Jeremy L. Berg

“How are you doing today?” I asked Rob (not his real name), and extended a hand. “I am blessed,” he proclaimed, then asked pointedly, “What else can I say?”

Rob and I stepped out into the cold December day.  We crossed the busy Minneapolis street and headed to the car, where my colleague unlocked the doors for us to hop in.

 I had no idea what was going on.  It was the first week of a new job for me, and I was “shadowing” another MHP (Mental Health Practitioner).  Completely overwhelmed with wondering what the day would bring, I didn’t realize at that time that my colleague didn’t know much of the details either.  This was also his first time meeting Rob.  He got a phone call a few hours later with a request to take Rob to an intake appointment at a transitional housing facility. So,  that’s what we were doing dtoday

 During our fifteen minute car ride, we learned a lot about Rob, because he really liked to talk.  He shared so much with us freely and openly, with only a little prompting from my colleague (who really did well at the “motivational interviewing” and “person-centered focus” that I learned about in training).  He told us of his rough upbringing in Chicago, losing his wife to cancer, and of his very recent completion of an intensive outpatient treatment for chemical dependency.  Rob was so proud to be sober, and he was feeling good, which amazed me, because as of today, Rob is homeless.

 Rob’s housing status concerned me at this time, but I realized that I was no longer in a “sympathetic” mode of caring.  I wanted to help Rob, but I knew the dangers of trying too hard to “fix the problem”- this was a rehabilitation program, after all (another frame of reference I learned in my training). In other words, I can lead the horse to water, but I can’t make him drink. My job today was to support Rob in making safe and positive decisions regarding his housing and wellness. Rob was concerned, but not frightened, about not knowing where he would be sleeping tonight.

 What an honor it is to have a hand in helping someone in this real and profound way.

 I interviewed for this position a couple months ago, and was both terrified and excited to do something wildly different with my Occupational Therapy degree.   Although I was excited about interviewing, I left that first meeting with a feelings of ambivalence and hopelessness. Had I ever worked with the homeless population? No.  Did I think that I could really make a difference?  Not sure.  Would I actually see progress? Hmmm, I would have to ask more about that.

I would be hired on as the “vocational specialist”—how overwhelming would it be to try to focus on vocation-related goals (e.g., work, school, structuring days) if my clients were out living on the streets?  I wanted the job, but I just didn’t know how this would work and if it would really be for me. In theory, it was right up my alley, but in reality, would I get completely burned out by hitting wall after wall?  I have worked in the human services field long enough to know that the resources are few and far in between.

 To fill in the long part of this story, I learned a few more logistics of the job during my 2^nd interview, and then was offered the position with enthusiasm. I accepted with trust, as I have felt God lead me through each baby step of this process, going back nearly 2 years (but that is a story for another time). I knew God wanted me to step forward, and I knew He was whispering to me to trust Him in the process and to be patient with myself.

 I prayed to God, “Father, please guide me, strengthen me, and give me the tools to help these people.”

 I left it to Him, and treated myself to a mini vacation between jobs. With all work-related things pushed out of my mind, I road-tripped with my husband to Chicago for a few days.  We ate some deep-dish pizza and went to an amazing Christmas concert.  We explored the city and took silly pictures.

My husband, God bless him, is always aware of people in need.  This wasn’t our first vacation to a large and unfamiliar city, and have been approached by many individuals asking for money. After our concert, we were rushing out of the Chicago Theater, on a speedy quest to find some deep-dish pizza, as it was late and we didn’t have time to stop for dinner before the show.  My focus was interrupted by my husband, “Can we go help that woman?”

Sitting against a lamp post was a young woman that I maybe would not have seen.  When my husband pointed her out, I about panicked.  I had no cash.  I had nothing I could give her at that minute, and I felt so inadequate.  I couldn’t solve this young woman’s problem, which according to her cardboard sign, was that she just left an abusive relationship today and had nowhere to go tonight. So, why should I stop? What can I do?

My husband asked if he could pray for her. I stopped and turned around.  I watched as he approached her, crouched down to make eye contact, and I wondered how she would respond.  When he asked, “Can I pray for you?” he did not get a response of “No” or not even a “Sure” or “Yeah, I guess.”  She looked back up and him and said, “Yes!”  We were able to just talk to her for a little bit and in that two minutes I saw her eyes light up with a genuine appreciation for the time we took out of our rushing around to just acknowledge her,  hear a little of her story, and say a prayer with her.

 This moment came back to my memory today when I met Rob.  It also came together when my new colleague told me yesterday that despite all the skills and knowledge I may have, the most important asset I can bring to our clients is my warmth and kindness.  Now not only is that one of the best compliments I’ve ever received, but it is truth that I believe God has spoken to me in several different ways now.

 Tune your ears to wisdom, and concentrate on understanding. –Proverbs 2:2,  NLT

 Really, we are all more similar than we are different.  Regardless of circumstance, I think it is safe to say that most people just want to be heard and supported. A listening ear is more valuable than being able to “fix” someone’s problem.  In fact, maybe providing genuine empathy will, despite challenges such as mental health symptoms and chemical dependency, empower individuals to take one more step in their recovery or wellness.

 I don’t know where Rob slept this evening.  However, I know that I will get to connect with him regularly (as one member of this new team I am on) to see how he steps forward, and although he is vulnerable, I am hopeful that he can make positive changes in his life. I know that we can work together to use available resources to help him succeed towards better health and wellness.  He is thankful for what is accessible to him through our program and he told me he is “blessed.”  As for me, I am truly humbled, and blessed as well.  What else can I say for now?