Lighthouse

They warned me that this would happen, and I should have expected it. I work at a Rescue Mission, and they said that after awhile I would get attached to the guys who are in the program recovering from various addictions. That’s exactly what’s happened. As you might imagine, the turnover rate at such a place is awfully high. Sometimes the past catches up with the “programmers,” as they’re known (although I’ve never been fond of the term), and they end up having to finish out a jail sentence. Sometimes the strict schedule and rigid code of conduct is more than they want to put up with. The ones who don’t successfully complete the recovery program either leave or are dismissed, and then others come and take their place.

My job is to help the ones who dropped out of high school to prepare for the GED tests. For those who’ve already got a diploma (or its equivalent), I help refresh their skills so they can make the transition back into the workforce.

I’ve been at the Rescue Mission for about a year now. I’ve got a long list in front of me of all the guys in the program I’ve worked with so far. It’s been a privilege to listen to every one of their stories. They’re regular people, and they’ve made their share of mistakes just like all the rest of us have. At certain points along the line, our stories seem to intersect. Everyone there (including me) can testify that drugs never did them any favors. At other points, our stories diverge, often going in opposite directions. I’m glad I didn’t have to completely hit bottom before getting my life turned around. At the same time, I’ve got no reason to look down on anybody who did.

The occupational hazard has always been that I would eventually become not just their teacher but their friend. I think a lot about how far they’ve dreamed of going and how far they’ve left their past behind.

Randy and Eddie are the two who were around when I first started. Randy was a farmer a few years older than me whose life was practically destroyed by meth. He graduated from the program in May. Eddie has always wanted to design lowriders. He’s going to college for the first time in his life next Monday.

One Kevin has been a butcher for many of his 34 years, but he is determined to become a hunting and fishing guide, and I think he’s going to get there one day. The other Kevin has always worked on trains. Because of his patience and persistence, he’s going to start earning his certificate in diesel mechanics in January.

Then there’s the new guys. Some of them seem to be in it for the long haul. Some of them don’t make it. No, not every one of the men has a miraculous success story to tell, but thank God, they don’t all end up back in a downward spiral to relapse, either.

I still worry about Todd, who has a passion for horses and was a very successful jockey for awhile. He had to deal with some stuff at home and so he left. This week, Lynn, the ex-hockey player with a hilarious sense of humor, had to go, and it’s been sad, to say the least. I’m reminded of him every day because we’re still keeping his dog. I realize that the only constant anymore seems to be change, but that doesn’t make saying goodbye much easier.