Holding the Hope: The Story of Equip

holding the

h pe the story of equip

by Hannah Dickson

thanks to Naomi Cowan Annette Denholm Pam Brady Carol Evitt Lynne Crawford Johnny Pullman Renier Greeff Lee Reygate Louis Tousain Roz Sorensen Grant Harris Service users

(names have been changed)

contents

foreword 4 introduction 6 if we don’t, who will?

chapter one |

9

how do you eat an elephant?

13

we don’t care

17

chapter four |

grow or die

22

chapter five |

in the deep end of the pool

25

chapter six |

on the main stage

34

conclusion |

recovery, and looking to the future

40

chapter two | chapter three |

last word

44

foreword A

s I look back over the 65-year history of Windsor Park Baptist Church (formerly Murrays Bay Baptist) it’s obvious that God has placed within the DNA of the church a heart for being proactive in response to needs within our wider community. This has resulted in not just theories and ideas, but positive action. This is exemplified in the story of Equip; a spark was lit within the heart of a few volunteers who had a desire to respond to the needs of people experiencing mental health issues who were increasingly located within the vicinity of the church during the deinstitutionalising of public mental health services in the early 1990’s. The idea gained traction as they were prepared to do something to meet these obvious needs.

A community-orientated ministry with small beginnings has resulted in what we have today, an impressive ministry intricately connected to the wider mental health sector in New Zealand, supporting people to grow by providing high quality services that meet needs and exceed expectations. It’s a history to be proud of.

During the past 30 years many Baptist churches have launched community ministries; in fact if we grouped them all together, the Baptist Churches of New Zealand would be the largest provider of community services within NZ—but because of our autonomous governance structures we don’t group them.

History shows that some of the greatest challenges this brings are sustainability and staying connected to the church the community ministry began in. To remain effective it is right that these are the big challenges, and ministries don’t stay effective without wise governance, excellent leadership and a strong intentionality to retain the Christian heart of the organisation, particularly as legal structures evolve such as what we see with the Equip Trust. I have a strong conviction about these things and, as Equip celebrates its 25th anniversary, I’m proud to say that Equip is both sustainable, well led and is well-connected to Windsor Park Baptist Church—it is a ministry of the church and retains its heart as a Christian response to need in our community, putting faith into action. I pray that this will always be the culture of Equip—outward focussed and Christ-centred. It’s hard, but essential, work.

Equip’s story is one of love and grace to some of the most invisible people with needs in our community. With evolving models of care, and an increasingly competitive environment among private providers of mental health services, Equip has always been open to change and innovation. It is obvious that this has been its story and long may it continue to be so. I pray that reading this story may not only inspire us, but challenge those of us who are followers of Jesus to continue being proactive and wise, taking calculated risks in order to advance the cause of the Gospel in the wider world, being the hands and feet of Christ.

Equip’s story is one of love and grace to some of the most invisible people with needs in our community.

A big thank you to all those who have been involved in making Equip what it is today; may the story continue to grow.

Grant Harris

Senior Pastor Windsor Park Baptist Church March 2017

introduction M

ichelle was angry. She’d made multiple suicide attempts, one of which had seen her lose the use of her legs. Her mental health issues and anger pushed everyone away—including those closest to her—and she wasn’t allowed to see her children because of her disruptive effect on them.

At the age of 38 she was put in a rest home because there was nowhere else she could go. But her constant talk of death upset the other residents and, after further suicide attempts, the home could no longer cope and she had to leave.

Her support team phoned Equip and let them know Michelle was coming to them.

Her package of care now included a Housing New Zealand flat, home help and a support worker from Equip. She had her own space, but the days were long and lonely. The anger remained, and filled up any space that would have allowed Michelle hope for the future.

She needed someone to hold the hope for her. Her support worker from Equip took on the role and with calm persistence set about finding something that would make Michelle want to get up each morning. She needed help getting her groceries each week, and while Michelle was very keen for her support worker to get these on her own, she insisted Michelle come along too. Despite her protestations, it became apparent that Michelle liked shopping. The weekly supermarket trips were transferred from a standalone store to a mall, and a cup of tea was added to the trip. When this was a success, the weekly visit included window shopping around the mall. Michelle’s confidence at leaving the house grew and she no longer baulked at being seen in public in a wheelchair. She began to want more than the weekly trip to the mall with her support worker, so sought help getting an adaptive car. She enrolled to do some study at Massey University. Her life started coming together and she was able to see her children at weekends. Then they were allowed to stay overnight. The next step was replacing the wheelchair with callipers. These days, she gets about on crutches.

Our biggest job is to hold the hope for people because often when you have a mental health issue, you lose all hope.

Nobody claims that life for Michelle for today is a bed of roses, but she now has a life, when many had written her off.

“People take little steps,” says Equip CEO Naomi Cowan. “Then you look back and think, ‘Wow, they have come a long way.’

“Our biggest job is to hold the hope for people because often when you have a mental health issue, you lose all hope. But hope is very contagious. That’s why we don’t hire cynical people. We want people who have a real belief in people and can honestly say, ‘I’m going to do my best to help you.’”

So in 2014 when Naomi decided to formalise the core values that had driven the organisation since its beginnings back in the early 1990s, she didn’t have to look far. She went straight to the team of more than 70 employees and asked, “What is it that we are known for? What are the intangible things that make us different?”

They came up with the following: • We put our faith into action • If we can say ‘yes,’ we will • Our people matter This is the story of how over 25 years Equip, originally named Te Ara Hou, developed and strengthened these core values, while sustaining intense growth during the ever-changing landscape of mental health care in New Zealand.

This account relies heavily on the stories and memories of the people who formed the building blocks of an organisation that is now widely recognised as a leader in its field.

Equip head office then and now.

chapter one 19 91 -19 9 4

if we don’t, who will?

T

he sense of urgency in the air was almost tangible when Peter Wyatt called a group of members of Murrays Bay Baptist Church to a meeting in his home one evening in 1991.

Peter shared his concern at what was happening to former patients as New Zealand’s mental health services went through a rapid transformation away from an institutional approach. He saw a gap in the chain of care and believed not only that members of the congregation could fill it, but they had an obligation as Christians to respond to the need.

A process that began back in the 1960s had seen the deinstitutionalisation of the mentally ill. Stories of those Peter Wyatt who had suffered over the years in the hospital system were widespread in both medical literature and popular culture, and psychiatric hospitals were widely regarded as antiquated and inhumane. Pharmaceutical advances meant patients no longer needed constant supervision in hospital to maintain their health, and outpatient care and community-based treatment was emphasised.

By the early 1990s almost all psychiatric hospitals in New Zealand were closed or rundown with a drastically reduced number of patients. As these former patients returned to the community, it became clear that while the stigma associated with •9•

holding the hope: the story of equip

mental health was not as strong as it had been historically, the community did not necessarily have the resources to support them. Those without supportive families or networks could find themselves in cramped boarding houses, where they struggled to cope with the demands, choices and everyday responsibilities associated with living outside of the institutions that had housed them for decades.

Auckland was particularly affected by deinstitutionalisation and Peter felt the church’s own backyard was the perfect place to start making a difference. His personal sense of mission was infectious and the group moved very quickly to establish a trust that would offer residential care funded by a contract with the Auckland Hospital Board.

After consultation with several groups, the trust was named Te Ara Hou, meaning new pathways, reflecting the opportunities it would offer those it wanted to help.

The original members didn’t have a background in mental health, but they had shared a keen desire to make a difference and brought vocational skills to the table that helped in the purchase of a six-bedroom home in Sunset Road, with a loan from the The Housing Corporation.

Alongside Peter’s personal commitment, chairperson Murray Olds had a banking background, Bob Wilson was strong on the business front, Earl Brookbanks brought planning expertise from his work with Auckland Council, and Pam Brady had strong people skills.

Once the house purchase went through, the trust appointed Annette Denholm as manager, and work began getting the house ready for residents. The first arrived at the end of September 1991.

It was very much a church project, with members asked to check their garages for spare furniture and household items. Annette and Pam Brady scoured auction houses and second-hand stores to fill the gaps.

Annette began to work closely with Auckland Hospital Board’s Floris De Groot, who she credits as being a valuable link between the trust and the psychiatric district nurses and social workers. This relationship helped ease initial suspicions from the hospital board.

“Initially they looked sideways at us, asking, ‘Who are these do-gooders?’” says Annette. “But having Floris on board helped hugely and he introduced me to the • 10 •

chapter one | 1991 - 1994: if we don’t, who will?

social workers and the PDNs. We developed a very close relationship with both these groups and they were hugely helpful to us and supportive.”

Floris also accompanied Annette when she visited the neighbours surrounding the Sunset Road house letting them know about the trust’s plans.

“They weren’t terribly keen,” remembers Annette. “But we invited them over to the house and they met with the trust. They were given my phone number and a number for Murray Olds. We were never called.”

As manager, Annette had strong views about who would come to live in the house and how they would be cared for, and her philosophy was a constant during her years as manager. Referrals came from a variety of places, including the hospitals, Baptist Social Services and families.

Annette and Barry Denholm

...they would say, ‘Don’t touch them with a 20 foot-pole’. I’d say, ‘Well, if we don’t, who will?’ Who was going to give them a chance?

“Right from the beginning we took on people nobody else would take,” says Annette. “I remember conversations with Baptist Social Services when I’d say we were thinking of taking so and so, and they would say, ‘Don’t touch them with a 20 foot-pole’. I’d say, ‘Well, if we don’t, who will?’ Who was going to give them a chance?

“We basically started off by treating these people as if they were well. Only when they became unwell did we treat them any other way. I wanted a therapeutic model, not a medical model, because most of them had been living under a medical model for years.”

The first group of residents in the house was a group of five—three women and two men. Another staff member, Shirley Smith, was employed. Like Annette, she had a nursing background, but no specific training in mental health. They worked a very small number of hours, with Annette totalling seven each week and Shirley five.

• 11 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

Subsidiary volunteer hours were provided by members of Murrays Bay Baptist, and the link between the church and the new residents was very strong. Each was assigned a ‘befriender’ from the congregation, with significant time and effort put into forging a relationship.

“The church was stunning,” says Annette. “All our people had a friend. They took them out for coffee, they visited them in the house they lived in, and they took them to the pictures.”

The highly personal, all-encompassing nature of the care was also reflected in the practical day-to-day running of the Sunset Road house. Pam Brady remembers her phone going with requests for everything from an element needing to be fixed to a strange noise to be investigated. Not only did the answering of these calls fulfil the mission aspect of running the house, it was also highly cost-effective.

Taking care of the practicalities of the house was one thing; taking care of the residents inside was another thing entirely. Personality differences were common, and Annette and Shirley frequently found themselves spread very thinly during their combined 12 hours in the house each week. A strong sense that they were doing “a God-given task” and a heart for the people they worked with, combined with a sense of humour, kept them going during some of the most stressful moments. House meetings were a way of addressing issues and resolving tensions—sometimes this happened in the most unexpected of ways.

“Shirley and I were both in the house one day and there was something going on between the residents,” says Annette. “All hell had broken loose. Shirley and I were sitting on opposite sides of the room and she looked at me and said, ‘It’s like’...she opened her mouth to say the word and was trying to take it back, but it was too late and the words came out anyway ...’It’s like a madhouse in here!’.

“You should have seen her face. She was thinking, ‘What have I said!’ I started to laugh, and the five of them started to laugh. They were rolling around on the floor.

I thought, ‘Where else could you share that sort of joke?’”

Not all conflicts were as easily diffused, and the dynamics changed with new residents and staff. The challenge of caring was just beginning.

• 12 •

chapter two 19 9 5 -19 9 6

how do you eat an elephant?

W

hen long-time hairdresser Carol Evitt made the decision that she needed a new direction in life, and wanted a job with more meaning where she could help people, she initially got more than she bargained for.

Carol joined The Te Ara Hou Trust as a support worker in the mid-1990s. Like most of the staff at that time, she was handpicked by Annette Denholm, and selected not for any experience in mental health, but for her personal qualities.

“We were small enough in those days that I could just tap people on the shoulder,” says Annette.

“The main criteria, apart from a Christian heart, was empathy. If people were empathetic, they could learn anything else that was needed.”

We were small enough in those days that I could just tap people on the shoulder,

For Carol, it was very much a case of learning on the job.

“During my very early days, I remember Annette taking me out to meet people. We met a woman who had many, many problems. When I got back in the car I looked at Annette and said, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, or where to even start.’

• 13 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

“Annette turned to me and said, ‘Well how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time!’”

That was the nature of caring at this stage. Residents in the house were at varying stages of independence and often lacked the basic life skills needed for independence.

Staff helped residents manage the chores associated with living in a house, they helped them cook and plan meals, and accompanied them on visits to doctors, or the bank, as needed. For those who had spent the majority of their adult life in an institution, the practicalities of cooking and cleaning could be completely outside their experience and skillset.

Annette says it was often a case of breaking down tasks into the smallest of steps.

It wasn’t just about reminding them it was their turn to cook dinner that night, it was talking about counting out the potatoes to make sure there was enough for everyone, then showing how they needed to be peeled, then put in the pot to be boiled.

“They were exceedingly institutionalised,” says Annette.

The success of the Sunset Road house meant that Te Ara Hou was getting noticed.

It was clear that the need was not going to go away and the results had been positive. They negotiated to run more houses, and by the end of 1997 there were seven residential homes, with 20 residents. As time went on Annette and the trustees felt more confident in the process, and more able to have input into how things would be run. With Sunset Road they had bowed to pressure to make it mixed gender, but Annette was determined to introduce some single-sex houses.

Carers invited them to their private homes, took them out on family outings, and they were encouraged to attend church activities.

She felt strongly that, because some of the women residents had been abused in the past, it wasn’t appropriate for mixed housing to be their only option within Te Ara Hou. The hospital board agreed with the request.

While the numbers of residents increased, the style of care remained mostly the • 14 •

chapter two | 1995 - 1996: how do you eat an elephant?

same. Clients always had the home phone numbers of staff and would call with concerns at any hour. Carers invited them to their private homes, took them out on family outings, and they were encouraged to attend church activities.

Carol remembers meetings with families of residents that would end with a singsong around the piano at the end of the evening. While some people found that awkward, it was part of the family-oriented values that were encouraged.

Staff sat it on meetings with social workers from the health board. Carol says the hierarchy in the room was very obvious.

“The social workers led the meetings. We’d sit with the consumers around the table, and they would be the directors of what we did. We were governed by them; that’s one thing that would change over the years. We were very much considered the benevolent women.

“But even though we were the benevolent ones, bubbling up inside of us was a desire for something more,” she says.

“But even though we were the benevolent ones, bubbling up inside of us was a desire for something more.”

While the caring hearts went a long way, there was a growing desire for more structure in the day-to-day care of the residents. Annette was already studying counselling practices alongside Elizabeth Jones, who would follow her as interim manager. But a desire to upskill the staff led them to the work of Ian Falloon, the head of psychiatry at Auckland Medical School.

Professor Falloon’s Integrated Mental Health Care (IMHC) programme was based on a philosophy of encouraging the potential for change, rather than simply providing support and developing skills. He advocated giving patients and their families the skills to manage the condition themselves, teaching them about medication and how to set goals and solve problems.

Carol was one of the first of the carers to do Professor Falloon’s course. She laughs at her transformation from someone who left school thinking she couldn’t achieve academically, to someone who relished the opportunity to take on • 15 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

higher learning. She recalls gaining a new confidence that would, in time, give her the assurance to challenge recommendations from medical teams when she believed they were not in the best interests of her clients.

By the time Annette Denholm left Te Ara Hou at the end of 1995, the organisation had grown beyond the expectations of those who started it, but it was still small in comparison to other non-Governmental organisations (NGOs) operating on the North Shore. New staff members included Naomi Cowan and Lynne Crawford, who would join Carol Evitt as the organisation’s longest-serving members of staff.

The church and its members remained a constant source of support, but the political framework the trust was working within became more complex

The church and its members remained a constant source of support, but the political framework the trust was working within became more complex. The area health boards controlled the contracts providing community care, and the expectations on non-profit groups were becoming increasingly demanding.

The trust tentatively started looking beyond its group homes and towards supporting people living in their own accommodation.

It was time to look at the services that were being provided and see how they could exist within the policy framework that was developing.

• 16 •

chapter three 19 9 7- 2 0 01

we don’t care T

he tension in the air was palpable as newly appointed manager Johnny Pullman began speaking to a group of staff and supporters about his plans for the future of Te Ara Hou. He’d made no secret of his belief that the organisation needed to make some changes, but not everyone was prepared for the very first slide in his PowerPoint presentation. It showed a shark swimming on to the screen with the words; Te Ara Hou, We don’t care.

Johnny Pullman

”When the opening slide went up there was absolute silence, then there was the sound of chairs moving. People were startled enough to drag their chairs a bit as they shifted in their seats. Then I heard someone say, ‘Well if we don’t care, what do we do?’”

That was just the opening Johnny needed to share his vision for the organisation’s future. While many in the audience may have been startled by the concept of a new outlook, he’d already shared his concerns and proposals with the board, who were on the same page and had already been discussing with management the need for progress and associated change.

In answer to the audience member’s question, Johnny explained that he believed the organisation needed to professionalise. In practise that would mean more training for staff, the full integration of Ian Falloon’s Integrated Mental Health Care programme and a shift in mindset as to how staff viewed the people they were working with.

• 17 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

“Things were being run on a carer, or paternal model. It was perhaps an emotional response to the needs of mentally ill people,” recalls Johnny.

He had enough experience in the mental health sector to know that organisations started by churches could often get into difficult situations, especially as they grew.

“Often they go in with a gospel orientation and then make some horrendous mistakes through not being professional enough and not understanding the disorders they are working with. There’s something fantastic at the heart of it, but there can be chaos along the way.”

The challenge for Te Ara Hou, says Johnny, was to maintain the Christian heart, but introduce new strategies that provided more options for the people it wanted to help.

“We needed treatment that looked like recovery for people, which looked like giving them their life back, rather than just being nice to them.

“I was bringing the idea that we would professionalise the organisation, but that didn’t mean losing what was Christian at the heart of it. ‘To professionalise, but not secularise’ was a phrase I used a lot.”

“I was bringing the idea that we would professionalise the organisation, but that didn’t mean losing what was Christian at the heart of it.

For the staff, the changes came quickly. A few struggled with them and moved on, but a core group stayed. Naomi Cowan, then working as a support worker, recalls the change in emphasis.

“The way we were supporting people was very much telling them what to do.

You told them, ‘This is a good thing to eat, this is when you clean your oven, this is when you get up.’ It was very directional care and still quite institutionalised.

“Back in those days we would invite them home for dinner. There were no cell phones so clients would ring us at home and that was ok,” says Naomi.

• 18 •

chapter three | 1997 - 2001: we don’t care

“Johnny brought a re-education to us as workers, and we had to work differently.

Suddenly we had cell phones and clients weren’t to call after hours. We weren’t to give them gifts or tell them what to buy.

“The work became more self-directed by clients. The message was, ‘We don’t care’; what it meant was we are going to respect them to make their own choices.

And we will walk alongside people rather than ‘do’ support to or for them.”

Working to the Integrated Mental Health Care model meant sitting down with clients and their families and working through specific paper-based modules.

There was a variety of responses from clients.

“Some still wanted you to do things for them,“ says Naomi. “But the surprising thing was who flew.”

Their increased qualifications gave staff the confidence they needed to follow through with the changes to their roles. Although hitting the books again sometimes took a little getting used to, as Lynne Crawford remembers.

“When Johnny came and said you’re going to enrol to do some papers, I said.

‘Girls from council houses don’t go to uni you know’,” she laughs. “But he was such an encourager, that yes I did go and do those papers and it was such a growing experience for me. It was so equipping.”

Adds Carol Evitt, “There was always a yearning to have a little more knowledge.”

As well as training existing staff there was a drive to bring on more experience.

Psychologist Renier Greeff was already supervising Johnny Pullman, but his scope was widened to offer this support to all the staff members. This was the beginning of a long-standing collaboration that continues today, with Renier, now based in Australia, still involved in the organisation’s recruitment processes.

Renier’s work with staff was two-fold and an important rung on the ladder to professionalism. During their regular appointments with him there was the opportunity to monitor their own well-being and ability to cope with the stresses of the job, and also to be coached on how to handle the issues their clients were facing. He guided them through the transition from using their inherent skills in compassion and caring, to putting into practice the skills they were gaining through their specific training with Ian Falloon.

• 19 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

There was a lot of emphasis on keeping clients safe, understanding the models they were working with and being increasingly professional in their conduct. Renier says the commitment of the staff and their ability to cope with the changes was admirable.

In hindsight, he says, Carol and Linda had the perfect prior experience for the job.

“Some of best people you can employ are hairdressers,” he says. “They can talk to anyone and are very adaptable. They had amazing skills.”

Another significant appointment that was revolutionary at the time was Bev Selby’s recruitment as a service-user representative. She, and others who have followed, added the voice of personal experience and helped shape developing services.

“This was in the day before anyone thought you should hire consumers as consultants,” says Johnny.

Getting the balance right between a professional model and maintaining the Christian heart of the organisation, along with maintaining the active relationship with the church, was an ongoing process during this period. It was helped by the commencement of a chaplaincy programme, under the umbrella of the church and with its financial support.

“There’s this line you have to walk,” says Johnny. “You’re not a church, you’re not the government. What is it that you’re doing? We were there doing mental health work, not evangelism. But even non-Christian people acknowledge there is a great depth to mental illness that includes spiritual things. The question was, how do you give people choice and support without manipulating them?”

Getting the balance right between a professional model and maintaining the Christian heart of the organisation, along with maintaining the active relationship with the church, was an ongoing process during this period.

Whereas in earlier years the support workers may have grappled with these issues themselves, being able to refer clients to a chaplain helped them maintain professional boundaries.

• 20 •

chapter three | 1997 - 2001: we don’t care

“Our role as a support worker was coupled with spirituality, so it was very hard to be the bad cop when you were meant to be Christ in a situation,“ says Lynne. “So it was awesome when we could say, ‘There’s a person who works with us who might be able to help. Would you like to talk to them?’”

While the need for professionalism was a significant motivating factor during this time, there was another - far more pragmatic—need for change that was becoming increasingly obvious. There was a risk that Te Ara Hou wouldn’t survive the significant shifts happening at a funding level, as it became apparent the DHBs were becoming less inclined to deal with smaller organisations.

Johnny admits he had a few sleepless nights going over figures and possible scenarios in his head.

“I knew enough to realise that the contracting environment was going to get a lot tougher. We were far too small and in the wrong part of the business with either no, or very small community care contracts. We were locked into this sixbedroom house residential thing. I don’t think we were regarded as a player by the funding agency.

“We were doing really great work, but my worry was that we were going to lose out to the politics around town.”

One of Equip’s community flats.

• 21 •

chapter four 20 02-20 0 4

grow or die A

solution to the limited size and scope of the organisation came via what was already a positive working relationship with another Baptist trust, CORT (Community of Refuge Trust), established by Ponsonby Baptist Church. It was facing a very similar dilemma to Te Ara Hou, realising it either needed to get larger or get out. After more than a decade in the field, the CORT trustees decided to withdraw from community support work and focus on providing houses, a significant part of its mission.

There was still a year to go with CORT’s Level 1 contract with North Health, but thanks to negotiations by the managers of the two organisations, the DHB agreed to hand the contract over to Te Ara Hou for the remainder of its term. This essentially doubled the staff and client numbers, giving breathing space in a time of constant change.

Shortly after the changeover, Johnny Pullman resigned leaving the manager position vacant. It seemed obvious to everyone, except her, that Naomi Cowan should take over the role.

“They offered me the manager’s job, which I didn’t go looking for,” says Naomi. “About halfway through Johnny’s time he called the staff together and said he needed a 2IC and that we should decide who it should be. The next moment they all swung around and said, ‘Well, it’s obvious it’s Naomi.’ I remember thinking, ‘What’s obvious about it?’”

• 22 •

Naomi Cowan

chapter four | 2002 - 2004: grow or die

Needless to say, it was an ideal fit. And while Naomi figured she could always go back to being a support worker if it didn’t work out, this appointment would take the organisation far. Despite her initial hesitation, she had a clear vision for the future and a mandate from the board.

“Without anyone spelling it out, I knew we had to grow or we wouldn’t be around. We also had to mature a bit because we were seen as the dogood Christians. Johnny had helped start that process, with the move to professionalism.”

Following the success of maintaining the contracts inherited from CORT, Te Ara Hou was able to reconfigure its Level 1 contracts to Community Support Work (CSW), providing care in the community for 100 service users and five FTE staff.

I knew we had to grow or we wouldn’t be around. We also had to mature a bit because we were seen as the dogood Christians.

Achieving this required some determined marketing. The organisation had to be prepared to stand tall and sell itself and its points of difference to the DHB. Collaboration with CORT continued. The change in model from looking after people in homes run by Te Ara Hou to supporting them within the community meant they needed independent accommodation. CORT was often the existing landlord for new Te Ara Hou clients. The trust filled an important role providing housing for people who often struggled to get their name on a lease in a market where commercial landlords were less than sympathetic to tenants with no credit rating, let alone those carrying the stigma of mental illness.

One of Equip’s community flats.

Expansion required a new skill set. As more staff were employed they needed ongoing training. Naomi also recognised that Johnny Pullman’s departure had taken away the evidence-based proponent in the organisation, and that needed to be replaced.

• 23 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

Robyn Gedye came on board bringing experience in research and as a trainer in Ian Falloon’s Integrated Mental Health Care programme. Much of her role included compiling reports on outcomes to funders, something almost no other service providers were doing at that time. Common practice included reporting numbers of staff hours delivered and clients seen, but Robyn’s went much further. Her use of the Current Psychiatric State interview, CPS-50, developed by Ian Falloon and his team, was able to quantify the progress being made in the lives of service users.

“We wanted to know one thing, were we making a difference?

“We wanted to know one thing,” says Naomi. “Were we making a difference? These reports helped to tell us that.”

Following the success of the reconfigured contracts with the Auckland DHB, the same process was followed through with the North Shore contract—again providing the capacity for 100 clients and five FTE staff.

It was during this time that the organisation’s name was put under scrutiny. A Maori name was chosen at its inception, but by the mid-2000s there was some question from Maori as to why an organisation that wasn’t a Maori specific service should have a Maori name. The board decided to explore a name change and asked the staff to use a retreat day to brainstorm a new, simple name that would sum up what they did. Equip was chosen and the name change became official in July 2004.

It was yet another marker of how the organisation had changed since its inception. The previous two years had been a big transformation, going from 20 clients to more than 200. Such significant growth required taking things to the next level in everything from leasing vehicles to Human Resources policies. Despite the inevitable growing pains and uncertainty of change, there was a strong sense that the organisation was on track. Some clients who had been with Te Ara Hou for a long time started to make significant progress. Having their own space with their name on the lease was an important part of their journey to recovery and independence.

“A number of people I had seen stuck for a very long time actually did very well.

That was the sobering reality,” says Naomi.

• 24 •

chapter five 20 05 -20 0 6

in the deep end of the pool W

hile a significant period of growth in its Community Support Work (CSW) contracts had halted the threat of a decline for Equip, there was certainly no time to rest on its laurels. The question ‘What’s next?’ was one Naomi Cowan and the board constantly asked.

“CSW is the shallow end of the pool. We needed to get into the deep end,” says Naomi.

• 25 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

That opportunity came with an invitation to tender for a Level 4 contract, which meant providing 24-hour care within a residential setting. It was a considerable leap from the community support Equip was undertaking at the time.

“I will give credit to the funder of the time, Bram Kukler, who we had a strong working relationship with,” says Naomi. “He said that if we were ever going to be seen as credible, we needed to get in the deep end. I remember being terrified.”

Equip won the contract after pitching a model where people would live in a row of two-bedroomed flats rather than in one big, communal house. A staff member would be on site around the clock.

“Most people don’t want to live with four or five other really unwell people, and this was preparing them for when they moved on,” says Naomi.

Although Equip wasn’t the only service provider using this model, it was certainly an innovative idea and helped them win the contract. Such success for a relatively inexperienced organisation raised a few eyebrows, but there were several reasons it was inspiring such confidence.

The outcome reports collated by Robyn Gedye were a strong point of difference, as was Equip’s emphasis on recovery, which was very much part of the Mental Health Commission’s emerging values. But perhaps most significant was a capability and capacity study conducted by the Waitemata funder, which assessed several NGOs in the sector. Equip came out as one of four strong organisations to back.

However, winning the contract was just the tip of the iceberg. Level 4 residential care was uncharted territory for Equip. In partnership with Housing New Zealand, two sites were found, one in Hillcrest and one in Rodney. Each provided five beds.

“This was a whole different ballgame of clients,” says Naomi. “We were dealing with people with far greater needs and complexity. I lost a whole summer barely sleeping after we got this contract. I realised we didn’t really know what we were doing, but I knew people who did. I realised I needed to hire new people and get a team leader who knew the space.”

• 26 •

We were dealing with people with far greater needs and complexity.

chapter five | 2005 - 2006: in the deep end of the pool

The team leader position went to Lee Reygate, who had previously worked for Pathways, a large mental health service provider, and now works in planning, funding and outcomes for the Waitemata and Auckland DHBs. He relished the chance to work from the ground up in an area he had specialised in.

“It was a fun time because Equip didn’t have policies, which at the time was a breath of fresh air,” says Lee. “But we had to start developing them. Then, once you have the policies, you have the Catch 22 scenario of following them and keeping them up to date in a constantly changing environment.”

Lee’s experience was around service design and focus, making sure everything met regulations and that staff knew what was required of them.

“There was a lot more medication compliance work to do, working with pharmacies and prescribers. The CSW teams hadn’t had to do any of that. This was a whole new ballgame,” he says.

“Equip had a lot of very experienced people, but little on the clinical side. Admittedly when we get clinical people, we want to knock that out of them because it’s not a clinical environment anymore, but at the same time you need that experience and wisdom.”

New staff to join the team included Sue Erby, who came on as quality manager.

“We were fortunate we had this pool of people who were really experienced; it wasn’t just one or two super-people,” says Lee. “It was great having Robyn there, she was like the conscience. Renier was also very instrumental. He supervised all the staff and was very good at reading their mood. He’d tell Naomi and I when it was time to back off and when people were happy and we could keep on pushing.”

• 27 •

Renier and Heather Greeff

He’d tell Naomi and I when it was time to back off and when people were happy and we could keep on pushing.

holding the hope: the story of equip

Renier Greeff was particularly mindful of staff well-being during times of intense change. As the organisation grew, the group dynamic and associated expectations inevitably started to change.

“Initially it was this little family business and everyone knew everything about everyone. Now we needed to start looking at systems and processes, and it was at small business size. We didn’t start meetings asking how the dog was or how the family was doing.”

Level 4 care may have brought a whole new raft of responsibilities and requirement, but to a certain extent the core focus stayed the same.

“We wanted people to move down the recovery journey and hopefully never need us again, or only need us sporadically. That was always the intention and we doggedly stuck with that,” remembers Lee. Recovery and moving on meant different things to different people. Sometimes small moments showed just how far people had come, says Lee.

That letterbox meant her mail came to her, not to staff.

She saw that as a real sign of independence.

“I’ll always remember one woman who moved into her own place and one of the first things she said was, ‘I’ve got a letterbox. I haven’t had a letterbox since I was a kid.’ That letterbox meant her mail came to her, not to staff. She saw that as a real sign of independence. Often it can be those simple things in giving people their lives back that make all the difference. The good thing is that once that happens, they suddenly want more.”

The work of supporting service users through to recovery took many forms and Equip was consistently innovative in its practices.

Transparency was important. Staff were encouraged to write their notes in front of their clients, who were in turn encouraged to contribute.

“Changes in technology and the growth of tablets meant staff were able to take the computer into the client’s space. Maybe they wanted to be able to read their notes, maybe they wanted to write their notes. The thing was you could actually do it with them,” says Lee. • 28 •

chapter five | 2005 - 2006: in the deep end of the pool

Key appointments during this time were those of a dietitian and a housing facilitator.

“It didn’t make sense to me that people were having to live independently in the community but didn’t know how to eat well or affordably,” says Naomi, who used

Over the years Equip has been characterised not only by its innovative care for its service users, but its care and commitment to the people who work there. a discretionary fund to offset the cost of the position that wasn’t funded. “The same applied to housing. It didn’t make sense that everyone was running around trying to find rentals. That needed to be centralised, with a go-to person who could help staff do that.”

Services that are now considered core, were highly innovative at the time.

“Equip was bringing on initiatives like these when no one else had even thought of it,” says Lee. “A number of years later people suddenly started realising how important diet is for mental health and well-being.”

Over the years Equip has been characterised not only by its innovative care for its service users, but its care and commitment to the people who work there.

Staff who were around in the early days speak fondly of staff retreat days where there was just as much emphasis on team bonding and self-care as there was on strategy and forward planning. This remains an integral part of Equip’s DNA today.

“I decided really early on that I wanted this to be the healthiest workplace people • 29 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

have ever been a part of,” says Naomi. “If we can’t do that, what on earth are we trying to do out in the community?”

Staff are offered external supervision, and birthday leave. Staff reps meet with the CEO every month to let her know of any concerns. Three times a year everyone gets together for a fun day, paid for by the social club.

Part of keeping the workplace happy is making sure that the right people are employed in the first place. Since the early 2000s Renier has done psychometric testing with applicants to help assess their suitability.

By assessing everyone who was already in the organisation, he was to develop a profile of the personality type that would fit in and excel at the job. That’s not to say every employment decision has been a resounding success, but a solid recruitment policy helps avoid costly mistakes.

“We have to screen,” says Naomi. “Who we get on the bus is really important. It doesn’t mean the people we don’t let on the bus are bad people; it’s about fit and alignment. Skills are important, but so is alignment.

“At interviews we remind people who we are, that Equip was started by Windsor Park Baptist Church [formerly Murrays Bay Baptist], and ask them what would be the rewards and challenges of working in a faith-based organisation. We let them know there’s a karakia every morning and we pray at things. They don’t have to embrace that, but they have to understand that’s what drives us.”

The leadership never wavered in its commitment to a faith-based organisation.

That driving force never changed, even during times of growth. While occasionally questions were raised over whether a move away from the church roots were inevitable, the leadership never wavered in its commitment to a faith-based organisation. Future ties were cemented when Equip renovated its former motel-block premises next to Windsor Park Baptist and made that its permanent home.

• 30 •

chapter five | 2005 - 2006: in the deep end of the pool

homeless for five years A service user’s story

W

hen his work in the theatre and a carpet factory in Sydney dried up, Simon had just enough money to pay for his airfare back to New Zealand. He figured he’d live with his partner and son, but when he got home he discovered they were living with other people and there wasn’t room for him.

“So I went to the night shelter. I had no money at all. I could not keep staying there so I slept wherever I could. I am ashamed to say it now, but I slept in rubbish skips, in rugby fields, disused warehouses and building sites.”

Plenty of construction work going on in Auckland meant Simon could usually find somewhere to sleep and he stayed on the streets for five years.

I am ashamed to say it now, but I slept in rubbish skips, in rugby fields, disused warehouses and building sites.

“I would find a place to sleep each night and in the morning I would go the Salvation Army and do some vacuuming and help sort clothes that had been donated. In return they would give me coffee, food and clothes.

Often I would get lunch at the City Mission, Methodist Central Mission or the Salvation Army. It depended on the day. A lot of people helped me out.

Because I had no fixed abode it was difficult to get and keep a benefit.”

Things got complicated when companies started hiring security guards for their buildings. When Simon was caught, the police were called and he was charged with trespassing. On one of his court appearances, the judge looked at Simon’s emaciated frame and asked how his health was.

“When I told him it was not good he asked me how I would feel about a stay in North Shore Hospital. I was keen on that idea. I was admitted to • 31 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

For the first time in five years I had a great bed, a roof over my head, treatment for my depression and rest

the North Shore mental health acute ward. It was great because for the first time in five years I had a great bed, a roof over my head, treatment for my depression and rest. I stayed there for 20 weeks getting better.”

The hospital stay was followed by a six-month stay in a residential care facility in West Auckland, where Simon learned the basics of shopping, cooking and cleaning—things he had forgotten how to do during his time on the streets.

“But I told my clinical worker that I wanted to live nearer to my partner and son, so I got the chance to move to Equip’s facility at Hillcrest. I was offered a two-bedroom flat which I shared with another service user and we got on very well. The staff at Equip were all fantastic and helped me to re-learn self-care skills. They helped me learn to manage my own money, do my own shopping and manage my medication.

“I felt cooped up during this time. I was used to the homeless lifestyle and I hadn’t really connected in my head that I could do things. It was a big adjustment to be settled, which may sound funny but that was how it was. I felt I was not in control. My flatmate really helped me with this. She confronted me and told me that I did have freedom, and that I could and should go out and do things. I remember she said to me, ‘Simon, you are not homeless now, so you need to stop acting like you are. This is what you need to do for yourself. You need to shave, use deodorant, wash your clothes and make a good impression on people.’ She really helped me get control of my situation. She got me smart. She was a good friend to me and will always be a good friend.”

I was used to the homeless lifestyle and I hadn’t really connected in my head that I could do things.

• 32 •

chapter six | to the present day: on the main stage

During his time at Hillcrest, Simon started going to the Living Room at Windsor Park Baptist Church and made some good friends there. His next step was moving into his own flat, and Equip staff were on hand to help him settle.

“Finally I had a place that my son could come and see me in that was mine.

I still see my partner too,” says Simon.

“One of the workers challenged me—he said “Simon you have your own place now; is it time to set some goals for your future?’”

Simon was supported to enrol in a film and television course, fueled by his enjoyment of acting. He went on to attend a year-long foundation course at the University of Auckland for adults wanting to explore study.

“This required support with essays, text books and bus passes to organise.

I was also linked in to a supported employment organisation, which got me cleaning work at the local mall.”

When he was homeless, Simon carried around a book of psalms, his favourite was Psalm 40.

“It talks about how you are never alone in your circumstances and I have to say that I have found that to be true. God has always been there with me and my prayers have been answered. A lot of people have been that answer to prayer.

“Equip has made a huge difference to my life and has always been there for me. I don’t need their support now because I am independent and can get myself places.”

• 33 •

When he was homeless, Simon carried around a book of psalms, his favourite was Psalm 40. It talks about how you are never alone in your circumstances

holding the hope: the story of equip

chapter six to the present day

on the main stage A

sk current chairperson of the board Roz Sorensen to sum up Equip’s scope today and she does so in a succinct sentence; “A faith-based mental health provider delivering innovative and flexible services on the North Shore and across greater Auckland.”

Before coming onto the board six years ago, Roz was familiar with Equip as part of her work with the Waitemata DHB as a mental health portfolio manager.

Equip stood out for its flexible and innovative approach to both new and existing services.

Roz Sorensen

It’s about giving it a go, but not without giving due consideration and putting safety measures in place.

“It’s about giving it a go, but not without giving due consideration and putting safety measures in place. It’s not about saying they can do things when they can’t, but being prepared to come to the party and asking what they can do.”

Roz is particularly proud of the way that flexibility has continued, and cites the development of the respite service and transitional care as examples.

The respite service provides 24-hour support in a home-like environment for people needing extra support for a short period of time. The house was adapted • 34 •

chapter six | to the present day: on the main stage

to meet as many needs as possible and has a games room and outdoor space. A stay here by service users often means a hospital stay is avoided.

In a similar vein the development and purchase of transitional housing was the result of seeing a direct need in the community and working out how to meet it. There was a concern that people were staying in the acute unit at North Shore hospital longer than was ideal because there were few options for them in the community. Accommodation options were limited for people who couldn’t provide landlords with a reference, or when there was concern as to whether they had the right practical skills to look after themselves.

“After a stay in transitional housing they can be given a certificate to say they are now ready to pick up a tenancy, be it independently or in a flatting situation,” says Roz. Although there was no contract for the transitional housing, as such, many of the clients fell within the criteria of current CSW contracts and accessed those support hours with the agreement of the funder.

That kind of flexibility is admired by funders, says Lee Reygate, former general manger at Equip and now a portfolio manager for Auckland and Waitemata DHBs. “We rely on services showing initiative, and as much as possible, we give a fairly loose description for agencies to run to. Certain agencies, and Equip has always been a good example, will take the initiative and run with it,” says Lee. Community Support Work remains Equip’s bread and butter and the board is proud of the way it delivers this core service.

“Service users supported by an experienced support worker get a more considered, holistic care than if it was purely clinical,” says Roz.

Certain agencies, and Equip has always been a good example, will take the initiative and run with it.

Support workers work on establishing social connections and friendships, improving links with family, establishing hobbies, and setting and achieving employment goals.

• 35 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

“All these sorts of things are critical for maintaining wellness,” says Roz. She cites the Older Adults Community Support Service (for adults over the age of 65 who have experienced mental illness) as an example of how experienced and trained support workers can make all the difference.

“A regular older adult worker might go in and see if you want your floor vacuumed or some help with your washing. But a mental health older adult support worker will look at what you were doing before you became depressed or unwell and will say, ‘Ok you used to go to bowls once a week but now you’re not comfortable going out your front door. Let’s make a plan about that and over a period of time we will get you walking to your letterbox to collect your mail, then we will work up to getting you back to your usual routine.’

“The fear of doing these things can be crippling but the older-adult support worker has strategies to support an individual make a recovery and get their life back.”

Older adults are further served with The Totara Club, a community dementia day care service run within the Windsor Park Baptist Church complex. Roz say there was a significant community awareness programme involved in the opening of the service.

“We ran a dementia forum to cope with the opening of the day programme so that the church and the wider community were aware of what dementia is all about. Sometimes with mental health—and dementia—there is fear because people don’t understand it,” says Roz. While the board endorses each new initiative, it has a very defined governance boundary which is very different to the organisation’s early years.

Sometimes with mental health—and dementia— there is fear because people don’t understand it.

“As Equip has matured and grown, there have been changing expectations,” says Roz. “The DHBs certainly have the expectation that NGOs are structured and function in a certain way. As a charitable trust we need to have a board with a distinct governance function that is separate to the operational management of the organisation.“ • 36 •

chapter six | to the present day: on the main stage

Totara Club at the Windsor Park Baptist Church site.

Much of the operational side of the organisation falls on the shoulders of the general manager. Louis Tousain, who held the position from 2012 until early 2017, says keeping the organisation running smoothly involves continually asking the same series of questions: Have we got the right staff? Are we delivering what we are paid to deliver? Are we working in a safe way? Are we working in a therapeutic way? Are we efficient?

“Management is complicated; health management is possibly more complicated than any other field. To illustrate this, look at someone who is running a retail shop.

Who are their customers? It’s easy to say.

“But if you look at us, who are our customers? You could say the funder who is paying X number of dollars for us to deliver so many hours. But are they the customer, or is it the people we deliver the service to and their families? Or is it the Board of Trustees, or is it the Ministry of Health. Health is complex because at the end of the day there are many people you need to make happy and comply with their expectations.”

When walking the tightrope of caring gets wobbly, Louis says he looks back to Equip’s origins.

“I’m always aware of holding the balance of why we exist. It’s the human touch and the caring element, as well as providing what we are paid to provide, and being efficient and safe and maintaining compliance standards.”

• 37 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

Epsom Social Group Christmas picnic.

Louis believes that while the future will undoubtedly send more challenges and demands Equip’s way, it will be able to cope because its strong business model and innovative strategies are underpinned by a solid foundation.

“It’s the nature of our job that we work with some people who are very high risk. And at the end of the day things can go wrong in any business. But with our systems, our training, our recruitment, our follow up and our assessments, we are doing everything plus. You have to have confidence in that otherwise you wouldn’t sleep at night. And I sleep like a baby.

When I look back I think our foundation will always be our Christian faith and that is well and truly alive.

“When I look back I think our foundation will always be our Christian faith and that is well and truly alive. I also think another strong foundation is our staff. There are organisations that are dependent on the CEO, or the general manager.

But we have a culture where people are coached well, trained to think for themselves and make decisions. The organisation is in good hands.”

That knowledge has freed CEO Naomi Cowan to spend more time contributing to the sector as a whole. She is currently Chair of Platform Trust, a national body which represents the mental health and addiction NGOs who hold 90 percent of the NGO funding spend.

Naomi was part of forming first the Waitemata Stakeholder Network, and later Navigate for the Northern regions. These organisations encourage collaboration between NGOs in the sector and give them a united voice when it comes to funding and policy.

• 38 •

chapter six | to the present day: on the main stage

“Our dream was that we would begin to shape how services are delivered,” says Naomi. “And we’ve got there.”

Roz Sorensen believes being in the national arena is vital for future growth.

It’s great for little old Equip, the do-gooders, the nice church people. We’re on the main stage. There’s that faith element right there.

“We are raising the profile of Equip, but also keeping in touch with what is happening in the sector. It gives the opportunity to talk about what we are seeing in the front line at Equip every day. It’s really important that Naomi is there having the conversations and being part of the solutions.”

Naomi says Equip is now in the position where, along with other NGOs, it has the knowledge and position to influence the decisions around mental health care at the highest levels.

“It’s great for little old Equip, the do-gooders, the nice church people. We’re on the main stage. There’s that faith element right there. You never know where things are going to end up.”

• 39 •

conclusion

recovery, and looking to the future A

mericano, black, with a couple of sugars—the order is the same every morning, and when Jane arrives at her favourite cafe at 7am it’s usually ready and waiting for her.

She’s been starting her day this way ever since she had a breakdown well over a decade ago. It was her support worker from Equip who recommended the early start with her favourite brew, but the beverage is incidental. What Jane is really doing each morning is embracing life and her own self-worth, things she was ready to throw away during some of her darkest days.

Maintaining a strong routine is one of the ways Jane stays well, and she seldom has a cup of coffee without offering up a silent thank you for the organisation that helped her through a very difficult time.

“I wouldn’t be living the life I am now if it wasn’t for Equip,” she says. “In fact, I’d be under the ground. I have no shame in saying that.”

In the mid-2000s Jane was living a very different life. She was holding down two jobs—one as a practice manager for a busy city law firm, and another doing sales in the evenings and weekends—so she could support her daughter. Her partner was both physically and emotionally abusive, and both her parents had died a few • 40 •

conclusion | recovery, and looking to the future

years earlier. To the outside world, everything looked fine, but Jane was struggling to hold things together.

To the outside world, everything looked fine, but Jane was struggling to hold things together.

“I started drinking—but only on a Friday and Saturday night because I knew I could be fine again in time for work.”

But one night she was found by police at Browns Bay Beach; she’d fallen and was covered in cuts and bruises. They took her to the mental health unit at Waitakere Hospital and it became clear she was very unwell.

After three weeks there, she was transferred to North Shore and then given the all clear to go home. Her doctor referred her to Equip.

“I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to go back to everything being normal.

But I realised I had to resign from both my jobs. In hindsight, I’m actually pleased I had my meltdown because otherwise nothing would have changed.”

To begin with she saw her support worker for three hours a week.

“The first girl I met was really nice. She was so soft and gentle. She would just meet me in a coffee shop, but would always choose somewhere quiet where no one else would hear what we were saying. Then she left and I had another lady who I didn’t have the same rapport with. So I actually said, ‘I’m finding it very hard to open up and talk to you.’ She was so good, she didn’t take it personally.

She said she’d talk to her team leader and see if we could swap. I thought that was amazing.”

Jane’s next support worker was a significant part of her recovery.

“Toni helped me so much. She integrated me into other organisations within the community and made me feel I was worth something. That was a big thing for me after all those years of being made to feel I was a waste of space.

At times, this was the most important social contact in Jane’s life. She loved her daughter very much, but battled with feeling she’d be better off without a mum • 41 •

holding the hope: the story of equip

who couldn’t cope. For the most part her friends deserted her when she became unwell.

“I don’t think they’d even known anyone with a mental illness. They were scared.

They probably thought I was going to attack them with an axe.”

On several occasions it all became too much and Jane attempted suicide. Her recovery was gradual, and baby steps were celebrated.

“Some days I didn’t want to get out of bed, but Toni didn’t give up. She’d be there banging on the door saying, ‘Come on, I’ve already ordered your coffee.’ She’d talk me round, and of course she knew how much I loved my coffee!”

By the time Jane left Equip a couple of years ago, she was receiving one hour of support once a month. But she hasn’t quite left. These days Jane is part of the interview panel that selects new community support workers recruited by Equip.

“My first thought was, ‘Wow, someone actually trusts me,’” she says.

Jane enjoys being able to put her first-hand experience into use, and relishes the chance to give back to an organisation that has been a pivotal part of her journey.

Jane enjoys being able to put her first-hand experience into use, and relishes the chance to give back to an organisation that has been a pivotal part of her journey.

She can tell pretty quickly if someone is right to join the team.

“I’m looking for someone who is genuine, and honest and open.”

Jane is one of Equip’s stories; she is one of the many lives that has been changed thanks to a small group of people who wanted to make a difference. Twentyfive years later, the organisation is far larger and more influential than its founders could ever have imagined, but the same passion for people and care remains at its heart.

• 42 •

last word

A

s I look back over the more than 25 years that make up Equip’s history, there are some things that have changed significantly and some that have stayed exactly the same.

The Christian heart of our organisation beats as strongly today as it did when a small group of dedicated people got together and decided to do something about the very real need they saw close to home.

Equip continues to be a Christian response to need in our community. We have a highly skilled and committed team who live out our core values—we try to say ‘yes’ if we can, our people matter and we are a Christian response to need.

For any not-for-profit organisation to remain viable and effective today, it needs to be responsive to the needs of the people it serves and the staff it employs. It is vital to be nimble, innovative and able to adapt to everchanging funding and service delivery models.

Equip has continued to do that without losing its Christian heart. The unsung heroes in this story are the many volunteers from the Windsor Park community who have served on the Board of Equip over the years.

They have set the strategic direction and held the leadership accountable.

Te Ara Hou/Equip would not exist without them.

Our overarching goal for the future is simple. Equip will continue to support people who experience mental health issues to become re-connected into their family/whanau and communities. We long to help people discover their purpose in life and we strive to do this with compassion and empathy.

The story of how Te Ara Hou/Equip started and grew, is a living example of what can happen when a group of people commit to following a nudge they felt from God. It’s often far more than originally imagined. I hope you feel inspired to take some risks, and follow any nudges that may be God asking you to be his hands and his feet in a hurting world.

Naomi Cowan CEO