The request to visit Georgie came via Canada Post. An elderly mother living in Toronto was distressed about her son who had been placed in a mental health institution in Moose Jaw, Sask. Georgie was perhaps five or six years of age mentally and emotionally, but he was trapped in the body of a 46-year-old. Standing 6' 2'' and weighing 240 lbs, he was an imposing man, yet he displayed many of the traits of a young child.
The year was 1979 and my wife and I were the corps officers in this southern prairie city. The government's process of de-institutionalizing many of Canada's most vulnerable citizens had not yet reached Moose Jaw. And so, on a wintry December morning, I set out to try and bridge the gap between a concerned parent and her adult child.
The mental health facility was massive. Navigating it required patience and perseverance. When I met Georgie, he spoke almost exclusively in monosyllables, punctuated by long periods of silence. His mother regularly sent care packages consisting mostly of clothing, and I gladly delivered them. Over time, Georgie and I developed a level of trust and the staff granted permission for me to take him out for short excursions in my car. On one such occasion, we stopped for ice cream, which Georgie managed to consume in three enthusiastic bites.
My visits extended over an 18-month period until one day I received an urgent communication from Georgie's mother. The administrator from the institution had just called her to advise that Georgie had died as a result of a major seizure. “I would be grateful, Captain, if you would collect my son's few possessions from the place where he lived.”
Her grief was significant, but in the midst of her tears was the sense that, through The Salvation Army, she had been able to provide a level of care for a son whom she deeply loved. It was a humbling reminder of the trust and privilege that is ours as Salvationists to serve those who are the most vulnerable in our world. They are more than statistics. They are people with names who deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. They have hopes and dreams. They need to love and be loved.
On Salvationist.ca, we have highlighted the ministry of Broadview Village, a place that has brought safety and a future to people with developmental disabilities for more than 40 years. It represents a host of other Salvation Army centres around the territory that have become a home for those who desperately need one. We salute the staff and volunteers of the Village and all of our centres who selflessly care for others.
At this Thanksgiving time of the year, may we not only count our blessings but look for opportunities to bless those around us who need it most.
Major Jim Champ is Editor-in-Chief and Literary Secretary for The Salvation Army. He is also a member of the Governing Board of the Canadian Council of Churches.
The year was 1979 and my wife and I were the corps officers in this southern prairie city. The government's process of de-institutionalizing many of Canada's most vulnerable citizens had not yet reached Moose Jaw. And so, on a wintry December morning, I set out to try and bridge the gap between a concerned parent and her adult child.
The mental health facility was massive. Navigating it required patience and perseverance. When I met Georgie, he spoke almost exclusively in monosyllables, punctuated by long periods of silence. His mother regularly sent care packages consisting mostly of clothing, and I gladly delivered them. Over time, Georgie and I developed a level of trust and the staff granted permission for me to take him out for short excursions in my car. On one such occasion, we stopped for ice cream, which Georgie managed to consume in three enthusiastic bites.
My visits extended over an 18-month period until one day I received an urgent communication from Georgie's mother. The administrator from the institution had just called her to advise that Georgie had died as a result of a major seizure. “I would be grateful, Captain, if you would collect my son's few possessions from the place where he lived.”
Her grief was significant, but in the midst of her tears was the sense that, through The Salvation Army, she had been able to provide a level of care for a son whom she deeply loved. It was a humbling reminder of the trust and privilege that is ours as Salvationists to serve those who are the most vulnerable in our world. They are more than statistics. They are people with names who deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. They have hopes and dreams. They need to love and be loved.
On Salvationist.ca, we have highlighted the ministry of Broadview Village, a place that has brought safety and a future to people with developmental disabilities for more than 40 years. It represents a host of other Salvation Army centres around the territory that have become a home for those who desperately need one. We salute the staff and volunteers of the Village and all of our centres who selflessly care for others.
At this Thanksgiving time of the year, may we not only count our blessings but look for opportunities to bless those around us who need it most.
Major Jim Champ is Editor-in-Chief and Literary Secretary for The Salvation Army. He is also a member of the Governing Board of the Canadian Council of Churches.
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