This was the night of My Angel. I saw a lot of people tonight. I saw many friends, many beloved, many warriors tonight. None of them compared to my grand finale though, The Angel.
You may have noticed that I haven’t had a report for the last couple of weeks. Traci and I knew we had time to make up for this week. We packed 65 meals this week of peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Tons of all the rest.
We bought extra water and ice to keep it cold because we knew it would be scalding outside today.
The first person we helped was an old man that we saw being dragged into the weeds behind a bus stop. The medical team checked in on him. Traci brought him a meal. There was a woman waiting at the bus stop who asked if she could speak with the medical team for a moment. She also asked if she could please have something to eat. We weren’t even a mile away yet.
The first stop was the burned down house. Some of the people who I had seen at the factory were now staying down there. I gave them some food for the cats they keep. At least eight people were fed at that spot. One of the people who stayed there had a huge necrosis wound.
My Girl I Defended was there. She boasted how she thought she could look clean enough to get a job. With a little soap and water, and a hairbrush, she could pass for a decent person. Absolutely.
The next stop we went to was the abandon factory. This time, instead of parking on the street, we parked at the end of the alley off the main street. For the first time, I saw a row of tents in the small thatch of land between the building and a steep hill down to the highway. I saw my Widow! She was filthy. Everyone was filthy. I made the wipes packs extra thick this week. We probably helped another eight or ten people there, too.
We flew across town before sunset to see my brothers. Oh! When I saw the little brother, he picked me up with one arm and swung me around in a circle. We really missed each other a lot. They are getting ready to move into their new place soon! They are on the list and Kyle is putting the rungs onto the ladder. He has been helping so many people get off the street and into actual safe homes.
As the little brother and I were talking, I noticed a smear of blood on his ribs. He had a wound on the inside of his arm, and the blood had dried on his bony ribs. I pulled out a baby wipe from his Mag Bag. I gently cleaned the blood stains from his side. The clean spot revealed more dirty spots. I ended up wiping off his arms and neck as he talked to Kyle about his next steps in the process.
I thought about the ladies who lived thousands of years ago. Wiping someone’s feet was thought to be so sacred of an act. I thought about how maybe they felt like I did in that moment. Perhaps they wanted to give someone else that genuine feeling of being sacred.
We travelled on through the steamy streets. Scooter gangs did wheelies in unison up and down Michigan Avenue. I heard music coming from everywhere.
Our last stop of the night was a doozy. We see a lot of people when we sit in this parking lot. As usually happens, people start coming out of every shadow, and the next thing you know, we were swarmed. It started off with these first two ladies. Both were sex workers we recognized. I grabbed them each a Mag Bag as they were going through the totes of clothes. When I got closer to one of the women, I noticed that her jaw was swollen with a green and yellow bruise across her cheek and jawbone. She looked defeated, and ragged. I asked her about her face. She said she was attacked. I asked her if she had gotten any medical attention for it yet. She told me it was no big deal. She could handle it.
I put my hand on her shoulder and I told her, “Sweetheart, I can’t have you like this. Will you see a doctor for me? I have one right over there. I won’t be able to stop worrying about you unless you let the doctor see you.”
For me, she would… in just a minute.
I got the medical team, and they approached her gently and treated her face and some other broken pieces.
Next week that I go out, I am DEFINITELY bringing more pepper spray. There is a direct correlation to the uptick in violent attacks against women and me providing pepper spray or mace. That last fundraiser we had over Mother’s Day weekend will help make sure of that.
But the BEST best best part of the evening happened there as well. My Angel. I don’t see her very often, but whenever I do it is a treat. She moves around a lot from neighborhood to neighborhood, so she is not easy to keep track of. But most recently, since the last time I saw her… drum roll please…
She earned her bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and psychology. She was close to graduating when she moved out here. She got it figured out and got her last couple of credits done. Now she has her degree, but she is also homeless surrounded by dope fiends and crazy people. She described some of her attacks to me. She’s been abducted. She’s never been able to be a sex worker. I notice she hides her femininity as a defense. She plays up her stick figure under baggy t-shirts and short hair under a vintage skater ballcap.
I got her to talk to Kyle. She was afraid to before, but with a nudge from me, she decided to trust him. She explained her situation. She has my card. Her cell phone battery was dead. As soon as she can get it charged up, she is supposed to call me. I’ll give Kyle her number then her transition into housing would happen immediately. She has been struggling so long. The insanity of this world is her epicenter.
But…
My old writing teacher once told me that the word ‘but’ means that everything you just said in the sentence before the word ‘but’ isn’t necessarily true.
It doesn’t have to stay that way. I tell them all, “I always dreamed that one day I would be on this side of the van. I’ve stood where you are. Never give up on yourself. I won’t.”
For some reason, Reverend Kayla had to spit out, “Even when you don’t believe in God, God still believes in you.”
Therefore, I believe in my little Angel. I believe in miracles. I believe in the power of human will. I believe that humans are a fantastic and limitless species. I believe in potential.
Because that’s how we do it in Detroit.
Amen.
