Second House, Partially Open!

Two women joined the Liahona Mission as guests on the 27th of June.  They're also taking lessons with the Missionaries already!  They're not technically the first women guests, but they are the first of what will now be a sober living home for women.

Brief historical flashback:  We had had two women at the original sober living home, back when we were first trying to start.  We had figured that whatever gender showed up for help first, that's the gender we'd focus on.

It was two women back then, that September of 2014.  They moved in a bit early, before they had their program fees, because they were having an emergency.  Then their checks they had expected were delayed.  Some are already seeing where that was going!

Yeah.  It went to them having to leave, two weeks later, after they learned a valuable lesson in "Oh, yeah, sober living homes don't need to give 30 days notice when you aren't paying anything."  One had actually threatened to take it to lawyers and eviction courts, but I've forgot more about Landlord/Tenant law than most young legal aid lawyers will ever learn! 

That was also when we decided to do away with key locks, which involve the difficulty of getting a key back or changing the locks, and had our current electronic locks installed on both houses! 

Moving back to the present, these two moved in just fine, no program fee paid, but that was at least understood and agreed on at the start.  See, the basement still isn't finished either, so while I'm uncomfortable charging, I was also uncomfortable it going to waste.  And since where they had been wasn't working out as well, this gives them electricity, running water, and - by schedule - going over to the other house for a shower.

The other house being right next door, so that's convenient!

There's been some of the usual stuff that involves someone first living in a group home environment.  Rules that you don't think need to be rules often do need to be stated explicitly, but it's hard to know in advance which ones those may be!

For instance, this morning I received a facebook message from one of them that they were going to have a fire in the little grill in back.  No problem.  That's a nice area back there, almost feels like you're not in the city.  If they wished to grill up whatever food they had for breakfast, more power to them. 

15 minutes later, I strolled out to see how it was going.  There was a fire merrily going in the low to the ground grill.  Several logs in there burning quite briskly!  But no women in sight!  Or anyone else!

Checking their room downstairs, they advised me that they had tried, but it hadn't seemed to start, so they gave up and were going to sleep in!  I went back outside and put the fire out.  This, by the way, is why a "Program Supervisor", "Caretaker" or whatever you want to call me is needed!

Someone has to take personal interest in the properties!

Other things that arose were specific to they being female guests.  (Though some might argue that the fire was, too!)  I got all their stuff over in my van this past Monday, and we got them all unloaded while a couple of the guys from the men's sober living house watched. 

After they were moved in, I went to my office to get the applications for the two new guests.  A literal minute later, I was downstairs in their room to give them their applications - and so, already, was one of the guys from the other house!  I chuckled and said, "Well, that didn't take long!"

And so I promptly announced the "new" rule of "No guys in the girl's house, no girls in the guy's house!"  (As some of you know, no overnight guests are allowed, and while they can have a female guest over during the day, such can only be in the living room, and there can't be any "romance".)

One happy thing is I think the number of cook outs is going to go up.  The men and women already met in the common area outside between the homes for a cook out earlier this week, and are apparently going to have one again this Friday, and it's nice to just have everyone cooking and socializing! 

I was also able to clarify the "new" rule.  No, there are no girls to be in the guy's house to "just" get some ice.  No, no one needs to go downstairs to their room to ask them something.  No, while showers are available at the guy's house, I must be the one to escort them over, they cannot be there by themselves.  One of the guys asked if this was for the protection of the women.

I said, "You could see it like that.  Or you could see it for your protection.  Or mine.  In any case, I've studied many sober living homes, and the mix and match ones never work well!"  (A mix and match one is where the men and women are literally in the very same house, and the "13th step" is greatly indulged in.)

I also told the guys again - quit smoking in the house!  They agreed not to.  So I said, "Yes, but this time, I'm serious, quit it for real, I'm tired of smelling it!"  Hopefully that will work.  And if one of them is reading this, they should know that it better work!  ;)

In other happy news, I talked to the lady from Utah again yesterday, and her son will be flying out to stay here on Saturday!  I'll then get to take him to Church this Sunday! 

Now I'm waiting to hear back from a lady from the Triangle Center.  I'm inquiring about their methadone maintenance program and how all that works.  And on another - but similar - note, another woman, not a guest, who had asked if I could take her to Decatur for detox earlier this week skipped that.  It was the same woman I had took there before, only to have her runaway from it.  (See the article "Another Day at a Sober Living Home")

Ahh, well.  Hopefully next time.

Pictured: Barbecue yesterday, barbecue tomorrow, all quiet this evening!

Bed Available

I knew the signs.  First his flat screen tv disappeared, in theory gave back to his ex-girlfriend, me, I suspected pawned.  Loss of some tools.  Later, loss of job.  Yes, the signs were there.

I talked to him.  Asked if there was any concerns or troubles he had that could be aided in.  He said there wasn't.  I reminded him that it's always better to come and talk first, not let things get out of hand.  He agreed, but said that everything was okay.

I let it go at that, but with a sinking feeling.  I sensed he was not being as honest as he could be. 

I won't hold a person's feet to the fire, though.  My father was a big one on a person (child) having to admit everything and be very sorry for it at once.  I know from growing up that way that such isn't very helpful.  If something is going wrong, you'll soon enough see it without having to force a confession.

I left him with assurances that he could always talk to me, and left it at that.

The next morning, I talked to him again.  While he was waiting on his ride to his last part-time work project that he apparently hadn't lost yet.  I didn't talk about anything addiction related.  Just talked.  He's a nice guy.  Pleasant to talk to.  I actually admired the guy, a body builder, but still cool to nerds like me!

He had nothing to say on any addiction subject either.

He left.  I went to do an errand, because I was putting off what I'd be doing next.  Which was to search his area in the Liahona Home.  That's not done very often, and there has to be plenty of cause.  I'm a private guy myself, and am happy for them to have such tiny bits of privacy as is possible in a group Sober Living home.

But it is a Sober Living home, so ultimately, and at times, there's a search.  Sometimes that goes well, and nothing is found.  In which case I know they're hiding it very well, or took it with them, as if I'm searching, there must have been a heckuva lot of reason to in the first place!

Other times, like now, I find something.  It's pictured.  Heroin "works", which just means the stuff you use to deliver heroin to your veins.  The baggie had a bit of pot.  The brown cotton balls and stained spoons mean at least some heroin had been done.

I looked all over for the heroin itself, though most of the time (99%) the addict will take that with him.  It's always kept very near and dear to their hearts, oft times literally, sometimes in a shoe or their underwear.  But you never know, and I can't have the stuff in the house.

I didn't see any.  So then I laboriously unrolled all his socks.  Nothing.  Shook out all his clothes.  Re-folded them.  Nothing.  Pillow case clear.  Mattress, nope.  I went then to change the door code.  The handy thing about electronic door codes is you never have to worry about getting the key back. 

I went to do a bunch of errands, and let one of the guests who was likely to get home before me know what the new code was.  I got back in plenty of time to be there before the person who needed to leave could arrive, though.  But oops, not early enough, he had already been there.

Like I said, he's a nice guy, though.  He already had his stuff packed up ready to go, and had gone again to find a place.  I asked the other guys to let me know when he came back for his stuff so I could talk to him. 

Instead, he texted one of the guys to put his stuff on the porch, and then got it quietly without anyone seeing him arrive or depart.  I've seen that before.  It's when they're still on the good side of humanity and know they did wrong, and are sad, not mad.

As was I.  Sad, not mad.  I wish I had been able to talk to him.

I messaged him instead.  And let him know that if he wanted to detox or go to a program we could get him back on track to come back here.  Sometimes that even happens.

We'll see.

I wrote this the day after.  It's been more days since.  He's not answered.  I'm sorry for that.  I hope he answers one day.  Every one deserves a second chance.  Or as Jesus Christ said, seventy time seventy chances! 

Quite a half week!

First I had to explain to those in the Liahona Home that I was still a Mormon. They had seen my facebook post about leaving the Church and were concerned.

That was actually touching - but somewhat expected. They aren't Mormon, and don't follow the precepts, and are no strangers to coffee drinking, smoking and swearing, but nevertheless, they know I am a Mormon, and were concerned for me. They were worried that I was hurt. And for if things would be the same at the Liahona Home.

As an alcoholic/addict, I understand. Continuity is important to all recovering addicts/alcoholics. I assured them I was still a Mormon, the Church was still true, all would remain the same at the Home, and that this was purely a personal difficulty with some few. They understood that. They each have been hassled and hurt by "Shelter Kings"* before, they know that Shelter Kings are sobriety killers.

But it was odd. Because right after I saw first hand how reformed alcoholics/addicts who are in recovery need peace and continuity, I had opportunity to deal with two active alcoholics/addicts who are suffering from lack of continuity.

Yesterday, I dealt with some "potential future clients". Two heroin addicted women who needed to move. Immediately.

The house they were staying at was one of those random houses that the homeless and addicted coalesce at. Such houses will be empty, abandoned, for sale, or in this case, a person is kind of renting, but about to be kicked out, so lets a variety of anyone and everyone stay there to milk as much money and such out of the place as they can before leaving.
 

In this case, some woman (a veteran) was about to be kicked out, and so was letting a variety of heroin and meth addicts stay there. They'd provide her with a bit of money, and drugs. Meth, for her, that was her thing, and not the bad enough normal meth, but the utterly horrific "shake and bake" meth. Then, as is inevitable, there was a bust. The putative renter was took to jail on an outstanding warrant, everyone else knew they'd have to leave.

So the two heroin addicts that I had been working with needed to leave. They had no place to go, but they had stuff to move, and one of them had a daughter. The daughter was willing to hold her mom's stuff for awhile, but not up for putting up mom. That's no reflection on the daughter, it's hard to put addicts up.

I helped the two load up their stuff and moved it to the daughter's house. It was sad. I've seen such drug houses as they were moving from before. They all look vaguely the same. The residue of "shake and bake" meth, made out of kerosene, Sudafed and a variety of other crazy stuff, most all poison. Needles. Burnt spoons. The needles and spoons are for heroin.

And yet in each of these houses I've been to, you see small little human tracks. From when they were human, or when they imagine they'll be human again, or for (mostly) the bit of humanity that still struggles within each addict to still keep being proper, to still try to "pass" as "normal" no matter how absurd that looks to the non-addicted.

What are those tracks? Personal touches. Photos of family. A child's homework put on the fridge with a magnet. Silly knick knacks, be it an Elvis plate or some reward or certificate from when life was better. From when life was "human".

In this case it was some family pics and some military commendations. And don't even get me started on how much business for me our military generates. We're all "for our troops" - until they're home from one of our "wars of the week", then there's jack squat of benefits and help available for them. Correction - there is such help, but it all assumes they haven't resorted to drugs/alcohol while waiting for a disgustingly long period of time for real help.

But such personal touches are indicative of a person who has fallen very far, but still retains some hope of groping back up to the light. Their addiction has them in a murky swamp of despair, desolation and depravity, but far up above them, they see the vague glow of the sun shining on that distant surface of the swamp water. They want to go up to it. A part of them yet yearns for the light.

But they can't. Not yet, or they'd not be there in those depths. They're not quite "sick and tired of being sick and tired", so instead of asking me to take them to a detox or rehab, they want to secure their stuff, while they find another place to flop at for awhile. I know this for a fact, as I always offer to keep their stuff myself, and then take them to a detox, and then give them a place afterward. My own place. And since they're not ready, they decline.

Why do I aid them when they're not quitting? Well, trust building, as I mentioned in previous article. They have to know you're there for them. And because they are human, our brothers and sisters in Christ, who do need help, even if they are the victims of their own poor choices. Their own abused free agency.

The stuff they wanted moved and preserved safe was valueless. To you or I, that is. But very valuable to them, as it's all they have. Most of it goes in garbage bags or random boxes, or even a sheet upon which much can be put and then picked up by tying the corners together. I've moved plenty, and know all the tricks. They were amazed at how fast I was able to move them. But some reading this aren't amazed!

I took the two women to the house of one of their daughter's. I unloaded the stuff. The daughter was not surprised to see them, but asked who I was, with some suspicion. They let her know I'm that "sober living guy" they had apparently already told her about. I learned, with no surprise, that I had been discussed before. I've had that happen before, you see. Some what routinely. The daughter was relieved that I was still helping, in spite of her knowledge that it might be hopeless.

Addicts are adept at knowing who is trying to aid them or not, and if they come across someone who's going the extra mile, they marvel at it, and speak of it to their "set". Their "set" being such "normal" friends and family who have not quite abandoned them. I suppose I should be flattered, and in a way I am. At least in the sense that I get that it might aid them in calling me later if they decide to truly reform.

You see, there's other "aid workers" out there that are collecting notches on their belt, and trying to make the addict dance through hoops for the aid worker's purposes. There's a real quid pro quo and tit for tat that these alleged "aid workers" try to exact. It can be as minimal as "say you believe in our cause, politics, religion" to...well, far worse. Some times disgustingly worse, or so I've heard, and in some cases, so I believe. So the addict is always surprised and pleased when no "payment" is required. In any form. Surprised - and still often, a bit suspicious. Hence why trust building is so important, and such a long process.

Why women? Well, it's guys and gals I help, just in this case it happened to be two women. I used to focus exclusively on guys, but since the second house is so close to up and running I work with aiding both now, to get the word out that there may be aid for them from me. Each of them talked to gets my card. One day it may pay off.

The second house? Well, as most of you know, the roof is on the second house, so all that needs finished is the basement. I filed my claim with the State of Illinois yesterday, so in the next month or so I should have a check for $2,515 to pay off roof repair loans and get the plumbing fixed in the basement.

Then I'll be able to aid women, for the first time, as well as the men I've been helping all along. At Oxford House sober living homes, they have some houses that serve men and women, mixed. Me, I think that such is a mistake. And sinful. So I have one house for men already. Only men. And the second house will be for women only. That way I can help both, without leading either to temptation. And the strife that always occurs when you mix "romance" with "maintaining sobriety".

Then today (Saturday as I write this), while doing a variety of lawn work for some friends, I had opportunity to deal with the third woman. The woman who had been the putative renter of that very house that the two had moved from.

She was texting me to let me know that those two had robbed her. Now I happened to know that this was not true, mainly for having had been there. See, the renter - the lapsed and non-paying renter - had been hosting more than half a dozen meth addicts, none of whom were the two I helped. They no doubt did rob her, while she was waiting on her bail hearing to get out of jail.

She is under the impression, sad to say, that she has no problem with drugs. That she has my card should have told her otherwise, as I have to pay for those cards, and only give them to those who I know for sure need them! I counseled her as best I could. With a mind to getting her to realize she needed to make changes in her life.

Okay.

And there was more for me to deal with this past half week. Unrelated, I have a new guy at our sober living home. Just arrived, when a bed came open for having had to have a guest leave. The new guy has an arraignment this upcoming Tuesday, for a felony charge. Which as he heard from the others who stay there, I could probably get him out of any prison time. And true enough, ordinarily I could.

But he has four previous felonies, and that's a bit beyond my powers. The District Attorney is offering 3 and 1/2 years of prison if he takes a plea. He was hoping for probation. I had to regretfully advise him that while I might be able to help aid him in shaving that down to 2 years (one year with good behavior), getting him probation was beyond my abilities.

And even the "shave" would take some extraordinary efforts. True, I can speak well to DAs (from sad experience and much practice) and usually informally negotiate some consideration, but four felonies make a DA salivate with the thought of a sure-fire belt notch.

I outlined all he would have to do. Strictly adhere to all rules, never commit another offense, go to AA meetings, get a job, some how scrape up $1,500 for a real attorney (public defenders being as bad as the movies tell you), and have me, his girlfriend, and his mom by his side every step of the way. And too much more advice to go into.

Because District Attorneys eat lone and friendless defendants for lunch.

So there's that also making this past half week hectic.

And to top it all off, there are the five people who I introduced to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and who then, in the two cases in the United States, personally baptized. They wondered why I left, and I had to assure them that all was well, the Church is true, and this is just my own difficulties. I succeeded, I think. But I have two more people that are soon to be baptized (the sixth and seventh) that also wonder, and I am having to work with them on this, to make sure their baptisms still go through

Tomorrow, or "today" since it's 12:46am as I write this sentence, I would ordinarily have a great "day of rest". Where I get the joy of going to Church.

But I'm not sure what to do about that this Sunday. Stay home and pray, go to a different church, or go to another Church of my faith, just elsewhere. I've narrowed it down to "not go to a different church". But whether I stay home, or drive a long way to a Church of my faith, I've not decided yet.

I'm sure it will be okay, though. I've a good feeling about everything, particularly since I left the "situation" that was causing me grief, and am sure it will all work out in the end.

So. That was my last half week. Not so different than most weeks. All in all.

* "Shelter Kings" are people who join a shelter six weeks, six months, six years or whenever long ago before you do. And so have some position of authority that is meaningless to those outside the shelter, but that still lets them exercise absolute power over you. If you're a Mormon, read D&C 121:39.

It was the best of times and...yeah, still the best of times!

I'm now $1,000 in debt, owe another $360 in fines, still need to find a way of buying some gutters, have gave so much plasma I feel like Casper the Anemic Ghost, have maxed out all credit, overcharged so as to give myself a short term loan with the "overage fees" as the soon to be due "interest", have begged, borrowed, and plead with everyone I know from my high school days till now, and given no end of grief to any who in the least showed sign of interfering in the slightest with this crucial project.

And now it's done! A new roof, and the City of Springfield off of my back, no more threats of homelessness - which are quite frightening to one who has been homeless - and I'm set now to burn ahead into making both these Homes into real showcases for what real and proper aid can be delivered to those who - like me - suffer from alcoholism and addiction!

So I'm incredibly happy! True, I'm still a bit peeved at the State of Illinois that it had to be this way, but mostly I'm happy!

Brief description of peeve - I had previously earned all the money to do this project, and to have it done professionally, with all the insurance worries took care of by the hired contractor, and not having to worry about a thing! Yet the State of Illinois, for whom I worked, has not paid me. At all. This led to the situation of the first paragraph, where I had to go to extraordinary lengths to get this done in time!  With no money!!

Okay! Back to the happy part! Yeah, I'm happy! Because I'm suspecting that it went down this way to teach me some valuable lessons!  A miracle, some would say, and yes...I think so!  With a very specific miracle to make sure I knew it was a miracle!  (I'll get to that part!)

You see, because looking at it in the proper way, I'll be having that $1,000 paid off probably within two months, three tops, and the City can wait till I'm good and ready for the fine, which yes, I'll work out a payment plan with them! And I give plasma all the time anyway, and so am really only extra tired from all the extra work! And oh, yeah, I don't have credit to "max out", it just feels like it!  True, I'll have to pay off some $30 overage fees, probably several, but I'll get it done!  And any friend upset at me borrowing or begging was no friend at all, and healthy dissension with some who tried to slow me down is good, and oh, yeah, did I mention I have a new roof so it's all good no matter what?

Why else am I happy? Well, I learned some valuable lessons, like for one, my reputation is a bit better than when I was an active drunk and sinner! I've a great many good friends, and more to the point, they have seen that I have really reformed! And these aren't just fellow alcoholic friends, but "real people" who have succeeded in life, and that is great comfort and solace to me! 

And because of them seeing my reformation, they have really and truly been there for me in a pinch! I could not begin to express what it's like to see so many good and decent people from all walks of life come to aid me!

Oh, wait - I can give a small idea! Remember in "It's a Wonderful Life" when George Bailey was in trouble and all the townsfolk came to dump money on his table to save him from a great deal of trouble in his time of desperate need?

It was like that with me!

I was in desperate, desperate trouble, having earned the money I needed to do this on my own, but then had it had withheld from me by the State of Illinois, and the City was going to green tag my house and make it so I could not live there! With various other dominoes tipping from that point, I could well have lost everything I've worked for! (And if I were still a sinning drunk, I know I would have.)

But I - prudently skipping the jumping in the freezing river and meeting up with the angel Clarence part! - explained the situation to everyone I knew, mostly via facebook, and I was saved! 

Literally saved!

I had old friends from my college days aid me, and Brothers and Sisters of mine from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints aid me, and a very great leader in our Church reached down to lift me up with a very timely loan!  An incredible loan, very large, done on nothing but a handshake and a smile, and that with the aid of a select few of other wonderful Church members really saw me through this trying time and made possible the materials needful for this!

I was also blessed in another way, one that touched me very much. I needed a great deal of labor - skilled labor. And there it was, embodied in the men of the sober living home I've been running. For at least three of them work as construction workers for general contractors.  And one had been a roofing contractor most of his life!  If you know anything of sober living homes, you'll know that such a fact doesn't always mean very much, as most Homes are run in a fashion that there is some odd antagonism between the helper and those helped.  An antagonism that I dislike, and have strove to make sure does not exist in our Home!  As I always say, "The goal is that you succeed!"

One guest was only there for one day when it came time to do all that skilled work on the roof - and another had been there for nearly a year. Yet another had been kicked out twice, but accepted back for a third try! But regardless of time in, they were all behind the project 100%! And the three who had the specific time and skills for it, did so, and at a discounted rate so discounted, that I'm just treating it as a gift!

And unless you know any roofers who expect only $6 per hour and free lunch, then yeah, it was a completely selfless gift, and loving act of pure charity! (I had waived a program fee for each one who aided, which worked out to about $6 per hour for each of them for the three days of work they each did.) Most touching of all, they hadn't asked for it in advance, but when they volunteered it to aid me, I offered it to each of them!

This wasn't any haphazard work by the way. This was as professional as it comes. Thanks to other aids from Church Brothers who loaned air compressors and nail guns, tools and tarps, and invaluable safety aids, and everything else needed to make it go smoothly. With some of the Sisters providing the food and the men of the Liahona Home bringing their own tools!

What a three days! Friday, Saturday, and yes, though I hate to do work on the Sabbath, Sunday, when it became necessary. I'm beat now, typing this up. But exhilarated! I see a clear road with limitless possibilities now! This was the last real impediment to success, though I credit my Brothers and Sisters at Church for aiding in brushing away the previous roadblocks before this final one!  And the wonderful guests and friends of the sober living home!

I also believe in my heart in a genuine miracle. It was an odd one, and some would say a small one, which convinces me all the more that it was a real genuine Miracle, capital "M". Each day leading up to the roof needing done, another thing would come up. Another bit of money would have to be found, another bill deferred to pay for this or that material, another tool found from some friend, more plasma donated! Always another thing and fewer and fewer people to ask each time, as one hates to be a nuisance!

And finally, on this last day, we were short several items and I had some how pulled it off - in three trips to Lowes, on this very last day, and doing that overage thing, I'd got all the supplies needed, and no more could be got! But then - a roof vent was lacking! And needed!

True, some might say you don't "have to have to" have one, and I had four others, two for each of the other two sides!  But it does let heat build up and decrease the life of the shingles. And if you know the City of Springfield's Building and Zoning folks - and you can bet that I do! - then you want to make sure not to have left off anything obvious!  Like a given section of the roof having no vent!

But what to do? No money left at all, I have to wait to Tuesday just to go give plasma to have gas money! No one left to call, heck, was there anyone I hadn't called? *really and truly blushes* Man, do I hate asking for aid! Even for loans! It makes me cringe! And had it not been for Mr. Potter - er, the State of Illinois...grrr!

And just when I was about to give up hope, and take my chances doing it wrong, a friend of mine who is a guest of the Home, and who was doing the lion's share of the roofing work, called down to me from the top of the roof and said, "Isn't that a roofing vent over there?" And pointed to the back woods behind my house, where there was no earthly reason for a roofing vent to be!

And yet...it was! An old roofing vent. Why there, I've no clue. No, it wasn't pristine and shiny and new, that would strain credulity, but while it was old, and dirty, it was serviceable, and is now appropriately installed on that side of the roof, all in conformance with accepted codes and practices!

A miracle. Or so I believe. I mean, c'mon, what other explanation could it be? Random people leaving roofing vents in the woods by a railroad track behind my home, not to be noticed till today by the roofer who needed one just then that very moment?  A beer bottle left, yeah, I'd believe that, given the neighborhood, but a roofing vent?  A miracle is the simplest explanation and I'm sticking with that!

And it heartens me! And affirms my goals, my plans, and all my dreams! And makes me all the firmer in my resolve to push forward! I'll be doing other things on the houses now. The basement plumbing fixed. Painting. Landscaping. Curbside appeal.

These two houses will be showcases, and their own best advertisement for any who need such aid! And soon enough, by the end of the summer, I sense that self-sufficiency will be a real possibility!

I think...I think I may have just arrived! Not in the sense of material wealth, but more importantly, in spiritual and social wealth!  I think I'm finally getting it right!

Thank you to everyone!  For seeing in me the "try" that I've been striving for these many years!