Tonight’s theme was finding light in the shadows. I came out with another new volunteer this week. My friend Sally came out with me tonight, I should have taken pictures, but you know me. I’m too busy living in the moment. She was a formidable co-pilot. We laughed a lot all night long, and we also spent time reflecting deeply on the impressions that coming alongside the homeless had upon us.
There was no Andy with us on this adventure. Stan had two volunteers, and I had my one. Five people was all it took to make a difference tonight. It was very cold. The longer we were out there, the colder it got. I made bean and ham soup with a ham that Ann donated to me. I must confess, I had a bowl for lunch and it was magically delicious. I was excited to serve it to my friends tonight.
Our first stop tonight was at a hotel. The medical team had a pregnant woman they were meeting there. It was a pretty dumpy motel for the number of expensive cars we saw in the parking lot. There were a few junkers, too. But then we saw the junker car follow the shiny Cadillac out of the parking lot. Sally and I just laughed. We saw a couple of women walking from their rooms to cars and back. If they were sex workers, they were at least safer doing it there then they would be walking around and getting assaulted. A tall man with long dreadlocks walked all around the hotel, upstairs and down. Finally, a tiny blond girl came wriggling downstairs.
When we brought her the food she was very thankful. She said she remembered me from a while ago, but the person she had met me with was dead now. She was glad to get to see us again. I wished well for her and her baby.
Stan and his team had recently met a new group of people who lived in an old abandoned building. First, we met with the older gentleman who lived on the front steps. He would only take what he didn’t already have, and he didn’t have warm food. Check. We had to drive around to the back to sneak in through a back door that was unlocked. All I could see was as far as Stan and Mary’s headlamps would reach. The paint was peeled from the walls and the ceiling so it looked like scales on a massive arctic serpent. The air was somehow colder inside the building than it was outside. I imagined the cement blocks trapping the cold like bricks of ice. It felt like walking through a giant two-story igloo. There were ropes hanging from the ceiling with empty half-gallon milk containers tied to the ends of them. My best guess for that is, maybe it helps people find their way in the dark? I could see the occasional remnant of another outreach group. Small, plastic bags, and white, paper bags would lie outside the occasional doorway. If they were there, no one would come out to see us.
Part of me wanted to stay and explore the entire building,. There were remnants of the buildings original purpose everywhere. I wondered about the thousands of people who had walked these same hallways. Did they ever imagine it would look the way it does now? It was pitch black inside the big, brick igloo. If it weren’t for the other teams headlamps, I would have never found my way out again.
I was excited to bring Sally to meet some of my friends who live in another burned down building. Technically in the basement, because the above ground part is gone. One of the men we talked to was nearly free of addiction. He dreams of buying the house next door for $10,000, and then using it as an outreach center for homeless persons. His first idea was to make a warming center. His eyes were bright with dreams, and how close he was to achieving them.
There were only a few people there. One of them was Marilyn Monroe’s new boyfriend. He is very frustrated with her. He can’t get her to engage with wanting to recover, or even barely live.
“It’s like, I can’t get her to want to do anything. She hopeless.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. We were fighting. She won’t come get anything. Can I bring her some of your food? I know I can get her to eat the cookies, at least.”
I pray that I get to see her again. I just want to hold her until she believes she can be loved. She lost Writer Dude. He’s dead. She lost her baby. She never got to bring him home from the hospital. She doesn’t have a home. She loses her battle with addiction every day. The last time I saw her, she looked hollowed out. I hugged her and she just crumbled into a thousand pieces in my hands and wept. She cried until she was dry, then walked slowly away and faded like a ghost. I pray that God is holding her close until I can get back to her again. I know it’s considered taboo for the volunteers to go into the dope houses, or dens. But I might bust a door down to get to her. I just found her again. I’m going to pack her the biggest love bomb I can carry to her next week.
We went back to the spot where the guy built a camp for all his friends. It’s hidden so well. He is very proud of himself. It’s a miracle, considering that he can’t even stand all the way upright, and even if he did, he’s still shorter than I am. He told me that his sister had died four days ago. His nephew was having a very difficult time processing, or handling, his grief. He told me that the kid had lost both sets of grandparents in the same year, and now his mother. He didn’t want him to fall off the great track he had been on. He was trying to be a good uncle for his nephew.
It got me thinking about how when your homeless, being homeless might not be your only problem, or even the worst of your problems. It’s just the environment that you have to work from. We talked about how close we could be to destitution, ourselves. We both consider ourselves living in stable environments, but only to a very limited degree. We’re one tragedy away. We’re only one or two good friends away from falling over the edge. That’s the only difference between being on the receiving, or the giving side of the van.
Once you start to talk to people and hear their stories, you realize how alike you are and how much you have in common. It is an intense feeling of vulnerability. Next, you feel a secure appreciation for every time you are tired, and there is a clean, warm, safe place to sleep. And if we are hungry, we just walk into a room filled with all the food we like to eat and ways to cook it. Using the bathroom is not a whole process.
We visited the Hobbit’s They weren’t home but I did leave another bag of charcoal and some cans of soup, along with some other basics beside their camp.
I got to see my Handsome Brothers. Unfortunately, because it is so wicked cold out, we didn’t have long to talk. There was another young man who came timidly up to the van after my Brothers did. He was somewhat larger of a guy. I could tell by the look on his face that he was used to being passed over because of his size. I think he was assuming we would ignore him, but was wishing super hard that we wouldn’t. We gave him some food. I noticed he didn’t have a jacket on. He told me it was okay because I wouldn’t have anything in his size. But I did! I very, very rarely see larger size men. But this week, I found a jacket that was one of the nicer ones I had ever seen- in a practical sense. It wasn’t thick as down, but it was insulated in a heavy duty way, so I brought it, and it was a 3XL.It wasn’t going to be baggy on him, but it was warm and it fit. I was able to give him a duffel bag with a few extra survival items, such as handwarmers and a blanket. He was a real sweetie. Thanked us graciously, and then scuttled back across the street.
We drove to a few new places tonight, and a few familiar ones. I saw a lot of creative camps. I love tracking through the backs of vacant lots and abandoned buildings. I am fearless in the shadows. That is where I very often find the people who are hiding the lights inside themselves.
Because that’s how we do it in Detroit. Amen
#peaceloveandhygiene #magdalenesmission
