The blessing of the bells. The church bells played out a beautiful song to sing beautiful prayers over us before we left to heal the streets. Our first stop was the one that cleaned us out in an hour last week. A lot of people got a lot of stuff. Which is wonderful, but we must make sure that everyone gets a chance to be blessed with brand new backpacks. Traci and I had to walk the line of being generous with boundaries. It is like that on the eastside, though. The desperation and mass poverty are so great that a spark of hope can be smothered quickly by too many people grabbing for it at once.
But I am the lamp on a table high above the city.
Traci and I saw a few good friends again in that spot. People we hadn’t seen since we stopped going to the eastside a few years ago after, “the incident”. Smiles. A lot of real smiles. A few new girls that we’re trying to slow down. I held back enough food and hygiene for a couple of more spots.
We hit an abandoned building. Things were precarious so we left without seeing anyone.
Back to the southwest side. Familiar stopping grounds.
I found my one-eyed Widow! We sprinted towards one another down the sidewalk. I thought she was dead. She’s been in jail for the past five months. She’s put on a lot of weight. She didn’t have anywhere else to go, so she’s back on the street with people she knows. The cops sliced up her tent and threw it away. I was glad I made sure there were backpacks left over for her, and her other friend who has been surviving out there for a long time. I gave them my last 2 cans of pepper spray.
We met several more people there and I was grateful to be able to give them good food and a well-stocked hygiene kit.
Our last stop was my Angel baby! I refilled her spirit box with Hope and Love because hers was running low again. It was another rough week. She chopped off all her hair in a manic fit. We hugged it out. Until next week. Stay alive one more week for me.
We saw the feral dog that’s been staying in the area for the last few weeks. Everyone sees him. People have been feeding and watching out for him, he just won’t come anywhere near anyone. He runs everywhere with a tail tucked between his legs. I tried. I even fed him a bowl of dog food I keep in the van for Ripley. Angel baby tried, volunteers tried, but nope.
But my highlight of the night was this- We were driving, and I told Traci that I missed my Wrestler. I hadn’t seen him in so long. I was praying that it was for a good reason. The very next spot, Traci yelled, “Kayla! Look who it is!”
God is hilarious. It was my Wrestler. I barely recognized him. He seems smaller every time I see him. I hadn’t seen him in at least several months, but he has a place in my heart. There is an intelligent spark behind those Irish eyes. He told me he was in rehab for a minute, but he got scared and left. I asked him if he remembered the first time we met. Of course he did. We were best friends immediately. I asked him if he remembered what he told me that first time we met. Because I never forgot it. So, I reminded him.
He told me that his greatest fear was that he would get used to being homeless. He was afraid that he would be out there too long, and he would forget that he had a bedroom with a lock on the door, pillows, bathrooms, kitchens with microwave ovens. He didn’t want to be someone who had been out there on the street so long that it was normal to live that way. He didn’t want to forget that he’s not supposed to be homeless.
“Do you remember that sweetie?” I asked. I kicked him right in his soul nards.
He did remember. He thanked me for reminding him. I gave him my one tent because the cops cut his tent up, too. He decided right then and there that the madness stops. We’re going to get him off the street. He wasn’t meant to live that way.
The last thing I said to him was what I imagined Jesus would have said to me. I told him, “I love you. Don’t forget who you are. I’ll be back again.”
Because that’s how we do it in Detroit.
Amen.
