"Bless us our Lord, for these our gifts ..."

Photo by Sandra Redmond

Sybel Pina (top of page, holding child) is a victim of domestic abuse. She left her partner and is now helped by the mission.

Lines are what most of their lives are made of. Lines to enter. Lines to eat. Lines for supplies. Lines for clothing. Lines to leave. And then it's the same routine the next day.

And the day after that, which turns into 20. Then 30. Pretty soon, it's hard to tell whether it has been 30 days or 30 months. Sometimes, 30 years.

The homeless who gather outside of the Eureka Rescue Mission go by many names and come from many different places. There's Justin McCartor, originally from New Jersey, who occasionally stays at the shelter. There's Susan -- just Susan -- who hates the Denny's nearby. She tells of how she went in one day for a cup of coffee. Her mother was going to come in and pay for it, but the manager didn't trust her and told her to leave. Told her to get out.

They all have their stories, but most just keep to themselves. They don't want to share their stories with anyone. Some can't even remember how or why they became homeless. Some, though, aren't alone. Pat and Lori Carrington have four children: Cheyenne, Kiano, Noah and little Shannon, a newborn baby. They come to the shelter because they don't have a choice. They need to eat and sleep, after all. Truth be told, some are not happy with the Rescue Mission. According to the mission guests, it is based on a highly religious philosophy of changing souls before the down-and-out can even expect to change their lives. The guests are given this philosophy whether they like it or not. Still, it's not that bad. Pat was once provided with a camper for his truck by the mission.

"Can't complain about that," he said.

Mission Director Matt Magill gives details of the mission's history, verbatim. It was founded in 1967 by Dave and Marabelle Eitzen. The mission is nondenominational and is funded entirely on donations. There is no government assistance because the federal government will not give commodities to an institution that preaches religion of any kind.

"The Rescue Mission has been so successful that we are able to give food to other organizations," Eitzen said. These organizations include the DeTox drug and alcohol programs, Crossroads drug and rehabilitation programs, the Eureka Teen Center and the Senior Resources Center in McKinleyville.

Photo by Sandra Redmond

Bonnie Jo Ritte (left) and Charles Ray Galloway take showers and receive clean clothing at the Eureka Rescue Mission.

The Rescue Mission program begins with guests coming off the street and staying 10 nights per month. Men and women are not allowed to intermingle with each other in the mission. The women's building is directly behind the men's building, facing Third Street. Men's showers are open daily from 8:30 to 10:15 a.m., when men can receive clean clothing. Showers for women and children are open at the same time, but only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays because there are only two showers located in the women's building.

People may stay longer than 10 days if they work around the mission for a couple of hours per day. If they do not follow mission rules, they may be kept out for one to two weeks if deemed necessary.

The long-term program is a 12-step Christian program similar to Alcoholics Anonymous, with Bible classes in the morning. Participants must reside within the walls of the mission for three weeks before they will be allowed out. They go to Bible classes and are required to work for the good of the mission, for which they receive a weekly $7 gratuity for their service. At present, there are 14 men in the recovery program. According to Magill, it costs the mission about $7,000 per year to care for one individual.

The Eureka Rescue Mission is the only homeless shelter in Eureka. Most of the facilities for the homeless are geared toward recovery programs and food banks, but do not provide shelter for its guests. So if anyone needs to stay the night and take in a dinner at the mission, they must also participate in the religious services, whether it be by praying or singing hymns.

Dinner takes place in a fair-sized dining hall. Chairs are arranged in rows, much like pews in a church. Each night, a different minister comes to preach to the dinner crowd before the meal. People are allowed inside the mission at 6:30 p.m. The service starts promptly at 7 and is usually over by 8. The meal is then served.

If anything, the heavy emphasis placed on religion produces a problematic dichotomy. The people who need hope to live one day at a time receive it. Others just want the essentials (food, shelter, and clothing) without the preaching.

Justus Coulter and his friend Roger have been on the move for six years "off and on." And while thankful for the mission, they can do without the sermons.

"Sometimes it does get overbearing," Coulter admitted. "It feels like brainwashing, and you don't have a choice. But you gotta eat."

"The rooms are nice. The food is good," said Robert Fouts, who's originally from Tallahassee, Fla. "I'm grateful. How can you not be grateful? They are trying to spread the Lord, though some may not like it. The Lord is reaching us and some of us need him. I think the place uses hunger to sell religion."

Photo by Sandra Redmond

The 10-foot camper where Cheyenne, Kiano and Noah Carrington live has no sanitation facilities.

Pat Carrington, along with his two sons, Kiano and Noah, attend the service. His wife Lori stays behind to care for their daughters, Cheyenne and Shannon. Lori wouldn't want to eat anyway.

"I think it's ridiculous to be forced to listen to a sermon just to get something to eat," she said.

St. Vincent's Dining Room is quietly tucked away along Third Street, away from the tourists and those who are uncomfortable with the inhabitants. The guests may eat there at the designated time, free of sermon. The first thing people may notice as they walk through the single doorway is that the hall is clean. Every night, the dining hall is meticulously washed for the next day's dinner. The people waiting to eat are not interested in decor, however. Their bellies are empty. They wait patiently for 11 a.m. to roll around so that they can ease the pain.

Many of the donations come from Waremart, Safeway and Fluhrer's Big Loaf Bakery, which donates assorted breads and pastries. Anyone may eat the food, to a point. The federal government is the major financial backer. Unfortunately, there is no money in the budget for milk.

St. Vincent's Dining Hall is a subsidiary of the Catholic Church, but it does not receive funding from the church. Instead, it survives on a small staff, donations, volunteers and people providing community service.

Charles "Chuck" Kircher, director of the dining facility, has been working there for about a year and a half. Before that, he worked as head cook at College of the Redwoods.

"Most people who work here are volunteers," Kircher said. "They work approximately 90 hours a week, and they're happy to do it."

Help also comes by way of community service, but no help comes from the city of Eureka itself. The dining facility runs every day and gets most of its financial support from the St. Vincent De Paul Thrift Store in Eureka and the federal government, which can provide support because St. Vincent's does not endorse a specific religion. Other support comes from St. Bernard's Church, Sacred Heart and Temple Beth El.

Most who eat at the dining hall just want to eat by themselves in peace. They don't like when outsiders come and observe them while they eat. Therefore, many of the responses come back in pithy fashion.

"I feel comfortable here. I'm sitting here eating, ain't I?"

There are a few, though, who are willing to talk. They are a family. Rudy is the father, Angie is the mother and Leanna is their 1-year-old daughter. The family has been coming to the dining hall for about a week, although Rudy thinks it's been only three or four days. No one's really sure.

"We just come and go. A lot of stuff happened, so we kind of have to right now," Rudy explains.

Photo by Sandra Redmond

Aianna Pina, who is homeless, shares a moment with a stray cat.

As Rudy stops to talk, Leanna has felt neglected in getting fed and reminds her mom and dad that, yes, she is still at the table, and, is still hungry. Rudy feeds her some pork and beans.

Rudy and Angie have been looking for outside help in finding a job and a place to live.

"Went to the Humboldt Access Center," Angie sighs.

"We heard we could get a hotel room or housing," Rudy explains. "They turned us down because we had a car. Even though we were living in it."

The service has begun at the Eureka Rescue Mission. Pastor Edward M. Wisan is heading tonight's prayer service. Usually, most services last about an hour or so. But it's becoming clearer that "Pastor Eddie," as some of the Mission's periodic guests call him, is fast approaching the top of the hour with no signs of stopping. Everyone's getting restless.

One side of the dining/prayer hall has half of the congregation at rapt attention, drinking in the ideas the energetic pastor is espousing. The other half look like they want to storm by Pastor Eddie to the kitchen and grab some food. Some in the back have their hats pulled over their eyes, fast asleep.

It is now 8:10 p.m., and it is becoming clear that these people, who have most likely not eaten all day, will have to bear with a sermon. Finally, after an improbably hopeful and stirring rendition of "Amazing Grace," the chairs are stacked away, the meal is set out and Pastor Eddie greets a few people. Most just ignore him.

Already, the line is forming.