A Staff's Reflections

Upon being asked to reflect on my time at Wolseley Family Place, I laughed to myself and though “I spend a lot of time reflecting on my experience at Wolseley Family Place”. You see, this is a place that has revolutionized my world. In the time that I have worked here, I have found that my spirit, my world view and the way I interact with most of the people who come in and out of my life has changed. With such an impact, would your head not be spinning? When I began to notice this shift in self, I thought I should try to pick the 2 1/2 years I have spent here a part. I endeavoured to pin point the exact moments of impact and narrow down the individuals who have struck a chord with me. I figured there was some formula to this magic that I should be able to put my thumb down on. I have been successful in some of this, spurred on by the drive you get when one wants to thank another person for their kindnesses or influential words. Much of it I am still stymied by.

To truly get at the core of this shift, you’d have to look at why I experience compassion when I hear a news story about a father who has abandoned his baby girl in a hotel. Instead of hurling disgust and jaded remarks about the fellow at the TV, I celebrate the humanity in the people that changed her diaper and cuddled her. To find the answer, you’d have to pick apart the molecules of every day I spend at WFP. You’d have to look at each story I have heard, each tear that has been shed in my presence, each bout of anger shouted at injustice and each tender awakening I have witnessed. From those experiences I have been privileged to witness, you would see the understanding grow. These are the moments people don’t see when they see a ‘teenaged welfare mom’ pushing a stroller down Elgin. Before one thinks “God just used birth control, it’s not that hard” they should spend some time sitting in room 312 as I do and hear the tale that brought that woman to that point in her life. Then maybe, judgement could be spared and compassion could yield. This, I believe is the key to my change, the lesson that one should stop and listen before they allow the utter noise of judgement cloud their humanness.

Another part of this impact is that fact that my day is spent witnessing the interactions of others. At WFP there is a cross section of Winnipeg. Newborns, elderly, everyone in between, middle class, lower class, people in their own class, individuals who are facing mental health concerns, people who provide a shoulder to cry on, people who need a break from their kids, people who want to learn belly dancing, people who haven’t eaten in days, people who have a hunger in their soul. It’s all here, every day, all day. Raw humanity is found in the basement of 691 Wolseley Ave. It is this realness that has forced me out of the picket fenced yard of my youth where a gleaming veneer seems to be valued more than what is in your heart. How different my workplace is from this upbringing, where your heart matters more than the year of car you drive. I get asked a lot by my gleaming veneered friends and family, “What the heck made you work there?” At first, I felt like I had to justify my actions by calling it ‘trench work’. Over time, my confidence built and I was able to say, “Because this is what feeds my heart and soul, this is what was meant to be for me, this is what I needed.” There were far too many circumstances that had to line up for WFP to come into my life for me to think there was not a guiding hand. To think of those circumstances gives me the shivers as the result has been as divine as the intervention.

The other piece to this unravelling is the staff of WFP. There have been a number of people come and go during my time here. Each heart and brain filling their position with earnest want to help make the world a better place. It would be naïve and untrue to think we all got along in blissful harmony but with each positive and negative interaction, a lesson was learned. Be it cross generational, cross class, miscommunication, personality clash or whatever, conflict seems to hide at every corner, especially in such a small, tight knit work place, just waiting. Yet, some how, there is a peace, a mission, a hope, a dream in all of us here. I have always wanted to ask each staff person what brought them to WFP and what has made them stay. I’m sure the answers would be as colourful as the people themselves. As I write this I feel a dull ache in my heart and tears begin to sting my eyes. I cannot put my finger on the spirit of WFP. It has always, since the day I walked in to door struck me with awe. WFP and its staff brought hope for the world back into my heart. It is so rich and beautiful, like a colourful quilt made up of hopeful dreamers, folk singers, recovering alcoholics, single moms, kid care’ers and lovers of good cuisine.  All who just want to do good for whatever reason. WFP is the NGO that could and it seems like as one person leaves, the next that walks in the door is just what is needed, for whatever reason, for whatever amount of time.

I have come to realize that it is not one piece that has made the impact, just as it is not one piece of WFP that welcomes participants through the doors. It is the collective that makes the difference. I have said this many times before and I will say it again, there was a guiding force that brought me here. About 17 different, odd, strange, fateful things had to happen to make my practicum and eventual employment at WFP happen. The lowest of lows occurred for me here (the phone call from the love of my life saying, “Jess I have cancer” occurred on my work phone line. I collapsed in Sharon’s office with the hands of 3 staff supporting me, I will never forget that feeling) and the highest of highs were celebrated with WFP staff present (my walking down the aisle, the pregnancy test Nasrin sold me which would result in this letter being written). In these very formative years of my life, I needed, wanted, hoped to have this type of work place. WFP has set me on the right path to carry out its spirit in whatever I do. The impact is deep; it has cut me to the core.

This is not my best writing. How could it be? I am sitting in the rubble of a dream, sifting through it, taking stock. Wolseley Family Place was my first foray into the career world. I expected job experience, I got life experience. I feel ready to become a mom, to strike out onto the next step of my adult life, a bit like a wobble toddler but with a sturdy rail beside me to grasp when needed made up of Sharon’s ‘challenging questions’, Pamela’s wisdom, Noah’s songs, Noelle’s hope for children backing me, (I could go on), reminding me of the good, supporting me as I face this new stage. I am ready…here I go.

Thank you.