Peace, Love & Hygiene Vol. 72

Tonight, was a whirlwind of desperation and compassion. Magdalene’s Mission and Stanley’s street medicine outreach team met up with Andy and his harm reduction supplies at a busy intersection on the southwest side of Detroit.

We were parked there for mere seconds before men and women came from everywhere towards the caravan. Food was the most valuable commodity tonight. Then came the Mag Bags, then blankets and clothes. Backpacks and duffel bags were filled one after another.

The teams always try to make sure everyone gets a what they need. When people come for food, we are always sure to ask if they would like any medical attention for any wounds, abscesses, breaks or infections. If we’re lucky, we catch a girl who is pregnant. Tonight, we were lucky, twice.

Something that is key to our caravan’s ability to access so many people is in our approach. For example, the pregnant girl I met this evening was desperate for food and clothing. She had none. I overheard her mumbling that she was pregnant, and I saw her stroke her swollen mama-belly. I told her that there was a medical team if she wanted it.  She looked down and replied that she had it taken care of. I subtly, and strategically went over to where the med team was standing, and I told brought them into the situation.

When I got back to the young lady, I let her know that I cared about her. I wanted her and her precious baby to be healthy and safe. Would she please let them talk to her. I would feel better if she was okay. That relaxed her a bit and she talked to a couple of nurses for a while. Now I know that someone is aware and watching. Our guardian angels are in a borrowed ambulance.

Andy is amazing. He is so humble that it makes you feel humble just to be near him. The way he fearlessly walks freely into any occupied shadow is like nothing you have ever seen. He searches out people others avoid by instinct. He peels them from the shadows because Andy makes the light safe. He makes it possible for suffering people to survive so they can figure a way out of the dark places. He does this in all his spare time because it is the right thing to do, and someone should. And he can. So, he does. Because he genuinely cares.

He’s not paid to care. Or forced to care, ordered, guilt tripped, required, etc. It’s just who he is, and it sure feels nice to a have a purpose. It sure feels nice to know he is out there.

I met new people and saw a few familiar faces, too.

Remember the first lady I gave a Jackpot purse to? I see her all the time. She’s a great-grandma and her great grand baby is doing wonderful! She said she is fat and healthy with gigantic kissable cheeks. I told her to give that baby an extra big kiss from her Auntie Kayla. She said she would. I love her.

There is a guy who wears a size 29 waist in men’s jeans. He is always so polite about trying to find clothes in his size even though we never have pants small enough for him.

The first two questions out of everyone’s mouth were either, “Do you have food?” or “Do you have coats?”

We could say yes to both. Because whatever they asked for first, the other was second.

People kept coming towards us, but we still had time to talk to some people as well. Stan mentioned that we should find another van to fill and drive around with us.

I know I’m always repeating how kind, grateful, and sweet people I meet are. The most heartbreaking point of the evening was at the very end. A scrawny little woman with her hair in a ponytail was walking across the parking lot. She was a bit of a ways away. As soon as she saw the caravan, she came running up to the back of the van.

“Do you have any food? Please say you have some food. I’m so hungry.” She pleaded with me.

We had only been there less than an hour and I had just given away the last of the forty-four meals I prepared for that night. When I told her I had no food left, she cried.

“I’m so hungry! I’m just so hungry! It isn’t fair!”

Most homeless people weren’t born on the streets. They were born in hospitals. They grew up with families inside of houses just like you and me. They have mom, dad’s, siblings, and grandparents just like you and me. Tragedy, hardship, addiction, death, they happen to a lot of families, just like you and me. In some cases, they make it through. It some cases, for a plethora of reasons, people don’t. If the right circumstance comes along, they can beat it. If doesn’t, or maybe another bad circumstance happens, then they won’t.

I have a plant. I bought him off from the clearance rack at the grocery store. I named him Nick Cave. I put him in a sunny spot. I watered him. He was about 6 inches tall. He was alright. Until he wasn’t. He just kept getting a little weaker and a little weaker. He wasn’t dead, but he was obviously just surviving. Traci told me he needed a new pot. I kept being distracted. I mean, he wasn’t dead or anything. Until finally, Traci gave him a new big, huge pot. That motivated me to buy a big bag of soil. I repotted Nick Cave. He grew to almost two feet tall in a matter of days. Traci informed me that he was meant to grow several feet tall, but he could never become what he was meant to in that unhealthy place. He needed to be in the right place with better soil.

And that’s the meaning behind Tuesday night outreach.

Because that’s how we do it in Detroit. Amen.