This report is about the 2 people Traci and I served yesterday. With all due respect to their privacy, I’m still not going to sugar-coat it. This is who we serve:
They are an adorable married couple who have been together for nearly two decades. They came here from another state to be near their family. After a series of unfortunate events, they were left with nothing but the streets. Like my girl said, “The real gate-way drug is the trauma that happens to make you think you need that stuff.”
Or, as her husband put it, “Heroin was bad, but we quit that. After the relapse, now there’s this fentanyl crap in everything and you’ll die before you get it out of your system.”
When they got together, they built a successful family, and a pretty little all-American life. The house, the cars, the kids, all of it is gone now.
The first thing she wanted me to see was how well her face had healed. The last time I had contact with her husband, he called me in the middle of the night. He told me that his wife was ‘working’. She was attacked with a knife. The man told her he was going to kill her and throw away her body. She cleverly escaped the trunk of his car (somehow, thank you, Jesus) and made it back to him. “What do we do, Kayla? I can’t take her to the hospital!”
The stitches scars on her face reminded me of a rag doll. She is right. It did heal nicely. One can hardly see it.
They live in an abandoned property on the eastside of Detroit. They said that the neighbors have left them alone for over a year now. They keep the property clean, and don’t allow drug use in their den. He’s found a way to access electricity, and they bring water back in five-gallon buckets for drinking and cleaning.
It was a beautiful day. Every once in a while she would move herself backwards into the van. “I’m trying to not let them see me.” She said, “That guy is weird.”
The husband blocks her from view.
“Those are just customers. We don’t need to deal with them right now.”
We talked about all the people we knew from that area that we hadn’t seen in a couple of years. The list of names of people who have died was extensive. Just about everyone we knew from that house on the eastside we used to see every week is gone. Not all though. A few still survive.
I assumed overdoses, but the Wife claims it is the resurgence of AIDS. Too many girls aren’t using protection. The diseases spread like a wildfire.
Traci and I loaded them up with supplies. Shortly after I left, the husband thanked me for the feeling of clean socks. We got them plugged in with some people who can help them get their lives back again. They don’t give up on eachother. We won’t give up on them. They knew that finding that mangled up business card was going to turn their luck around. Here’s to hoping, my friends.
Because that’s how we do it in Detroit.
Amen.
Post-script: The Fort St. Church volunteers are nothing short of heroes behind the scenes.
Also, the basement we are in is also THE FIRST INDOOR BASKETBALL COURT IN THE UNITED STATES! Every week, I found out something historically amazing about this place! Beauty in every cobblestone. I choose to see it.
Last night was good. Dark, weird, and somewhat off at times. It was also healing, rewarding, valuable time spent with valuable people. Life, God, Nature, is complex like that.
Instead of heading to our usual area, the ambulance led us across Detroit to a dark side of town where we had not been to for years. There were Christmas lights on some of the houses. Then we got to a part of the street that was just rows of brick projects that went on and on for what felt like miles. The saddest part was that a good portion of them were boarded up. Condemned Government Assisted Housing.
We drove in front of a row of buildings then parked across the street from it. Then we drove slowly behind the buildings down a very creepy, dark alley. A black cat ran from under one fence to over another fence a little ways ahead of us. Good luck to have a black cat cross our path. While we sat waiting at the end of the alley, I could hear a dog bark in the distance. A few minutes later, the ambulance pulled slowly away and the Comella’s van followed closely behind.
We returned to our more familiar parts of town. Crazy Miss P was standing outside yelling at a man in a big red truck. The gang had taken care of her when they were out earlier in the day. The first friends we helped were walking alone outside. Eventually, we found a well-lit place to park next to a parking lot. We try to be out of the way of businesses, but accessible enough for people who need us to get to us. Ideally, out of the way of traffic.
As the medical team began immediately tending to an elderly crippled man, a woman popped out of the back of the parking lot like a stray cat. Traci was already getting food out for the man in the ambulance from the back of the van. She opened the curb side passenger door on her way to the back. I was pinned on my side, because traffic was flying by my door. So, I couldn’t get out yet. The lady rushed up to the open door where the clothes were, and starting helping herself to random open bags.
Traci yelled out, “Wait! Let me come over there to help you first!”
“But I just want some clothes!” The woman hollered back angrily.
“You have to let me help you through them! It’s too much. Hold on. I’ll be right there.” Traci explained.
But the woman was incensed by this point. She threw the clothes she had back into the van, and screamed, “Why is everyone always yelling at me? You are so mean! I don’t want your stupid stuff! You’re mean and you yell at people!”
She stormed off across the parking lot and there was nothing Traci could say to get her back. A few moments later, a couple of more women appeared from the same shadow that covered the back corner of the parking lot. One by one they came to us. One by one, we fed them. We clothed them. We gave them tools to keep clean and a blanket of warmth and another of prayers before we sent them to the medical team.
Traci would tell some of the ladies, “If some woman tells you that we yell at people it’s not true. And please tell her I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I just have to manage all of these donations, and I wanted to make sure she got the right stuff.”
Eventually, we saw her ponytail come bobbing across the parking lot and up to the van. She apologized to Traci. She said she was having a really bad day. Bad stuff kept happening to her and she needed the doctor. They talked it out, and we were able to convince her to get medical attention. In the end, it was a really positive healthy interaction on many levels. They hugged it out and healed the wound.
Speaking of wounds…
I have a sore spot in Detroit.
Remember my Marilyn Monroe? I haven’t spoken of her in a long time. Well, she was saved… nearly for good. It was a while ago. After our beloved Writer Dude died, another guy came along. Apparently, he was the guy Writer Dude stole her from.
After Writer died, she was a shell. I rarely saw her. Then I found out she was pregnant! It seemed to renew a spark of hope in her. Life and color started to return. Of course, she couldn’t have custody of her son. He was in foster care with a family member. Then I didn’t see her for a while, just the new boyfriend. He seemed shady. He would ask for extras stuff for her, but yet, according to everyone else, no one had seen her in a long time.
Then one day, we started going to this little apartment. She was there! With him. Something was better, but still off. I found out from the medical team that they had gotten her off the street. She was sober, had an apartment all her own, and was in the process of getting custody of her son. She was even working a regular job!
The HE found her. He found her and now she’s back with him living in a worse case scenario. He’s obsessed with her.
There’s rumors that he was the one who killed my friend Kyle because of his jealousy of her.
I HATE going there. They even have a dog. I won’t even get out to see the dog. I hear he’s cute. Traci gives him two meals. She does this as a favor to her and me. We never see her come out. I don’t think she’s allowed to see me. I don’t know. It’s the most depressing house. I stayed in the vehicle the entire time. That ended up making me the smartest person because every person who got out had dog poop on their shoes. Our team leader made a declaration not to go back there again. They are no longer as resource challenged as our other friends who are actually challenged for shelter, as well.
Moments like those are hard to swallow. The lines between what I can and what I shouldn’t do are hard to see sometimes. But I know this: A nice person does nice things for people so they will be liked. A good person helps people because it’s the right thing to do but can still maintain their boundaries.
Our last stop was a busy one. It was the perfect place for Traci and me to empty out the van. My beloved Ms. GG’s. The men who come out of that old rickety house are some of the most humble and polite men you will ever meet. Most of them are senior citizen age, like Ms. GG. A few of them are a little younger. They were so happy to see us! Everyone got warm clean clothes. One of the ladies we dressed before was proud to show off her outfit she still had from last week. It was a fuzzy pajama set. Traci said she just giggled and squealed at the idea of wearing such nice matching pajamas. It’s the little things, right?
I am definitely going to Detroit next Tuesday on Christmas Eve. We’ll be out early in the day. I’m going to make a warm homemade Christmas dinner. I can’t think of a better gift to Jesus than to show through my deeds that I indeed apply his philosophy of unconditional love to world. Feel free to text me if the giving spirit is upon you.
When the weakest among us were hungry, we fed them.
When the deprived were sick, we healed them.
When the destitute were freezing, we gave them blankets and coats.
When Magdalene’s Mission shows up, so does God, and the real love you give every week.
Last night’s outreach was dedicated to my recently departed ex, Cecil Johnson. He had been living in a homeless shelter in Indiana for the past couple of years. No one I knew was aware of that. He had severe liver damage, and that is what he finally succumbed to. My dear friend of decades, Julie Miller, who runs the Lansing branch of Punks With Lunch, knew Cecil in his glory days as well. She said that she hoped someone like us was out there to give him a sandwich from time to time. Cecil’s addiction destroyed our relationship. It eventually destroyed him too, but he was still a human being.
Now you are connected to this, as well.
The theme for last night’s street outreach was- Plot Twists!
My brakes and rotors are still waiting to be repaired. Still no vehicle for outreach. I was dealing with work and Cecil’s death at the same time all weekend and didn’t line up an alternative vehicle. I thought all was lost. Traci and Lilli insisted we could pull it off in Traci’s little matchbox car. She drives a Chevy Spark for goodness sake. Also, Lilli works at Little Caesars in Brighton now, and she found a way to donate 40 pizzas. I can’t let it go to waste. Allyn dropped off amazing coats and hats and gloves (and cookies!). And Alicia sent me a package of gloves everyone desperately needs. It’s going to stay below freezing for a few days. I couldn’t bear to hear the list of people we would lose to exposure by the next time I came back to Detroit. So, we made it happen.
Lilli is amazing. She made all those pizzas. She packed up the car with everything somehow. Another example of loaves and fishes. I don’t know how she did it! She impresses me.
We made it down there packed with what we could fit.
The first stop was a huge old, abandoned factory by the train yard. I climbed through there a couple of times with Cecelia. This time, it was dark. We needed flashlights to find our way through. We found forts and tents in various corners. I climbed up wooden ladders, pallets, and over large holes to get to an opening on the roof. I love climbing. I love climbing on tops of buildings. We were able to leave some food and blankets for the people who were too shy to come out and see us. It’s a very private group who stay in there. They abhor the attention.
Next stop, Ms. GG’s abando-minium. There are a lot of people in that one house. One of them is a lady, Ms. GG’s age. She told me that the next day, today, she will get her apartment! She was so thrilled and proud to have her own door and key. You can do anything for yourself if you have a door and a key.
There was a man there who was very tall and slender; gratefully accepting socks, gloves, a hat and food. As he was going through the coats there was a red puffy jacket. It was super warm. It was a 2XL so it fit him all the way down his arms and covered his bum. The other folks around him cheered and congratulated him on such a clever find.
It was a motley crew of people rummaging joyfully through what little we had. I hope Cecil had a warm coat to wear. One old lady who we helped had a large bag of clothes, blankets, food, etc., that she was having a hard time carrying. She yelled at a young man riding by on his bike.
“Get off that bike, boy! Come help an old woman carry some stuff!”
And he did. He jumped off his bike and took her garbage bag into the house for her. Before she left, that same old, black, toothless, bald woman told me, “I love you girl! Gimme some dap!”
“You want what?” I replied.
Then she held her fist out to me, like a fist bump. “Gimme some dap, girl!”
“Ah!” I said. “You want bones!” Then I held up my fist and we had our fist bump moment and laughed.
We went down a few more alleys looking to see if we could find anyone we knew. All we found was a gray and white kitten. We got to at least feed her.
Then we saw our Crazy P. I swear she might not even be 4 feet tall, but you could hear her holler! I couldn’t understand a single word of it, but she was mad about something. One guy from the medical team and I know her best. We kept trying to get her to calm down, take food, take a few bucks, anything. But she just kept hollering and screaming incoherently. So, I prayed for her at least 10 times.
A man who must have been almost seven feet tall was walking down the street with his little white pit pull puppy. He had a long, puffy, white coat, and long, black, neatly dreaded hair.
I asked him if I could pet his cute puppy. The guy was super sweet and friendly. He let me try to pet her. She feared everyone and everything. What an ironic pair!
Our last stop of the night was to see my Little Red-Haired Girl. She was busy working, as always. We were able to give her the last of our food, some gloves and handwarmers. Most importantly, we shared unconditional love with her. She had a beautiful smile for us in return.
I couldn’t save Cecil. I can’t save anyone. When Cecil and I were good together, it was some of the most magical in love times of my life. I know it was for him, too. We gave each other warm memories. The bad was really bad. I don’t have nightmares anymore, just wise experiences. Remember my Writer Dude? He died of the exact same thing in the exact same way as Cecil did.
I just wanted Cecil, and everyone else I see and try to help on Tuesday night to know- I even if I can’t fix what’s wrong, in the moments we have together, you are truly and genuinely loved. That’s what I can give.
“The fort on Fort Street” I left my notes in Detroit last night. Here is everything I remember. First, our new HQ is wonderful. Traci and I spent the afternoon there sorting, repacking, and re-piling clothes and blankets, etc. We met our first new volunteers already. The volunteer crew from Fort St. Church has been without a community service project for a few years. Three men and a woman came down to the gym to see what Mag’s Miss had going on. They can’t wait to get in there and start sorting! Woo Hoo! Fresh men’s clothing is going to start coming in, pre-packed and sorted, regularly. Traci and I spent a few hours getting ready for last nights outreach. When we were done, we had enough time for some local and authentic Mexican cuisine. We were on top of the world by the time the medical team was ready to roll out.
We haven’t been on the street in over a month. Would anyone remember us?
Our first stop was to see one of our first girls who we hadn’t seen in a couple of years. Traci and I would bring her up and remember how she used to make us laugh. Fortunately, she is still alive and kicking. She’s still with the same abusive boyfriend. She looked emaciated even for a tiny woman. When Traci saw her, she asked, “Hey Girl! Remember me?”
The dear girl broke down and wept on Traci’s shoulders. She hugged Traci tight and told her how much she missed her. That things have been so hard, but she would think about us and knew that someone out there- somewhere- loved her. It was a warm relief to know she was alive and surviving. Tough as anyone may think they are, they couldn’t live even a few hours of her life.
As a matter of fact, that was a topic of discussion at our next stop. We focus on the shelter challenged this time of year. I had 11 tents donated recently and those were a huge deal. As well as sleeping bags, blankets, and winter coats. Those flew out of the van first.
One of the girls I talked to said she had to quit “riding in cars” with men. The clients were too dangerous. My pretty red-haired girl talked about how a gentleman who had been on the streets for years, “The Barber”, was shot and killed the night before. Another friend of hers had died just a couple of day before that, she calmly reported as she sorted through winter clothing.
The first girl confessed that she was “car hopping” now. She was sleeping in whatever abandoned, or unlocked car she could find. It was still dangerous, but not as deadly as sex-work. We helped a lot of people who came from the dark alley at the back of the field. Everyone was beyond grateful.
We cruised around for a couple of more hours. We cleaned out of everything rather quickly. At our last stop, the medical team found a woman who desperately needed their attention. I got to play with her little kitten while Traci served the stragglers who came up to the side of the van for a sandwich, clean socks, hygiene kits, and most importantly- hugs.
Everyone was glad that we still have emergency blankets. I’m out of handwarmers, though.
At the end of the night, we drove back to HQ. We unloaded our empty bins and made the long drive home via 7 Mile.
It feels good to be back. It feels great to relaunch the nonprofit. It is a wonderful blessing to rent this corner of the gymnasium. It is a relief to have all the donation is one spot where Traci and I, or whoever, can actually, realistically sort and organize it all. We have the best opportunity for volunteers to help us. Thank you everyone wo kicked in a little something for this week. I saved all those cookies in my freezer! This is incredible. This is how good things can be. I trust in God. God trusts in me, too.
