In Detroit. It rained all day. Sprinkles in fits throughout the evening.
The gang was all there. Medical, harm reduction, housing, us. Woo Hoo!
First, the Abandoned Man. Any day now he should be transported to a hospice, or something. I wonder why he’s still stuck in there.
The team stopped to help a crowd of sex workers and a few men who watch over them. As soon as the small swarm began to make its way toward our van, the other teams announced they were leaving. I tried to make sure everyone had food at least. The big deal of the day was clothing.
- Clothes
- Food
- Pepper spray
- Hygiene
Traci and I thought we were just pulling up around the corner, but the team drove nearly a mile down the boulevard. We met up with someone else standing outside. After a few minutes, one of the ladies from the last stop was peddling her tail off on her bike. She was riding straight towards me and Traci.
Traci yelled, “Look! It’s one of our girls from the last spot!”
Once she made it to the van, she panted, “Girls, I needed them clothes so bad!”
She told Traci she had been wearing that same sports bra and biker shorts forever. It was all she had. She was immensely grateful. She was not letting that opportunity slip away. Traci loved her up.
We pulled the caravan over to help another sex worker we saw standing on a corner. I jumped out to approach her first. I gave her a can of pepper spray, then invited her to come get herself something to eat. As we walked, I put my arm around her shoulder and asked her if she needed to see a doctor. She had a seizure recently, so I led her to the medical team. I introduced her, then told her I would be back with some food, clothes and a hygiene purse while she spoke with the other resources.
She was very unwell. She could barely talk. She kept stretching her jaws.
The next girl standing on a corner made her way along the caravan until she got to us.
“I need clothes. Do you have clothes?” She frantically shoved clothed into a tote bag while Traci tried to direct her. Traci told her that she had as much as she could carry. The woman stopped. She grabbed her bags. Then she ran back across the street again. She reminded me of a squirrel.
We found more people wandering between rainstorms. Traci did most of the social engineering last night. I’m getting dark. It’s that time of year. Labor Day weekend will make it 9 years since my son, Ambrose, was killed. We were at a strip mall and must have helped at least twenty people by the time we left. I fed a cat though. That cheered me up. I’m out of dog food. I’m going to hit up some pet stores and see if they have any damaged goods to pass along.
I don’t come out for me. I come out for people like the last lady we served. She’s a sex worker. She’s trying her best. She was relieved to see me and Traci. We’ve been helping her out for the past five years. Last night, she looked good. She looked healthy. She looked cute.
There is so much suffering in the world. I witness so much desperation. But we don’t just shrug our shoulders and bury our heads in a glowing rectangle. We reflect on our moral integrity. If someone should do something, maybe I am someone. What little thing can I do? And that’s how we save hundreds of people every month.
We do what we can and let God take of the rest. Because that’s how this mission has continued to operate every week for 5 years.
And that’s how we do it in Detroit.
Amen.
