Warmth for body and soul

‘Every day I come here is a good day,’ is a comment that pleases Åse Berg Grønvik, who is in charge of the facility. For around 30 years, ‘Stua’ has been a welcome place for those struggling with addictions, mental health problems or other challenges, and is filled with people who want social fellowship. 

Every weekday between half past eight in the morning and three in the afternoon, breakfast, dinner and pleasant fellowship are on offer. A symbolic sum is paid for the dinner, but food donations from the shops in the area and other contributors are greatly appreciated.

The latest delivery came from three Norwegian coastal liners, which are not able to sail because of the COVID-19 pandemic. ‘So now,’ explains Åse, ‘we have plenty of crispbreads, biscuits and miscellaneous dry goods.’ 

At the centre, people can drop by to get a lunch bag, or some dry goods that are left out in large baskets, for free. Åse sees that Varmestua means a lot to the local community and to the individuals who might come by. 

‘Varmestua means everything to me,’ some say, or ‘The warm room is like a second home.’ There are many who have received help there. For some, this is the only social gathering place they have.

‘We did it like this because we saw that there were some who were having a very hard time,’ explains Åse. ‘They burst into tears when they lost this opportunity.’

Suddenly, Åse noticed that many new people were making contact. Several of them were furloughed or had lost their jobs. For the first time in their lives, many needed to ask for food. Åse and her team decided that, if people couldn’t come to Varmestua, then Varmestua would go to the people!

‘We drove out dinner three days a week to more than 3,000 people,’ she explains. ‘Some of our regular visitors came and picked up dinner and went home and ate. Home nursing staff also came and fetched food for patients. They still come and fetch food for some even since we were able to reopen.’

When the ordinary operation was closed, Åse had trained a team of employees who were ready to take over if anyone should be infected and everyone who worked at Varmestua then had to be quarantined.

Christmas celebrations

Now, however, the facility is fully functioning again, although with appropriate safety measures in place.

‘We have removed some seats so that we keep our distance from each other,’ explains Åse, ‘and we eat in turns if needed.’ She has seen that people struggled when they realised they were going to have to live with restrictions for a long time. Especially before Christmas, she admits, people were uneasy.

Several of the regular guests tend to celebrate Christmas at Varmestua but, because of the space, the normal centre was too small to hold Christmas celebrations safely.

Even finding a larger venue for Christmas didn’t completely solve the problem. Åse explains: ‘The fact that people were uncertain about where the Christmas celebration would take place, and whether it was a celebration at all, made people uneasy. Fortunately, this was arranged so that we had a dignified Christmas celebration.’ 

‘We could not have run Varmestua in the way we do today without volunteers or helpers,’ says Åse. ‘Not everyone signs a contract, but they come by and help with things such as peeling potatoes.’ 

She enjoys the variety that her role provides. ‘When I get tired of sitting in the office, I can go down and play some cards. Maybe someone sits down at the piano, and then we sing a little. Some of those who come are talented musicians. There are many nice people here who have plenty of knowledge about a lot of things.’ 

Varmestua offers all sorts of services, including a singalong, which is held alternately at Varmestua and at the nearby Salvation Army corps (church). For many, this is a time of the week when they can choose well-known and beloved favourite songs. Paint Nights is a programme for women who feel challenges in everyday life. There is also Street Football twice a week, which some of Varmestua’s users participate in. Trips to Vesleheimen, which is the former summer residence of a Salvation Army orphanage, are also a welcome distraction.

Varmestua is a warm place to be, but Åse sees that many also need a ‘place to do’. 

‘If society had had an offer in the form of activities or jobs for some of those who struggle in society,’ she says, ‘then we might have fewer people who visit us and similar places.’ 

She is pleased that The Salvation Army in Ålesund is now offering a programme called Stedet – literally ‘The Place’. Initially, activities such as carpentry and sewing are being offered twice a week, providing opportunities for people to join together and learn a useful skill. The street football team is now housed in the same building. 

‘We think it is important that people have activities,’ says Åse. ‘There is a lot of passivity among our people, and we hope that many get their minds off drugs or other problems when they are at Stedet. The offer is of course voluntary, but we hope that some of our users want to join. As well as that, there may be some who do not go to Varmestua who may want to use this new facility.’ 

The importance of being seen

Marie Eriksen is one of the volunteers who make the wheels turn. She volunteered this spring when she saw that Varmestua was closed and that food was instead delivered to those who needed it. 

‘Since then I have stayed here,’ she says, admitting: ‘I have grown attached to Varmestua!’ 

Marie participates in most things that happen at the facility. She cooks, washes, picks up goods and has excellent contact with service users. Conversations often begin during the breakfast preparations where people drop by. If there are quiet moments, she likes to sit down in the living room with some knitting. 

‘There's a lot of laughter here,’ she adds. ‘We have a lot of fun!’ 

When Varmestua reopened after being closed due to the coronavirus, Marie saw a lot of desperation among those who normally came to the centre. 

‘People had been alone a lot,’ she says. ‘Some had mixed different drugs, many had gone into a depression.’ 

For many, loneliness is the heaviest burden to bear. 

She is afraid of what might happen if Varmestua has to close again. ‘It means so much to many to come here and have a meal and someone to talk to,’ she says. ‘There are such nice people coming here. Many people struggle quite a lot, but still give so much of themselves.’ 

As a volunteer, Marie gives of herself but also receives much in return. 

‘To see someone who is struggling a lot gradually open up and begin to find his way back to himself – it is just as big every time. Those who struggle with intoxication have an illness. It’s not just something you can put down. 

‘At times, I see that things go very badly with some. When I no longer see the personality of a human being, it is the disease that has taken over. This happens especially in periods when people have been alone a lot. But then suddenly it turns around.’ 

Whatever a person’s background or struggles, it is important to be seen, says Marie, explaining: ‘There is one who is very shy. I’m starting to talk to him. Every time I smile at him now, he opens his eyes and smiles with his whole face. It’s so great to see!’ 

Sociologist Kristine Hurlen is both an environmental worker at ‘Stua’ and seeks out people where they are. She helps with tasks such as filling out applications, submitting complaints, accompanying a person to the doctor, or making sure that everyone gets the rights they are entitled to. Unfortunately, she sees that some end up ‘between two chairs’ when it comes to receiving state assistance.

‘If you are thrown from one offer to another,’ she says, ‘you may not have enough resources to follow up the rejections. For example, I might help someone who has been denied both psychiatry and drug treatment. One programme argues there is too much intoxication in the picture to be able to offer psychiatric treatment, while the other believes there are too many mental challenges to be able to offer addiction treatment. Then I have to get in touch with the right people and try to help.’

She sees that people who end up being bounced between different departments and services can lose confidence in those who will help them.

‘Through Varmestua we are in a unique position to help,’ says Kristine. ‘We see many of the users every day. Over time, a relationship is built that makes people have a completely different trust in us than they have in the rest of the support system. We see the whole in the problem, and people are more open when we come up with proposals for changes because they trust us.’

Both the service users and the support staff appreciate that she joins meetings. The people who ask for help relax more because they know that Kristine notes and understands everything that is said and follows up.

Kristine sees this as being a great use of the relationships made at Varmestua. ‘In addition to Varmestua being a good place to be,’ she says, ‘we want to be able to use the environment to motivate people so they want to set new goals. It could be becoming drug-free, getting a job or becoming more active. Then we have to follow them a bit on the road and show we are there.’

She adds: ‘It seems that the system is becoming more and more complicated. Many feel a greater distance from help. The offices are larger, you do not necessarily know your own caseworker.

‘It is a difficult starting point when you want to begin a positive process. The first step to change is difficult to take. The first phone call to the creditor; filling out the important application; getting the papers you need.’

And sometimes the system itself has failings, with people slipping between the cracks if they move address, for instance. This is where the long-term relationships through Varmestua pay off. ‘We have built up a very good collaboration with many caseworkers,’ says Kristine. ‘The job becomes easier as time goes on, the path to help becomes shorter.’

The Varmestua way

It’s very clear that the COVID-19 pandemic means that even more people than usual are struggling with their lives. Varmestua has engaged in a lot of outreach work to address this. When the facility was closed, staff met people in an office, at home, or the meeting was held while they went for a walk.

Kristine says that, because many agencies and offices have been closed, ‘there has been an even greater need for our services, including tasks that we did not need to help people with before, such as printing application documents. There are also several people who make contact – first and foremost for food and talk. There are many who barely managed on their own, but then the pandemic became the drop that made the cup overflow.’

It is often in a confidential conversation in the corner of the sofa, through laughter and small talk around the dining table, or during relaxing games, that the change in the individual starts. This is the Varmestua way – when you start to feel safe and included, you become open to receive more help.

‘For me,’ says Kristine, ‘it means a lot to see that you can mean something to others. If you hear that you have saved the day for someone, it gives you enormous strength to continue. I meet so many nice people every day, both colleagues and those we help. When a person shares his innermost thoughts with me … I am honoured to be shown that trust.

‘It is so fantastic to see that Varmestua can make a difference and contribute to positive growth in a person's life. It is an honour to be a part of it!’