Dear Inner Circle,
A few years ago now, two brothers walked into Redfern from the country. Their shoes had given up long before they had — soles flapping, the remaining canvas worn thin and grey. An elder saw the boys before anyone else did and was up and across the street in an instant. After he established how they were connected, he marched them into a shop like he’d been expecting them all his life. They emerged in brand new shoes, beaming, both about a foot taller than when they’d walked in.
I heard the rest of the story only recently, at the elder’s birthday party (which wasn’t at Wayside, but at a gathering of people who love him). He was delighted to learn that one of those two boys, now a grown man, works for Wayside.
The elder later spoke of being raised by his nana, deep in the outback, in a town that has seen and farewelled industry and now looks like a forgotten outpost in the red earth of the central west. When the inspectors came round looking for children to remove from families, his nana didn’t hide him or the other children. She ordered them sternly to dress up. “Spit on your hair and flatten it down. Best clothes, best shoes on, chin up.” Then she’d stand them in the doorway, chins up, backs straight.
It was an act of dignified resistance. Whatever comes next, you’re going to see our humanity and equality.
The now-elder never forgot it, so when decades later, those two boys walked into town with their shoes falling apart, something in him went straight back to that doorway. One of those young boys who walked to Redfern, the one who now works at Wayside, recalled the story and he wasn’t just remembering a kindness done to him. He was describing a way of life that act of kindness sparked in him. He treats people who walk through our doors the way that elder treated him — noticing what’s falling apart before anyone else does and moving in quietly.
That’s how this place works, it’s through people rather than our programs, through our people who have been cared for, who grow up to become someone’s doorway. “Can I confess something, Rev?” No one ever wait for the yes. “I no longer identify as I used to. I’m an earthling now — humans are too weird.” I quickly checked whether we have a policy on that. We don’t. Never needed one. To my knowledge ‘earthling’ covers everyone who walks through that door anyway.
Thanks for being a part of our Inner Circle,
Jon
Rev. Jon Owen
CEO & Pastor
Wayside Chapel
