Last month I described a little of what happened at Mill Grove on
a Saturday. It was an attempt to answer the question, “What
really goes on, and how does it contribute to the development, healing
and well-being of the children and young people?” Let me share
with you a summary of how we think things work and then I’ll
tell you about half-term. Our mission statement concludes: “We
believe that shared living based on God-given rhythms and patterns
can provide a therapeutic context in which the deepest personal
and social wounds can be healed, and creative growth and expression
encouraged.”
So
how does half-term score set against that? Well, yesterday, eight
of us went swimming in Leyton Lagoon. In case you think this might
be a tropical paradise in East London, I ought to make it clear
that it’s an indoor swimming pool on the site of what in my
childhood were called the Leyton Super Baths. (There is a history
of hyperbole around here for some reason.)
My
wife and youngest daughter were among the party, together with a
mother and her two children, and finally two sisters from a family
nearby. We are all part of what has become known as the Mill Grove
extended family in that we have all stayed at Mill Grove, joined
in regular life including summer holidays, and somehow feel we know
each other as people do in families related by blood.
We
had eaten lunch together (well, actually I was chairing a meeting
of the local Children’s Network, a group of some 170 voluntary
organisations involved with children and young people in our Borough)
and as it was half-term there was plenty of time to spare. We must
have spent over an hour playing “piggy in the middle”
(sorry, but I don’t know the PC term for it) in the deep end.
As it grew darker outside we began to practise diving, and then
as the pool cleared we did some serious 
swimming.
There is a shoot/flume/slide and from time to time one or another
popped off to try their hand at getting down this at top speed,
but there is no way that that the afternoon could have been called
exciting. What I mean is that, having been snorkelling on a coral
reef in the Philippines, surfing in Cornwall, and diving into mountain
lakes and pools, this was a rather more ordinary sort of water sport.
So why was it special?
If
someone hadn’t asked me what was really going on at Mill Grove
I might not have thought about this (at least not within 24 hours
of the event). But here are one or two reflections on what might
one day be seen to have been significant. 
One
of the youngsters did his first dive ever. It wasn’t one that
would merit a perfect score in the Olympics, but he did hit the
water with his body before his feet! Others improved their diving
technique as I tried to give advice knowing that my own diving is
a constant source of embarrassment to my own family, only a little
less so than my attempts to play the cello. There was some good
technique in the game with the ball. But this wasn’t the main
point in my view.
None
of the children had had regular and positive contact with their
fathers for some time (in the case of two, in living memory) and
so they found themselves with Ruth and myself playing about as you
might in an ordinary family. It’s easy to underestimate the
gap that is left when there is no father around. We were, as it
happens, from different cultural backgrounds, some from England,
others from West Africa, and we were used to being together and
playing together irrespective of the colour of our skin.
The
mother of two of the children can’t swim: she never had the
chance as a child, and so she watched us for much of the time from
the comfort of the cafeteria, conscious that her children were enjoying
an experience that she had missed, and that without Mill Grove,
they might never have had. It was also important to note that she
knew she was accepted along with her children, but that is a long
and very emotional and emotive story.
Not
once did any of the youngsters need to be cautioned or confined:
they had internalised all the “rules” that littered
the walls of the swimming pool (as I travel I begin to realise that
this form of verbal pollution is a peculiarly British addiction).
It was just good fun to be together, relaxing, and comfortable with
each other and our surroundings.
When
it was time to get out, we journeyed back home together and had
an evening meal followed by some games, reading and a chat. All
in all, an uneventful day in half-term. But I hope that you can
sense that it had many of the features and ingredients that children
and young people need and long for, but sadly all too often lack.
It was a passing set of sensations and experiences set in the context
of long-term relationships and commitment.
We
will always be there for the mother and the children, as we will
for our own daughter. And it may be that one day they will realise
that it takes quite an act of will and planning for parents to set
aside a whole afternoon in half-term to play! One of the great factors
in the self-esteem of youngsters is knowing that parents can find
time to be with them, and create space for fun together.
By
the way, I enjoyed it immensely: what a pleasant change from meetings,
lectures and the office! And perhaps that helps too. It wasn’t
work, or a session. It wasn’t part of a therapeutic or treatment
programme. It was just part of life. That’s why we don’t
write about it very much, but possibly why it’s so significant.
And yes, we did look forward to the summer and how we were going
to enjoy three weeks or so together in North Wales. Now that’s
something really special, and it’s fun to be able to think
about it months beforehand, and to know that it’s all there
ready and waiting for us: sea, mountains, waterfalls and lakes!
Summer, of course, is another part of the seasonal God-given rhythms
of life.
Keith J. White lives and cares for children and young people
in Mill Grove where his family has lived for four generations.
Since 1899 it has been a family home where children unable
to live with their own parents have been welcomed
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