Room at the inn: shelter marks anniversary by shifting to 24-hour operation during holiday cold snap

The humble poverty of the Nativity has long inspired special care for the poor and sick at Christmas, but this year’s record-breaking cold brought the Catholic Charities Men’s Shelter compassionate service for homeless men to new and warm levels.

The shelter moved to 24-hour service over the holidays, allowing its guests to stay indoors through the day and offering heartening services as well. 

The special programs coincided with the celebration on Dec. 8 of the first anniversary of the shelter’s opening at its new Comox Street location in the former nurses residence at St. Paul’s Hospital. The old shelter, at 150 Robson Street, closed in late 2020 after offering services for 61 years. 

Celebrating the shelter’s first stable Christmas in its new location, manager Solomon Atta said the goal this year was to create a community spirit. “Christmas is a very special time for families, but our guests here, many of them do not have that connection so we are trying to fill that gap,” he said.

Staff staged a Christmas party for the second-floor guests on Dec. 17, featuring cake and gifts for residents and Carmelite nuns attending. On Christmas Eve, a staff member played music for the guests and curfew was extended two hours to 10 p.m. Turkey dinners were served Christmas and Boxing Day.

With the arrival of below-seasonal temperatures, the shelter decided to provide 24-hour service for guests from Dec. 25 to Jan. 3, allowing them to remain past the usual 8 a.m. checkout. 

Atta said the shelter couldn’t have provided the 24-hour service without volunteer support. “I must say we had huge support from Catholic Street Missionaries and St. Mary’s Parish. They volunteered throughout the 12 days,” he said. “That was really, really a huge blessing.” 

Guests also received Christmas cards made by local students, a $25 store gift card, and a personal-care package from the Richmond-based Giving Truck, a non-profit program serving homeless and marginalized people.

Finally, Atta lifted the 90-day maximum stay limitation to allow guests some stability through the Christmas season. 

Under its normal normal schedule, the shelter opens its doors at 4 p.m. and provides its guests with coffee and snacks. The men are served dinner at 6 p.m. and breakfast in the morning before they leave for the day at 8 a.m. They’re given a meal ticket for the nearby Gathering Place Community Centre, where they can get a hot lunch.

“So we take care of every aspect of food,” Atta told The B.C. Catholic.

The shelter boasts a substantial suite of services for guests, including a bed, showers, personal-care kits, clothing services, storage space, haircuts, medication storage, free pharmacy delivery, and case-management services to support housing, income assistance, job search, and medical services.

At its new location the shelter is situated on two floors, the main one comprising two wings, the St. Benedict Wing and the St. Matthew Wing. There are 85 beds (with a further eight held back because of pandemic restrictions) with room for 23 extra floormat beds on especially busy nights.

The shelter’s second floor is a first-of-its-kind, 26-bed space for vulnerable guests discharged from hospital and needing more recovery time. Residents with a medical referral to stay on the second floor, which operates 24 hours a day, have access to a bed and meals and a health liaison who helps them with appointments, medications, and therapy.

The unique second floor was created to model the “compassionate spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ,” said Atta, making it a valuable contribution to health services in B.C. 

Second floor resident Jonathan Jagt, undergoing medical treatment that requires regular hospital visits, said he appreciates the space offered to him, along with the peace and quiet.

“I can be stable here and be close to my appointments,” Jagt said. “The support I get is crucial for my recovery.” 

Opinion

An unexpected doorway to understanding God’s grace

By Nicholas Elbers

When I sat down while reporting on Christmas activity at the Catholic Charities Men’s Shelter, I had no intention of talking to Derek. In fact, I almost didn’t notice him. I was in a rush; I had to get home to prepare for Wigilia – Polish Christmas Eve dinner – with my in-laws. 

I was visiting the upper floor of the shelter to interview another guest. Derek was sitting quietly, watching my conversation with that guest. Because I’m not a particularly outgoing man, I surprised myself when I turned, unprompted, and asked, ''What is your name?”

I got the feeling people didn’t ask him this very often, and we didn’t talk for long. He told me he has always lived in Vancouver, except for a brief stint in Winnipeg, where he considered buying a house, but that the cold winter drove him back to B.C. 

He also said he had recently been hit by a car when the driver ran a red light, and that he is grateful the Men’s Shelter was able to take him in once he was discharged from St. Paul’s Hospital. 

He alluded to some problems with addiction that had complicated his relationships with his family, specifically his sister. He said she had found it difficult to see him hurting himself, but now that he had a safe space to clean up, their relationship is starting to repair itself. 

My last memory of Derek was a warm smile and a “Merry Christmas.” 

In reviewing my notes of that conversation, I felt uncomfortable and couldn’t help but feel that my perspective was skewed. Derek was close to tears when he said how much he had missed his sister. I, on the other hand, was stressing about Christmas with family.  

Reflecting on Derek’s situation made me realize that we often frame the problem of suffering incorrectly. We focus on our own discomfort and pain when in reality we should be searching for the grace being offered through the suffering, not just to us, but those around us. In some ways the accidental qualities of our suffering are a mere distraction from our vocation to love others.

Just hearing Derek’s story gave me a glimpse, however small, of the incredible tapestry of God’s providence – the tapestry in which God has, in his love and kindness, interwoven Derek and his sister’s story with my own. 

I will never know whether Derek understands the grace that was offered to him – and to me, for that matter – by that speeding car. But, for my part, it seems almost miraculous that so much good has come out of the accident. Derek has been in recovery for a few months, and he was hoping to see his sister at Christmas for the first time in years. 

Beyond that, this brief glimpse into his life gave me a new appreciation of how I might live my own life better attuned to God’s grace. I found myself looking at the preparatory work I needed to do for Christmas and reflecting on the ways it would open our house for a joyful celebration with family. 

Talking to Derek taught me that, when God’s grace works in our lives, we become co-conspirators in his creation, and by participating in his love we aid in the weaving of his tapestry. Our conversation gave me a small sense of the infinite complexity of God’s grace, even in pain and suffering.