“See that lady right there? That’s my Aunt Bobbie. She came to save me when I was a homeless runaway. She’s the reason I’m on this side of the van and not on the other side with you. She’ll give you something to eat. Go see her.”
That’s what everyone I met in Detroit got to hear tonight.
She stuck out the entire day with me. From making sandwiches, to packing clothes and hygiene kits at the church, outreach until 11:00, and back home again- she was a joyous gift. I got to show off the pretty church, have lunch at the infamous historical Tommy’s Bar, and peruse King Book Store with her as well.
Aunt Bobbie received the full gamut of street outreach tonight. Let me tell you-
Within the first mile from the church, she got to pull meals and hygiene kits out for me to pass through my window and to a homeless man with a sign as we waited for the light to change.
Our first stop was an old one. Our very first as Magdalene’s Mission 5 years ago, to be exact. It’s one of the neighborhoods with more condemned property than occupied. It doesn’t take long for a trickle of people to become a small swarm there. We’re not there as often anymore, so most of the people had never encountered us before.
I learned A LOT from the girls working that neighborhood. Pepper spray was enthusiastically appreciated. There are 3 or 4 serial rapists in the area. One lady told me that she actually reported the rape the second time it happened. I made sure every one of them had received medical attention and STI (sexually transmitted infection) testing afterwards.
Dudes were even talking about how they were sick of these deranged men attacking their friends and family, or anyone. One young woman called a cab and was raped by her cab driver.
I’m not trying to be depressing. It was just the overwhelming theme of the night from every single female we spoke with. I report what is really happening, not fairy tales. One of the girls pointed to a house nearby and told me it was a “safe house” for working girls. Then she rolled her eyes.
I met some fascinating people in that one spot. We were there for quite a while. The first girl we helped had changed into one of the nice new outfits she found in our totes. She looked wonderful. She looked genuinely happy. We’re seeing a different crowd of people who are loving all the sundresses, and skirts, and cute clothes. Smiles are as endless as the gratitude.
We helped a family. Well, a mother and son. He was grown, but very young. I gave her a pepper spray. She said it couldn’t have come at a better time. She was raped in her own home last week. Medical and police attention? Yes, yes. She did both of those things. Sweet lady. Her son was a very gentle, tall young man. He spoke very softly.
The sick old man who lives in the corner of an abandoned building is getting into housing. So, there’s good news.
We talked to the guy who lives under a bridge with 2 big dogs. I was able to give him a bag of dog food. He was kind and grateful. But then we sat there in the vehicle for a few minutes. The man kept talking to us, but the more he talked the less coherent he became. He was definitely a veteran. He was obviously a paranoid schizophrenic.
I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. She’s been through a ringer. She had a surprise for us when we saw her. She found an abandoned baby kitten behind a dumpster. She was her little buddy. The little kitten was probably the first bright spot she had in a long time. Of course, I can some cans of pate for her. We named her Catniss.
We hugged and talked for a while until it was time to move on to the next place.
We went to an abandoned building. This one, I haven’t been in, and I don’t feel the need to. It’s big, and we always get there after dark.
We passed food out the windows to a couple more people who were at the same traffic lights as we were.
We brought survival supplies to more people who lived behind another bridge in a perfectly hidden spot.
Our last stop of the night was sort-of ironic. The guy was walked around in an animated, but perturbed way. But he was holding a sign telling me I should smile. He ended up being a quite nice, super cool guy. His tentmate was a lot nicer than he looked as well. I guess you can’t judge a book by its grubby, tattered, cover.
In the context of street outreach, you must be willing to go down in the hole where people are living their rock bottom. You hold the flashlight up to the top. Show them where to find the ladder. Remind them they are loved. Hold on one more day. Then watch them climb up and shine in the light.
Because that’s how my Aunt Bobbie did it for me.
And that’s how we do it in Detroit.
Amen.
