered his life in tears to the Lord - now there’s a man who wants to be
rehabilitated - seeing those indelible dreams for days beforehand as I have
experienced in the past. Praise God the victory is in Christ! For every rotten thing
there is an equal and opposite beautiful moment in the Lord. This seems to be the way
it is in the house. Grey had begun it by suggesting Sam read the book of John’s
Revelations. Afterwards he out of fear, wanted to be baptised immediately. Over the
weekend he suffered what he called “attacks from the devil” and asked for prayer.
The other couple on duty came and prayed with my wife and I together over Sam.
We are of the same vain it seems praying in tongues and expecting God to be
powerful. He was. The anointing came from my feet it seemed and as I spoke it another House Parent felt it go through her. My wife was glued to the floor in her usual form of
‘Divine power encounter’ and the other House parent became emotional, thanking the
Lord for His favour. We didn’t know it at the time but and I wondered what Sam
was feeling. Later he described it as the most enjoyable high he had ever had, eyes
fluttering and shaking all over, shedding a few tears. He was awe-struck and big eyed,
saying that it was amazing. The match had been struck and the kindling burning, all
we had to do was fan the flames and stoke the fire. Praise God he’s showing the signs
of a hungry new babe, asking questions, wanting to know all he can about this new
thing.

John Dally, jovial, stout, muscular, tattooed and short cropped hair, caught the train
out of here so to speak, after over a year of rehab. Apparently he entered a frail
insecure drug addict but today his biggest problem is facing the outside world all on
his own. The brake was coming but he had become institutionalised here and knew
he’d have to face his fears eventually. The way it happened was a lesson in itself. At
the factory Eric who generally overseas the place was calling the guys in for their
morning brief and John Dally almost thinking aloud muttered his fed-upness with the
whole thing. Eric took the stance of saying he was sick of the constant mumbling. It
was a red rag to a bull and John charged back with verbal expletives, the usual ‘F’s’
and ‘B’s’ to which Eric suggested he go sit in the van if he wanted to carry on like
that. John did. Essentially this is not Eric’s role to perform. He is manager in charge
of production and we House Parents were the supervisors of the men.

Later I was told by House parent Robert that John was in tears over his woes
knowing the time had come. I suggested we pray and shut ourselves away in the
smoko room for some time interceding for John and Robert’s own woes with
management. Later John came in after talking to the manager on the phone, and simply made
a statement of apology to Eric and that he did not want to discuss it. He was due for
an interview after lunch at the House but on returning went to the office and asked for
the rest of his money so he could depart from the establishment for good. He had been
forced to make his decision and within hours had found a bed in the caravan park
with Mike m.

Mike m spends all of his spare time with recently discharged assistant house
parent John d who lives with two other ex-rehab men in the town nearby. At
a glance it would seem as if God had set up John d, even though he was
escorted off the premises by management, as a Godly man for sure to be the bridge
for these guys as they go out. Mike m rang and asked to be taken out fishing and
so I did in the boat at Newdicks Beach a few night later. It sounds as if he is doing OK
with his work, church affiliation and association with John d. God works in
mysterious ways even beside the strange workings of men.

I have enjoyed this work and this ministry over the last two weeks. God’s grace is
indeed sufficient for me. Unfortunately God’s grace was not enough for John Dally.
At 1.30am, under the influence of over a dozen beers, he broke into the hostel and
attacked young Robert in bed, assaulting him with a torch and leaving a large bruise
on his forehead. Charges have been laid with the police and the boys interviewed.
John admitted his guilt for exacting retribution for Robert’s actions towards other
residents, which those residents say did not need any retribution. The police asked
the manager if he’d drop the charges. Sobered up he was apparently extremely remorseful,
but his actions were according to the manager,inexcusable and sufficient to need a strong message sent out that this kind of behaviour will in no way be tolerated or excused. The manager declined.

CHAPTER THREE

MID AUTUMN 2001

I haven’t seen much of the Kaituna this month. Autumn is surely here and
temperatures noticeably cooler after the humid tropical weather of the summer. I have
been kept away from the farm for some reason, only visiting for the odd chore now
and then. Perhaps we are being rotated, this month is Marks for the farm. Perhaps I
was getting too authoritative, having to much of a hand in its operations or the Manager
wants me more in touch with the whole of the operations so I have spent a lot of time
at the factory and some time doing firewood.

However I do know that of the three maden sows that have been mated two are
showing in pig and one seems baron. The one I put in the farrowing pen last month
still hasn’t done more than begin nest building. We look forward with baited breath of
news of a litter any day. We have had to source extra feed for the pigs with a growing
litter and two more to come. We are trying out fish bodies from Sanford’s, boiling
them up and mixing them with a yoghurt mixture. The cows continue to produce a
third of a bucket of milk once a day and the hens their supply of eggs. Five fat cattle
have been sent to the Freezing Works and the rest coming along well on lush autumn pastures. The calf with the jaw abcess I operated on last month has now returned to normal and drenched with the others for worms. The garden keeps producing but is still
inadequate, the potato crop especially now all dug being pitifully below expectations.

We have two new babes in the kingdom however. Young Jesse came to me wanting
to give his life to the Lord. He had seen and heard the change in Sam and the fire
touched Jesse also. As Sam, Mark, Mel, my wife and I prayed he was set free and
spoke in tongues, albeit hesitantly. The fervour was such that Graham, saying he
loved the Lord and had given his life to Him years earlier also accepted prayer so I
asked Sam and Jesse to come in on it. Jesse had a vision of the Devil standing
between a dead looking Justin and himself, revealing his spiritual death and the
reason perhaps for his thought disorder and lies. Praise God for such a profound and
immediate awakening in Jesse. In the space of a few minutes he’s almost fully armed
and effective in the army of the Lord.

Robert is a loveable multi-mix of irritations to everyone around. The son of aged
parents, suffering a kind of stutter and exuberance, immature and probably ADD or
ADHD, he treated them very poorly until they no longer could handle him. Yet this
boy in a man’s frame is as devoted as a well trained dog whenever there’s something
you need to get done. He just loves to be my right hand man where ever I go, would
love to be the hero and save someone’s life, make a mark and be noticed. At the
medal ceremony I know his youthful chest would rise to the occasion. My aim and
prayer is to see this man through the year, matured and free in the Lord, until his
probation ends here. It is a great privilege to be a finger, so to speak, in the hand of
God that carries him into his destiny. My latest prayer over him was baptised in my
own heart felt tears. If that which is written in scripture is true, ‘what you sow in tears
you will reap in joy,’ we should see from tnose tears much jubilation in the future.
Though Robert was not ready to yield to the Lord completely he was
happy to be prayed for and seemed to be overcome with the laughter that is often part
and parcel of revival meetings. He is claiming that the Holy Spirit is at work in him
and the Lord has attested in me to that being the truth.

The fire didn’t stop there though, within days Murphy was touched and surrendered
his life to Jesus. He had been home for the weekend and had come back very
withdrawn asking for help from the ladies. He had returned to his old habits, was now
seeing demons and they frightened him immensely. He asked for prayer so the team
all surrounded him as he knelt on the floor. Murphy’s dark Maori features bent low
humbly asked for forgiveness and for Jesus to come into his heart. As good as his
word in Revelations the Lord came quickly. There was revealed ‘a bone of
contention’ in his family and we separated him from that and he received a special
gift of worship through Mel who was really enjoying the anointing present, singing
over him a song of the Lord. You should see him the next day, as happy as a man can
be, apparently free of his demons and praising God!

All of this time big strong, ebony skinned David, having rededicated his life to the
Lord the night Mike m gave his life, was battling with Philistines and his
confessed love for the world. The Holy Spirit was braking him of even the smallest of
errors, even spitting chewing gum out of the window of his car as he travelled to
work. He cried for days as the Lord took him through books of broken men whom
God had used to change the world. He showed me that with all that he had learned as
a seller of body-building he could preach like any of the televangelists, but he
believed that was not where God was at. Wow! He was good at it too, like a maori
warrior laying down a challenge to visitors on a marae. He was dynamic, powerful,
explosive. He said he could do that but it was all human training, it was in brokenness
that he was being shown the way ahead. I witnessed him in brokenness preaching the
truth to Mark and Mel in the office one night. They seemed to miss the point but I
knew where he was coming from and he was true, his tears and words were it seemed,
directly from the throne room of heaven. He was the fifth awakened in a fortnight, the
Holy Spirit was and is at work in our midst with power. This, as I had been previously
told, is the power of a fresh breeze blowing in a man’s mind and a gentle zephyr in a
man’s heart. Long may this linger with us.

Our Manager has been better lately also. Since that night of outburst during the staff
meeting there has been change. That night tempers were lost and heart conditions
revealed. It was ugly. Battles were fought in the heavens. Hours of intercession taken
up on behalf of The House, said to be ‘His Place’ meaning God's place. Maybe, that
incident was God’s way of causing change in the heavenly places. Maybe, its ugliness
had to be exposed so that everyone would take up their spiritual armour and spiritual
weapons and fight for what we all believed in, the welfare of men in rehabilitation.
Maybe this precipitated change that had to come about so that Sam, Jesse, Robert,
Murphy and David so far, could have power from on high to make change in their
lives. The boil on the manager's spirit may now be lanced and although raw still surely
it will, with God’s grace, come to heal.

While all this was going on it seemed as though the demons around here were
somewhat agitated. Ian would probably be our most serious metal health resident.
Although others take a lot of pills Ian is a veritable pill store. If you shook him I’m
sure he’d rattle. His demons tell him that everyone is against him, turning away any
women that want to be with him, conspiring to hurt him through the Mongrel Mob or
his own hands, thinking that those around him don’t like him, that the police are
useless unable to do anything about it. He is asking to go back to Ward 17 but nothing
happens so that he gets very frustrated. The powers that be have suggested he go to
Harmony House a psychiatric home in Tauranga, where his friend Mark is going to be
with the mother of his two children. Mark and his lady friend both got into drugs and both
ended up with duel disorders, drug and psyche. There children are apparently
extremely bright and fostered out but these two are effective simpletons. Ian got the
idea that Mark was following him to Harmony House when in actual fact the opposite
is true.

Ian’s demons have been angrily acting out lately swearing and accusing everyone in
their way. Fortunately he has never been violent apart from occasionally slamming
the door behind him as he goes to his bedroom. He walked away from the farm
several times over a week and finally it was decided rather than going after him as we
had been we would let him walk. That was the last time he did so, his legs were a bit
sore by the time he got back to The House 18 kms later. They think he is not sick
but seeking attention and the Psychiatrist, an elder ex-eastern block gentleman, seeing
him the other day gave him ‘a jolly good talking too’ along the lines that they both
were unlikely, at their age and looks, to get a twenty year old woman wanting to date
either of them and that no pill will fix his life - it was Ian who would fix his own
life if he took hold of himself. Sometimes when he’s in a good mood, which is not
often, you see a smile on Ian’s face which could light up a dying man’s heart. It is in
there but he’s bound up in a crotchety old fellow who just wants to be free of it. I pray
about and for him but there’s nothing. It’s as though one day Jesus was saying “I can’t
help someone who doesn’t want my help.” Many are called but few are chosen I
guess. I have had him out with us fencing where he excells because of his past
experience on sheep stations. He is really happy in that sort of atmosphere.

CHAPTER FOUR

LATE AUTUMN 2001

The river has been up again this last month. Heavy rain again brought down muddied
waters and rose several metres up its banks but not so high that the stop banks along
the lower flats had to be concerned. Since the river originates out of Lake Rotoiti’s
clear waters I can only imagine the dirty brown infuence has come from its tributaries
in the coastal regions. Certainly the crystal clear stream nearer home was also brown
with clay and debry at the same time. Someone said that over 150mm of rain was
recorded in less than 24hrs and I believe it. Water was running off our upstairs deck
by the door, down the wall and into my leather and gum boots in the carport doorway.
Fortunately I checked them and was able to get them dry by the time I started work in
the morning which dawned sunny and warm.

Violance against House Parents is I guess always on the agenda with men in Rehab.
In the first three months however it’s absence had allowed me to feel complacent, it
was not something I thought about. The Manager stopped me from storing our gift caravan
at the farm because there had been physical outbursts there at times, so that I had some
idea it was a possibility at some stage. Where it came from was quite unexpected and
frightening to the House Parent involved. Our youngest resident Jesse visited his
home in the town with H.P. Robert and in the course of events went literally mad,
taking to Robert with a knife and threatening to do the manager in also. The police,
councellors, parents and staff were involved at the police station. The first I knew
about it was upon my arrival home from the factory. Jesse bearing a huge smile on his
face came towards me with a garbled tale to tell. As we came within reasonable
conversation distance I restarted him to hear “I went mad today and tried to stab
Robert.” It was a few moments that I realised that he was taking about H.P. Robert
and not the one he shares a room and on many occassions insults with. He seemed
proud of it in his inability to come to grips with what he had done, infact apparently
he wasn’t able to remember the incident immediately afterward. The manager apparently
spoke quite bluntly to Jesse’s father about doings things with his son, hugging him
and making him feel part of the family rather than rejected. Much of his problem
stems from his dying and resusitation at birth and perhaps exassibated by his parents
temporarily seperating and a girl being born while his mother was cohabitating with
another man. Jesse may have organic brain damage. He used to be violent towards
his half sister when at home and because of this has I think had piled on him so many
restrictions and loss of privelidges that they have become entrenched and form a
rejection. He’s a likable elf like lad who flips between depression and fun,
childishness and wisdom, hard work and sloth. I encourage and councel him, hug him
when he will allow and pray with him and for him often. It seems he is spiritually
pulled to his home but when he gets there behaves demonically. He knows this but
can’t do a thing to change it. I took to cutting the spiritual bindings to his home,
prayed over his new bed, now in a single room to reduce the pressures on him in
rehab, and hope that God is working on his case and in control.

The other two guys in the room Jesse shared are up and down like yoyo’s. Sam is
bouncing like the proverbial rubber ball into full out hunger for the Lord and
disinterest. I think it is over his love for gambling and ‘Lotto’ his worldly god. I have
taken to show up the evil of this hope-of-salvation by other means than Christ. He’s
throwing away $10 at a time in the hope of winning $5M and saying that he’d give
lots of it away to V.H. and Church or whatever in an attempt to valadate his addiction.
An addiction because he’s admitted regretably throwing thousands away in the past
on slot machines and such. To that add thousands on speeding fines and drugs and
you see what a mess he’s been in. Currently he owes $2000 in fines but has
fortunately had that converted to 100 hours community service by the courts, which
he can work of on Saturdays here at V.H. over the next three months. He says his
dreams are faded by comparison and can’t remember them. It’s as if God is saying
“No kingdom of God while you worship these other gods, Gad and Meni.” These are
the pagan deity spoken of in Isaiah 65:11 where Gad actually means ‘Good Fortune’
and Meni ‘Number’.

Robert has had a perposeful wake up call from the manager and the probation officer over
taking my bike and going to the footbal club and having a beer. His criminal record
lists several bike taking incidents and this is one he needs to learn to overcome. After
these events he came and asked to speak to me. I put him off until he came back from
‘NA’ Narcotics Anonymous, at 9.30pm. He talked very maturely with me in the
kitchen, not knowing where to turn with the pressure being put on him by management,
looming prison term if he doesn’t get it right, his room mates bugging him, and his
own inability to change himself. I was struggling to know what to say so I mostly just
listened. I asked if he really believed God was there and he confessed his doubt. I
suggested it was faith that he should pray for and he just burried his head in his hands
in achnowledgement. He spoke of a photo his mother took in a plane to Australia
during a lighning storm. An image that looked like a person in white, maybe even
perhaps God. I suggested perhaps even an angel. Then Robert began to be touched
spiritually. A shiver, goose bumps and side hair on his face standing up. Without a
prayer, without any enquiry on my part, God showed up bringing waves of anointing
over him, stronger and stronger each time just as I had experienced in the past. The
fire was still with us after a week or so of seemingly dead embers. Praise God! He’s
so faithful. Now I know there’s going to be change, who knows how but if God
touches a man like that He’s certainly to make a difference as He had for me. I look
forward to a new ability on his part to self-control.

Continually I am amazed at what God is doing around me. Form time to time I am
confronted with a new angle on life in the service of Christ. While working on a
docking saw with Roger I had a new perception of a most taken for granted aspect of
my make-up. Roger was unable to function in his role of taking the lengths of timber I
had cut and sorting them into their various cubby-holes. I was then not only running
the complex task of cutting out knots, bows and imperfections but also sorting them
to size with my left hand, giving them to him and pointing to the relevant place for
Roger to stow them. At that moment I had an appreciation of the gift that God had
given me of intellegence, a sound and functioning mind. At that moment it was so
real that I made a covenant of sorts with God that I would use it to the best of my
ability in His service. Up until then I only saw in myself mediocrity, but after I saw a
gift, a talent that scripture says has expectations of investment in the kingdom of God.
I guess that was part of what Pastor Geoff was talking about when he spoke about
the manager perceiving me an “Intellectual”. But I know the truth, before I knew God I so
lacked wisdom. It is only in knowing Him and studying under Him, both privately and
at College, that I have gained even the basics of understanding.

This just about completes our first phase of our time here at The House. Our first
week off looms around the corner. Talk of hitting the wall and burn out come from the lips
of our Manager. I must admit there are times when it all seems a bit much. I have
become their confidant and councellor on numerous occassions and there’s talk of a
councellor coming in to talk the pressure of us House Parents in this area. I do not
know how it will alleviate the times when it all falls to bits at work and I am picking
up the weights off a man’s life to unburden their mental load. The battle is indeed all
in the mind. If a man can’t function it is in varying degrees a mental condition,
whether it be outside thoughts coming in from the enemies camp or chemical
imbalances inside the brain. Sometimes I can ‘see’ as it were the demon, but often it
is much more vague, hidden in a whole lot of words and thoughts. I pray for more
knowedge, the kind that comes from God, so called words of knowledge that are keys
to unravelling the truth about each man’s situation. But then on thinking of that I
remember Roberts visitation, his unsolicited anointing, and I wonder if I really need
to know. When the fire is about no amount of counselling can achieve more. The
battle in the mind can be won simply with a fresh breeze of faith and understanding
about the greatest personal saviour in the universe, Jesus Christ. All we need to do in
times like these is to commentate, explain what is happening to them and thank God
that we are priveledged to be near Him while He works. I love that. I love to witness
and feel the touch of God at work.

CHAPTER FIVE

EARLY WINTER 2001

The river runs brown and is at its highest level I have yet seen, overlapping its banks
and covering some acres beside the bridge on the way to the farm. The grass is in high
gear readying itself for the demand during the short slow days of winter. Frosts are
about to descend on us not only slowing growth and increasing the kiwifruit sugar
levels but also burning away greanery. The porkers are fast reaching killable stage and
the 21 piglets fattening about to be weaned of their mums, now razerbacks with
floppy udders. I am back into the fray.

I found the water pump out of action again on my return. Against the advise of a
house parent who said the system wouldn’t operate without it, I disconnected the
lower ‘ram’ pump and its failing pipe work from the system on a trial to see if the top
‘ram’ would feed the farm by itself. It did and has continued to do so since, thank
God! Another litter of five piglets caught us all by surprise in the paddock with the
huge black sow who has put the wind up me, attacking me as I handled her piglets in
her pen. She’s probably three times my weight and as long as I’m tall. the manager took some
time off for the later part of my first week back so it was an interesting first week and
ending in a very quiet long weekend duty with Mark. The Kiwifruit guys were
working on the Wednesday ANZAC Day, friday and Saturday, and with the rest on
outings it left only a couple on the premises to keep an eye on so felt a bit
house-bound by Saturday night.

Such a turbulant time our break away. All of the old thoughts suddenly rushing back
as a space opens to once again evaluate where things are hung. It’s like a tidy up time
after three months of just getting on with what you have to get done. I guess I really
haven’t had a chance to take stock but here it was confronting me, the old unanswered
questions are back again seeking solutions. Was I meant to take this job? What
happens to the previous evangelistic work we were doing - who takes care of that? An
inner pressing to once again take up greater evangelistic thrust. Questions of how
ministry is to take shape around my partner and family. Can it ever be as I think it
should be? It began even before we left on holiday with ‘urges’ inside to do even
more evangelism and the enemy came in to try and cast me down over teenage
parenting issues which were never fully ironed out. Teenage ideas of parental
servatude I could do without!

However, on the third day I resurfaced with a resolve that I was not the slag the devil
would have me believe I was and that certain individuals needed a bit of a talking too
to curb their wanderings into parental dishonouring. Otherwise I read a book of some
war stories purchased from the second hand bookshop in Whangamata and a book on
Zachariah which I found in a garage sale on our last weekend. This was a real
blessing as I had been saying that I would like read a bit of theology while on holiday
and there it was on a shelf just across the road for just $2.00.

I was keen to get back to see what had become of the guys at the Hostel after so much
blobbing out, sleeping and reading. The whole scene had taken on a new light with
some profound changes, the main one being that the Kiwifruit season had begun
taking seven of our guys out picking. Sam, Te Ngarahu, Murphy, Hayden and
George had made a good start but Robert and Lyle had dropped out. Robert being
sacked for giving a bit of finger gesture to the Indian supervisor in response to being
told to speed up. Sam, Murphy and Hayden, being young, were thriving being back
at work again, loving the self-esteme and possibly earning over $700 a week. Te
Ngarahu and George being older and away from work for so long were having to get
their bodies used to the physical exertion.

Ian and Mark have left for another mental health establishment as planned, which
has taken out that lower order that are unable to rehabilitate. However, Jim has come
back to stay after his initial one night stand several weeks ago. Initially he wouldn’t
eat with the other guys and after a reasonable beginning has not taken to work very
well. I think he has a people phobia after being a recluse for so long, but is getting
better as he now eats with the others. His close cropped hair, motorcycle boots and
patent leather jacket give him a rather ‘Gestapo’ like appearance as he marches back
and forward in his indecision. I heard that Jim once owned his own farm until this
mental health breakdown happened in the late ‘80’s early nineties. Having Graham
leave the hostel for the units a few weeks earlier leaves Jim the only one really in his
category. He got a bit stroppy the other day over doing the dishes with Justin and
stormed away in a state of offense.

My attitude change has been noticed on my return. I had come back with a resolve to
put in the next three months and then what only God knows. I couldn’t see beyond
that time frame. But this is a logical mental statement that had little spiritual force
behind it. In our placement here we were never absolutely sure this was God’s
positioning for us - more of a paid employment in ministry to do with Him. Ten days
later I was called in to the manager to discuss my attitude to work. Tackled with some
half a dozen issues he had accumulated against me, some rightly some wrongly, I was
searching for ways to communicate my compromised state. Once again his tone was
uncharitable and again I asked him if it were necessary to speak with me in such
confrontational tones. I turned the tables and also spoke of his own troubled state
since coming home from holiday. Neither of us, for various reasons, had received the
lift we should have while away. I did hear also that he had received another speeding
ticket which might this time jeopodise his ability to continue driving. The fishing
which was important to him was bad again also. We ended with the air cleared and on
good speaking turms again. I felt as if we had both confessed our errors and cleared
up some false beliefs and walked away clean. For that I’m thankful now but at the
time I just wanted to hand in my notice and get back to college to complete the soon
to be available degree. I did say to him that I had enough of his saying I was heading
for burnout, that he was giving it a home to burn me out. I still believe that he is
reading the bags under my eyes as signs of burnout rather than the fact that I have had
them all my adult life, it just depends on the lighting and the amount of sleep the cat
will allow me.

He has purchased an old car for the Kiwifruit pickers to go to work without saying
anything much to the House Parents. It makes me feel cut out of the family matters
and alienated from the way this place runs. His authoritarian style of management
catches me off guard all the time - do as you are told without consultation. On duty
the other day I came home from the factory, already ‘stuffed’ from a hard day in the
tail end of a madly hectic pace, to find I would not get an evening break between 6.30
and 8pm as usual due to my standby needing to take guys to a meeting and a newly
tranfered games night thrown in to boot. I ended up working from 6.30am to 10.20pm
without relief. It is a style of leadership I can learn from, as many other things in life,
hopefully not to do with others under me.

We have several new additions to the place filling up those empty duty positions.
Cody comes to us, young, ADHD, alcohol and drug and court fine problems, working
in the Kiwifruit packing sheds. Another, teenager James, also packing Kiwifruit with
drug and Court problems. Both of these are good workers and ‘up’ attitudes. Much
more mature Martin seems out of place at first. A clean cut fine looking man but
carrying voices and deep alcohol and self mutalation problems. But within days
Martin changed to what would appear to be a pathetic example of the demons which
rule over him. Mental ill-health is such an ugly thing and your heart just goes out to
the likes of him. A short revisit to ward 17 saw him return something like his old self
but the voices of paranoia overpower him each morning causeing deep furrows in his
forehead until he has some work under his belt for the day. The distraction seems to
be theropy.

Mike and Chris are two maori from Taupo who have chosen to stay in the hostel and
attend some ministry to their problems while working the kiwifuit season. They have
been to a district youth service led by the local maori church and participated in
worship. They have been volunteerily attending NA (Narcotics Anonymous) with the
others and we have prayed together for Mike’s back problems so far. Chris is a Jesus
look alike type with a gift of being able to write and perform Rap.

The drug problem has become public knowledge and reared its ugly head in the units.
Lyle and Jacob have been caught smoking dope on the property, Lyle as high as a kite
one Saturday morning and both admitting they would continue whenever they had the
chance. They had been warned before and uncerimoniously sent packing by the
manager. I had heard the goings on from staff and expected they would be given the
boot but had hoped the manager might have said something so that it would appease my
dissatisfaction with not being able to say goodbye and that I cared about them. But I
knew they had gone two days before management mentioned it on the monday morning as we geared up for the day. I was ready to box his ears but for some reason just drifted
again through the day in one of my ‘grumps’. Both were sweet guys who unfortunately
had psycological problems and an addiction which had never been dealt with. Their minds were weeker than the matter.

Jacob was one of those very lovable lads, carrying childhood abuse, artistic and so
insecure. My mum now in her sixties had been taking some art lessons for Jacob
which eight others had also attended. Mum showed her anguish also that he would no
longer be a part of rehab here. I wouldn’t be surprised to find Jacob back again one
day with a second wind at setting his life in order. He certainly would be welcome but
not his addictions. One day we hope that the Lord will show a better way to deal with
addictions and hurts from the past that give them a doorway into thier beings. It’s not
that we do not know ways but we really want to have faith from the Lord Himself
about what is right for us in this tension between the Health Authorities which fund us
and spiritual powers which rule over us and the guys. Jacob is tha classic case of
needing spiritual breakthrough but having our hands tied quite firmly by fear of the
Health Authority shutting that very healthy part of our finances down. I know that this
is a big concern for the manager because those eight beds are collectively worth over
$200,000.00 per annum.

Many things are being sorted in my understanding during this time here. Ideas about
myself and my relationship with other people around me is developing in my mind.
The things I do effect others and the effect can bring about a struggle of opinion about
how things are done. It is in this struggle that the enemy can and to be truthful often
does compromise the Christian worker. I have identified one of my own strengths to
become a failing when working under authority and with other equally capable
people. My old talent for on the spot organisation developed while self-employed has
tripped me up at The House. I am the new boy in the The House staff and in
that I need to come under the authority of the manager and the training of my longer
standing co-workers but when I am incharge of a group of guys in this same place I
am then, within limits, the authority figure and need to make decisions. It has become
evident that I need to be able to discern the line which at times I am overstepping and
getting offside with the others. This is a hard one for me because the tide of what’s
happening often carries me, as in the game of rugby, ‘offside’ without me realising.

CHAPTER SIX

MID WINTER 2001

Steamy mist lifts from the waters of the Kaituna as we pass. The water is warmer than
the air temperature in the mornings now, quite the reverse of a few months ago. Old
Jack Frost has laid his hand on the farm repeatedly over the last week, quite the
reverse of last years warm winter’s warm weather. I have noticed the tell-tale frost
burnt reddening of the tips of the grass and the sudden change of apparent feed ahead
of the steers. With 18 mouths of mixed ages to feed in the one mob now the small
paddocks do not last as they used to. We’ve had a change of cows because the others
went dry as their lactation was overpowered by the growing calf inside them. Three
‘empties’ (not in calf) have come in exchange to carry over with us to the next season.
They are producing up to a full bucket of milk a day if fed well, which they are not
always. Part of the problem was that again the water pump was out of action for most
of the previous week, leaving the troughs dry away from the sheds. You’d think that
mischevious pump knew that no one else had power over it while I was away and
decided to test their patience by having a rest. About an hour and a half and a bit of
inginuity I had it running again - the initial spring modification that the Lord gave me
hadn’t failed but the pipe work around the pump which moves violently if not
restrained did.

I have just taken a week ‘sabbatical’ you might say. Really it was just three days in
lue of statutary days, which I had been rostered on, used up between my normal days
off to give seven days of something else. A bit of time fishing and camping with my
eldest son (slipping away from his Chemistry thesis) at Hot Water Beach on the
shores of Lake Tarawera. There we basked in the heat of the springs along the beach
while a few metres away frosts bit hard in the clear air. The stars were extremely
bright, the old volcano left from the 1886 eruption sulking infront awe-inspiring, and
the lake soul cleansingly peaceful. We fished a little and bush bashed our way up
beside the stream nearby to show my son the amazing sight of trout spawing enmass.
The walk spoke into my own journey at The House, how when it looks like
there’s little hope of headway and you are seriously considering giving up you break
through into the open where the way is clear for hundreds of metres ahead. We saw
the trout in the pools before the waterfall, the little stream was black with them 50 to
a run and 100 to the pool. Later that night we fished another stream mouth and caught
three between us before returning home late the following night.

My personal wounding from the manager’s uncharitable spirit and the cuts and
bruises of the bush-bashing adventure seemed equally sore, reminding me of Christ’s
own stripes suffered for us. Most of the staff were agonising and seeking each others
comfort over the tight control and chastising we were all facing. We hurt for
ourselves, the guys and for each other and prayed accordingly. We couldn’t help
being negative towards the manager’s sometimes controlling, sometimes savage and
confrontational spirit but none of us wanted to see him removed. We all wanted to
find his healing for the good of this place and his own soul. We were getting nowhere
reasoning with him, he was so defensive of his autocratic ways, so that some were
now going above his head direct to the board.

Three of us house parent couples were coming together surrupticiously to intercede
for each other and the management while management appeared to be perceiving this
as a conspiracy against them. Apparently this had never been the case in the two years
before we arrived. Never before had five gaven their lives to the Lord like back in
March. Men had gone to church and lessons about the Christianity but not being born
again with power associated. It appeared that this managerial thorn in our side was
causing those willing to unite and beseach the Lord for change. Change was being
initiated but as yet we were not in receipt of that knowledge. That knowledge
presented itself a week or so later on the street when we ‘bumped into’ once pastor
and missionary Ed, and now an elder and board member of The House. He had
arranged for another elder of the church who was incharge of many workers at a paper
mill to mentor our manager with his people skills.

During one of these prayer meetings I had a puzzling vision of an oil painting. A
broad brush filled with only partially mixed colours of purple and white being forced
so hard against the canvas that oil of the two colours bulged out each side of what
looked like a flower petal and tears dripped from the brush in God’s hands. I felt that
I was the brush and heard the painting was a new thing the Lord was doing. I felt as if
the anguish I was going through was by God’s hand and that the result would be a
new creation. Later I would actually buy an oil paint set and paint to try and
understand the vision. The painting has begun to show something like four in a
furnace but it is early days yet with oils needing to dry before more layers go on. I
have little personal skill with oils althought I have been around my mother oilpainting
for donkeys years to know a little about mixing colours and applying it to canvas.

During the week off while my wife spent time relaxing with our ‘Christian foster
son’s’ family in Te Awamutu, I soaked in Christian music, broadened my mind with
reading and continued to seek the Lord. I had seen a vision at hot water beach of a
lion laying across my step with his feet up against the door. I read things from
Oswald Chambers written early last centtury which spoke of things like God
squeezing the grape to bring forth the wine. I felt like that at times but was yet to
fathom the wine. What is wine really except I guess the best that we can be in the
Lord. How much squeezing can one be bothered to put up with in this day of
post-modern consumerism?

As I returned to work things were changing rapidly. The place was filling up and for
the first time since the manager was appointed the place looked like becoming full.
Anyone up to living in the units needed to be moved out quickly and a list of five was
drawn up. Suddenly even more pickers and packers were also coming in for lodgings,
some finding the local caravan park too cold for comfort in all this frosty weather and
had their pay withheld due to what seems like scurrilous overseers. Some who had
come in a couple of weeks earlier had as quickly left but now another class had begun
knocking at our doors.

Three young fellows from Waipukarau moved in to fill unit 1 upstairs directly across
from our bedroom for the first time. Unit 2 below had long time resident Roger and
more recently Graham. Unit 3 on top had long timers Jeff and James. Unit 4 below
now filled with transferees from the hostel Te Ngarahu and Sam. Unit 5 up top by
the next house parents home I hadn’t seen filled before now filled with mental health
residents Jim and Martin from the hostel. Unit 6 below looked like taking George and
Murphy from the hostel and Haden from the hostel looked to be joining David up top
in unit seven. Unit eight at this stage was occupied by a mature South African with a
slight mental illness also named Ian working in the Elios Kiwifruit sheds.

We have taken in four young men from justice and corrections this last week and
expecting more processing at present. Andi is 24 and has done long ‘lags’ was
obviously a hard nut to crack in his day. He likes to carve wood and wants not to be in
prison any more now that he has children. He ran away from home at fourteen and
was taken in by a 35 year old prostitute and shown the inside of her sheets at the
tender age of 15. DJ is a young handsome maori rapper who seems he might be made
of reasonable stuff. Troy is short and middle aged looking with a Christian
background, but he has borrowed a few cars off the odd car lot in his day. I do not like
him a bit because he is constantly wanting something from us or contesting some
decision, otherwise known as attention seeking. Sione is a tall heavily built half
Tongan half Samoan and facing court preceeding over possibly getting a bit heavy
with the step-daughter.

In the middle of all this my long term struggle with Robert ended. He admitted to
smoking ‘dak’ at work so the manager and probation officer took him back into the
security of The House staff vigilance. Robert had other ideas however and took
it upon himself to find another job and slip out without permission on my first day
back. One minute he was in bed sleeping and then he was gone without breakfast or a
cut lunch to my knowledge. Later that night when he came home he fronted up to me
A with a kind of explanation but I told him he would have to sort it with the manager in the
morning. It was out of my hands, no more could I help. I felt he had to be off to
Waikarea Prison. The next morning he slipped out again and I advised the manager that I
thought he was about to do a runner. While Mark was on duty that night he showed up
briefly for dinner and with his chores half completed he packed and ducked out the
back. He showed up the next day with a lady and audacity to ask for his money. The
Police had already been informed so the courts would make any further decisions.

Personally I had a peace about his leaving. I thought the Lord had begun a work in
Robert and believe the Holy Spirit is at work in him but his mind is caught by what
he termed ‘flashbacks’ of his past abuse and that allowed the addictions a place to
fester. He was hard work most of the time and I wouldn’t be surprised if we see him
again in this place doing another rehab. I doubt if Robert will hold down a job for
more than a few weeks until he gets himself together. It may take ten years or more
before he matures sufficiently to contain his demons. All we can hope for is that our
words and deeds over the last four months and the Holy Spirit within will eventually
win. God, may it be so.

For some reason I have had my first session with our resident counsillor, Sheryl. I
was opposed to any sharing with her but with an encouraging word of her abilities
from ex-missionary/pastor and trustee Ed (who I count as wise counsel) and I responded to her invitation one afternoon. I was intending to paint the good picture that I had everything in hand but I guess her prayers had set things up for the truth to flow out because the manager and I had a run in over the very appointment itself being made without his knowledge. His
little prickle spiked me and I was smarting. The pain from the thorn in the side
released a torrent of resentment so that Sheryl had the full picture and some words of
encouragement that Jesus would give me the right words to dull the sharpness and
penetrating ability of the (I say tongue in cheek) ‘prick’. The big concern though is the effect on our unity and its effect on the Spirit in this place.

I have a peace now after that session in a hope I now have in the light at the end of the tunnel, a word Sheryl spoke of Christ giving me words that will defuse the confrontation put up before me. It was also fortunate to run into Ed on the street saying there was aguy coming in to upskill the manager on issues of employee relations. Unfortunately Mark is carrying a heavy burden about these same issues now. On top of this one of his brothers has died and he has had to take responsibility for a funeral as no other members of the family could care less. He is due for leave in a couple of weeks and to my mind it can't come soon enough to releive things for him.

Chris has left after an altimatum to get back with his partner and baby daughter. Ian has left homesick for his native South Africa after trying the hostel environment for a while. Sam has left after a series of nights out without official permission. He found a lady friend and by the hickies on his neck seems to have immersed himself in fornication. He too came up against the immovable wall of management, decided he'd had enough control packed up and shifted to his father's place around the road. There is some indication that he was told to obey or get out as most others had, but has been allowed to return to visit the guys.

Robert has been back as well after being kicked out. He couldn't seem to leave well alone coming to get $5 firewood but taking more like $20. His car wouldn't start though and this led to a whole series of incidents. He asked the manager for a jump start but was rejected on the grounds that he had no leads. He then tried to borrow Jim's bike, which he had permission once before to borrow. But was seen helping himself to it by another resident and collared by myself and escorted with the manager up to the office for an interview with the Police. He was living next to the factory building with a girlfriend and her mother. The last report I heard was that the Police were looking for him following a couple of burglaries. I can't help thinking how stupid he has been lately but really he's always been that way, we only maintained him within the parameters of the law while we had him under our wing. I guess we have been his crutches and now that he hasn't got us he is unable to walk in any rightness.

Troy didn't last long here. Three weeks to be precise. He was a manipulator who got up our collective noses, managed to get some muck on the Manager aired it to a counsellor (seemingly a breach of confidence) who in turn aired it to the manager a week later. Turned out according to the manger to be of little substance but the very fact that he had tried drew him into a rage and consequently evicted Troy. We later found out that this wasn't actually his name but he had been using alias' so much that the judge who convicted him of car theft from dealers yards was unsure who to name him.

Alcohol has caused the demise of two Maori guys, George and Murphy. George brought booze in one night in his intoxication and shared some with his mates in one of the units. He was given notice but then given another chance to clean up his act. He didn't and took poor Murphy down with him by coming home in the about midnight so drunk that he both spilt beer and urinated on his bed. Though Murphy protested that it was his sister who gave him the alcohol George later in another intoxicated stupor volunteered his involvement to the manager at 4 in the morning.

Andi has now finally been evicted after continually bucking the establishment. He assulted Cody one day with two knuckle sandwiches after receiving an orange in the ear at forty paces during a game. He was continually in trouble at work picking, being fired twice in as many weeks and was slacking on the chores and unit duties. I believe he was shifted out of the hostel far too soon after his arrival as part of clearing some room for any supposed new comers. They never really eventuated so Andi dipped out on most of the Christian input normally given new residents. He professed Christianity but the fruits just weren't there.

Cody has come up for two breaches of probation and given his first taste of prison with a week at Waikeria. He did not like it one bit calling it "a hell hole!" My daughter had mentioned it to Cody's brother at school, who was unaware as was his whole family that he had been sent down, that he was due back that afternoon. The results were that the younger brother ran away from home and we haven't heard if he's been found. DJ also ran away one night from church and we have received a letter from him at Waikeria Prison to say that he was missing us all very much. There was some unsubstantiated talk that he was caught with a stash of wallets and purses and that he had taken $190 out of the church collection money.

Some of our residents have opened up about some of the practices they encountered in hospital and prison. One mental health guy spoke of how he was taken down while in one of his rages by what he called ex-SAS-nurses. They attacked and immobilised him with such speed that he didn't have time to fight them off. Before he knew it he had a finger in the back paralizing him while he was put on a drip. One of the ex-prison guys spoke of similar treatment at 'Parry' (prison north of Auckland) where some inmates are put on gas to render them like zombies, slumped and dribbling from the mouth for the duration of the day. We hear such stories that it would make your weetbix milk curdle. Many of the stories we hear are outright B.S. and being able to sort out the truth is a continual prayer of mine. Truth in all aspects of the job, whether spoken or spiritual, it's so important when you are ministering Christ to these troubled guys.

The manager has finally gone off the edge (stark raving mad) laying final notices on staff now to press his authority over any challenge. During the most recent incident I was called in to witness the response to a list of accusations against House Parent Sonny. Sonny is one of those salt of the earth Maori guys and a Sargent Major from the Army Engineers having served in the Sinai and elsewhere overseas. With his big frame, shaved head, handlebar moustache, he is formidable against the rather sawn-off pot bellied look of our Australian manager.

After Sonny put his case the manager turned against me suggesting, in his paranoia, complicity with Mark and Sonny to for an alliance against him. It is true that we were supporting each other in prayer meetings for our individual hurts that had come our way from him but to say that we had set out to come against him was a rotation direct from the father of spin, if you get my drift. Satan was having a field day with his mind as he schemed to get his measure of vengance against Sonny's determination to take it over his head to the board. As the manager turned against me his eyes dialated with rage and when asked to state my position I simply made the observation that at that point in time I saw evil in him, to which Sonny and his wife came forth with quiet halleluiah's.

It was at this point that he gave to us the decision of where to go from there. I suggested we had best get all the staff and all the board together to sort it out once and for all. The manager hardly said a dozen words to either Sonny or myself for the next few days. A notice was issued a few days later to say that a meeting with a couple of board members would take place on Friday night without the rest of the staff being invited. The meeting turned out to be a bit different than planned with his wife and the staff counsellor present and the chairman made mention of this departure to the issued letter. Many were praying for us and as I spoke I could feel the Lord's peace 'kick-in' bringing words to mind clearly and precisely. The meeting became an effective censure on the manager's final warning letter and attachments and he manifested his demons well for all to see, accusing us of collusion and lies. I know the spin was as obvious to all others present including Sonny's pastoral support crew.

I had the weekend to work with the manager and I feared the man would not let go of this struggle. As I feared the next morning he was ugly. Fortunately support kept coming for us and we finished the weekend reasonably well until we left with the children on their school holiday to Auckland and Northland. It was a tough time and if not for assurance at church on Sunday that God was not displeased with me and that 'all is well with my soul' as the hymn goes, we may well have felt downcast for some time.The manager's wife helped immensely during the last weekend with a very positive and cheerful attitude to my wife and I even though she was hurting inside for her husband.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LATE WINTER 2001

I haven't written for quite some time. The river has gone. I have barely seen it in the last while. I have been a factory worker now for a month or so. I don't know why except that Mark was getting down at the factory and he has now had a month at the farm which I made a big deal about especially when we learned that he had the first full week, then the first full two weeks as a farmer since getting the job a year before.

As for me the endless packages of factory product are looking pretty ordinary and I'm now looking to work the system to overcome my boredom. We hold to this saying that if we had wanted to work in a factory we'd have got a job in one but this was to us supposed to be ministry and we begrudge the drudgery. This is a big issue with Sonny as well - being a carpenter he vary rarely sees the farm and he'd love to get a change. It seems we are hired for our brawn rather than our brains.

We daily have to encourage guys on and on as they sand the joints of the wooden product that we export from the tin shed. Lately with the help of a couple of the guys I put in two skylights which shed some light on the subject during the grey days of winter. It seemed to make a profound visual difference and we hoped that it would lift the spirits of the guys as they worked. The lights stay out during the day now but the spirits have remained dull. The timber comes in the product goes out but the men stay the same. My vigour has also waned away since the lift of a family holiday.

Back in July we had a fantastic family time seeing all that was to see during the school holiday break from Auckland's Rainbows End through the Kauri museums and forest to Cape Reinga and back through Waitangi and Marsden Point Refinery to more of Auckland's treats. The children loved it and were quite appreciative of the various treats. Quality family time is so needed and this was our chance to invest in our own children exclusively. I was apprehensive about coming home to my struggle with ther manager but I needn't have been concerned. Due to his sister finally dying of her long struggle to cancer he had gone to Australia a week earlier than planned. I came home, thank the Lord, to a reign of peace and tranquility.

However, peace is quickly shattered by hostility and we were not spared. On his return the manager promptly reasserted his old autocratic style of leadership. I am reminded of David and Saul again and again as the struggle continues. The first week of his return was marked with profound unease as we of the lesser kept out of his way. But before long he was demanding attendance at the office after work. Whether he was feeling lonely or outcast we're not really sure.

The next week started with a bomb shell at close quarters. The manager sat in the office with a big gun beside him in the form of a Scandinavian board member. This caught the rest of us off guard as we were not informed of this before we met for our morning meeting. I guess feeling somewhat compromised he had decided to regroup and attack. He fired the first volley with a demand to break the division between us, do the job and be happy with it. The board member reinforced the call and remarks were made. To end the heated discussion a prayer came forth from our factory manager who by now was completely sick of it all calling for resolution. However I was not ready to see things just brushed aside and without comprehending it I roared (in an attempt to give understanding to what I was saying) "But you've got to stop roaring at us!" and amid horrified mumbling something like "out of order " which I didn't really catch. I do believe the board member then got an impression of how deep feelings ran with us. He asked what the board could do. I asked for some in house training on communication, within three weeks to give me some hope that things would change.

Quickly the board appointed a mediator (the one mentioned by Ed) Graham Street from the church eldership and initiated prayer meetings on a Tuesday morning. The mediator then arranged meetings on a Wednesday night in an attempt to get to the bottom of and resolve the issues. I however was going through the deepest darkest time I had thought possible. I had lost hope and sight of the Lord in my misplaced focus on our autocratic manager. I now realise that he had enthroned himself inside me and this demigod had taken over my mind. Nimrod had built Babel right where Jerusalem once stood and I had been taken in.

Finally after a bad few days I heard the Spirit again saying "Focus on Jesus". I took up my guitar and began to praise and before long a new song came to me and I played in the Spirit words speaking of not those who I talked around to Christianity but those who followed me in my walk with Christ. That was as if a prophetic statement that changed my mind. I saw men following me even though they seemed lost to me because of the managers actions. When confronted with these two options of what a Christian models himself on they weren't choosing the manager they were choosing the Lord who walks with me. Yes they were falling back and being booted out of this place but they had seen the way and they could then walk as we walked rather than talk as he talks.

Graham Street organised meetings to try to get to the bottom of our staff troubles. We attended, ground rules were set and input as asked for. Meeting upon meeting went by as we brought his understanding up to speed on issues facing us but always they circumvented the real issues of the manager's mean streak. After the second meeting where the manager reissued his determination to stay the same I realised hope was indeed lost.

As I walked through my own private valley of the shadow of death things got darker and darker for me. My wife and I were discussing the very real need in me to resign and how and when that would take place. I had been getting the call to return to our homes town, our previous place of ministry, and at times I really felt that coming to The House was a mistake. The following day as Spring officially began I connected up one of our two trailers to take to the factory to bring back off-cuts for firewood. As I was about to go out the gate the manager turned sour about having a trailer disappear out of the property without his being first asked. The tentacles of the control spirit began to take their grip of me again so I volunteered to put it back rather than cause a problem. However the manager allowed us to continue and bring back a couple of bins of wood. Happily I continued thinking the issue had found closure.

That notorious Thursday I was lulled into the lion's den again and as soon as I had taken a seat realised what I had walked into. Again the attack came concerning the trailer not to go out without asking permission. This time though I'd had enough of this pedantic behaviour and thinking of my wife and the discussion the night before found this a apt moment to resign. If he wanted to continue to stroke his ego he was not going to have me around anymore to do it on. I for one had enough.

The following day I wrote out a resignation to the board and apologised for my actions of the previous day. In due course the resignation was accepted without as much as a how's your father. In four weeks we would be out of under this mans tyranny. To me it seemed so obvious and true that you will know the tree by its fruits. The fruits weren't those of the Holy Spirit and my fear was that fruit would do damage until the final day. With this in mind I asked the board for a restaint on the manager.

Two more meetings followed and I begrudgingly attended and gave input into each of them but my co-workers were getting increasingly frustrated by all this skirting of the issues and little progress towards solving anything. Mark was taking it especially hard and the Spirit was continuously groaning within him. He was increasingly getting more disillusioned by the week and this was manifesting in rather unpleasant replies to our residents. I was concerned for him and began to realise that my resignation may have been playing a part in his struggle. We had become very close. I wondered if he would not resign also but unlike me I think his need of a job was stronger than his need to get away from the problem.

As the meetings progressed we discovered that all three couples employed by the present manager had because of the advertising content and the board interview taken the position clearly to be a ministry and found that in fact it was quite profoundly a secular work with some Christian appendages. This meant that there was quite a lot of disappointment and frustration in where we had each found ourselves locked into. The couple employed under the previous administration took it to be a secular job with Christian input and weren't anywhere near so frustrated. It was interesting to note that three of us in this frustrated area had done two years of missions training each before taking this position and the others had very little, the manager included.

The next thing to come to our attention in the meeting was that the previous administration was rather too lax and that the board had hired this manager to get to grips with the way things ran so that it survived financially and brought better work habits to the fore. The pendulum swing of kind/lax to authoritarian had come to a point where some of us believed that we were being beaten up by problems that belonged to the past. The control needed to achieve this appeared to have become an octopus strangling the ministry. It had swung a bit too far and it was causing division of opinion.

All during this I found myself in conflict with my wife who wanted and or believed we would stay. I battled with the Lord calling us to our homes town and my wife struggling to stay where she had become very close to Mel. Eventually I found myself in a reconciliatry mood to approach the manager again about us trying to get on and work together. In this vain I talked to him about the possibility of his making adjustments and us staying on but he didn't sound to rapt about the idea with an "I'll give it some though and get back to you." He never did.

The final weeks passed and then it was seemingly all over.


CONCLUSION

The school holidays had begun and with the children we began a well earned break, this time for good. We spent some time in the caravan at the beach and found peace beginning to return while we used up the fifteen days leave we had owing. There were struggles trying to come to grips with being out in the cold, without prospects. No job, no home to go to, no formed ministry. We went over to our homes town to try to get our house back from the tennants but we were still not totally sure if that was the right move - we had further thoughts of a rehab establishment in mind.

A bit lost and wandering around we visited our second son and learnt that someone had left at his workplace the previous Friday. I knew the boss and infact was instrumental in helping our son get the position with Andrew, a christian brother from our previous church. I suggested that he tell Andrew when he went to work the next morning that I was available. He did and they rang to ask if I had my boots with me, could I start there and then. It was a bit sudden but we agreed that the following Monday might be a better time to start. Releif, I had a job but more importantly an income. I worked and stayed with our son the first week while the family went back to our flat at The House. I enjoyed the week very much, the relative solitude of sleeping alone and being able to pray out loud in a single room in a quite neighbourhood was very pleasant compared to the noisy atmosphere of the rehab centre. I think it was also good for my son and his fiance to show we were not in any way loving them less by their living together though unmarried.

There were some sad faces as we packed up the trailer and left The House, both amongst the staff and the residents. The manager was his normal uncharitable self right to the end with a parting shot of displeasure that we had not completely emptied the unit and given him the keys by the final day of employment. We understood that we had no hurry and board permission to stay on if we had no where else to live.

There were no thanks or best wishes, just another snide comment from a mean mannered administrative autocrat. I have had time to work through these issues and consider it a priveledge to have had such a fine education in the ways of men, from the angle of the residents and the angle of management. Yes it hurts that we had to leave so early and could not have continued working and loving those men in need, it was after all a truely fine facility, and given a more understanding boss we would still be there. The lessons are not lost however, I have much to thank the Lord for in that thorn in my side. If I am to lead men I have to understand the mistakes before I too fall into them. There was a lot of our human condition in that man and I have to be so careful not to take that path.

I firmly believe love is the way.