Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

 Peace, Love & Hygiene: vol. 185       5/26/26

“Fear is a reaction.

Courage is a decision.”

Night view of a cityscape showcasing illuminated buildings and streetlights, with a modern structure featuring a canopy in the foreground.

Last night, Mags Miss was a team of one. That one was me. I got up early and shopped for Crustables pb&j. I had oranges and the famous homemade cookies. I had plenty of water and even Gatorade. I found some fruit cups and Goldfish crackers. Pretty close to a meal.

I made up new hygiene kits for everyone. It was easy to put clothes together since Caitie and her Crew organized it. Without anyone else in the van, I had room for shoes.

We swept a couple of abandoned schools to make sure no one was living inside. Or not living inside.

A lady who lived across the street asked us who we were there for.

“Hopefully, no one.” And I explained why we were there.

“Oh, thank you! God bless y’all! We need y’all out here!”

It helps to know that we have community support.

The air was bathwater warm. The sky was cloudy white, like a big porcelain tub and I was relaxed in it. My head is comfortably above water.

I got separated from the group. I almost gave up and drove back to the part of town I knew. But then they caught up with me and told me about 5 people who were living in tents in this park. I drove there, and there were more like 15 people by the time I got there.

A frail man walked up to my van with a couple of small bags in his boney arms. I introduced myself. I asked him if he needed any food or hygiene items. He told me that he just got some stuff from the other team.

“So then, I’m not sure how to help you.” I said.

“They sent me over here because they told me your food and hygiene kits were better than theirs.” he replied.

With my shoulders square and my head high, I said, “I got you, baby. They weren’t wrong.”

Then came the swarm. 3,4,5, 10 people gathered around the van.

One older woman started complaining, critiquing, being picky. After last week, I reached my limit with that,

“Look ma’am,” I said sternly and looked her in her squinty eyes. “You’re getting free food and a well packed hygiene kit from the side of a van. Now is NOT the time to get bougie with me. If you need to survive, then you can have it. If it’s not good enough, then give it back and let me give this to someone who needs it. Because they will. Bless your heart, I will help you. This is all donated by dear sweet church ladies. Take it if you need it, otherwise “no thank you” will do.”

Auntie Kayla had to put her foot down. Everyone fell in line. Everyone else was as sweet as could be. But there’s always that one…

Next spot was what I’m built for. It’s an area of some of the most rampant and violent sex and drug trafficking in Detroit. We’ve been going there for nearly 6 years now. It must have been at least another 20 people. They swarmed the side of the van as soon as food was mentioned. Then everyone wanted clothes and hygiene, too. But it was just one of me.

I went to the back of the van. I unloaded all the clothes and shoes and set them out in the street. That drew the big crowd away so I could get to the people still waiting. I saw a pregnant woman who looked like she was obviously still doing sex work. She asked for extra food because she pregnant and extra hungry. The man next to her said he wasn’t pregnant, just extra hungry. I gave him extra food, too.

After I asked if there was anything else, he asked me to pray for them. I did. I prayed for God’s protection over them. I prayed that they would understand that they were unconditionally loved by the creator of the universe. They were not forgotten. I prayed for them to know how important they were to God. That they would understand that love was all they needed to know to go to Heaven. And we all said together,

“Amen.”

When I looked up, he was weeping. I believe that means he felt it.

I gave them all a big bag of toilet paper rolls I had collected from work. Three cheers for tp!

I also handed out a bunch of pepper sprays the ladies were overwhelmed with joy to see. Serial rapists are in the area. The girl I spoke with had been abducted twice that day already. One man, she said maced her. She was so relieved that she and all their girlfriends had a fighting chance now.

Next spot.

One man. Then 3 ladies. Then 3 or 4 men. Then a couple of more ladies. Then I was picked clean out. Every bin was empty. I had some bottled water left, so I gave it to the other team because they were out.

It was me, a van of donations, and the reckless love God, hard at work last night.

Because that’s how we do it in Detroit.

Amen.

Aunt Bobbie & me
Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

Peace, Love & Hygiene: vol. 160 7/30/25 

“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. 

Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

Peace, Love & Hygiene: Vol. 143

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. 

Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

Peace, love & hygiene: vol. 112

January 29, 2024

What a night!

First, I had my dearest best friend and brother-by-another-mother, Nick with me. He was the Magdalene’s Mission chariot last night. You may have heard me talk about him before. He owns Jets Pizza in Hartland. All my events are catered by Jets.  Since the pizza store caught on fire in December, the guys have had a lot of free time while waiting for it to be rebuilt. Nick used some of his down time to make a difference. Make differences, we did. We packed up his van with winter gear, hygiene kits, and spaghetti and meatball with green beans dinners. The he drove me to Detroit to check out what goes out there.

Our first stop was on an overpass bridge. The medical team saw someone we knew with a sign. We pulled over and helped him out. He is with a friend of mine who finally got her own place. Unfortunately, her ID is gone, and she can’t move in until she replaces it. They think they have a path to getting it back though. Until then, they’re still staying in a burned down house.

As I was talking to him, he brought up two very interesting things. The first was that he finished reading my book! He thought it was really good. He said that he enjoyed reading it, but he admitted that there were a couple of parts where he had to put the book down for a minute.

The other thing was that he had a dream about me. It was a really weird dream, too. There were even dancing goth midget women involved. What a great dream to be a part of!

I took notes, but I left them in Nick’s car. We didn’t see a whole ton of people. It was pretty dead out. I did see a man picking through a trash can. We offered him real food and he was ecstatic. I put some gloves on his hands, too.

We drove down an alley and there were four old men surrounding a little bonfire. I used what I remember from eighth-grade Spanish to communicate. I’m going to study Spanish. No one on the street speaks French.

But my personal highlight of the year was that I finally found her. I found… Marilyn Monroe! Do you remember me talking about her a couple of years ago? She was with the Writer Dude. He died from kidney failure. Then she was pregnant. Baby got adopted. Then she was always sick. I kept trying to get to her. Once, I even went down into the creepiest, rat-infested, dope den, just so I could find her and hold her and remind her of how loved she was. But she was gone. And then months went by.

So, I prayed. And prayed. And prayed, And I never gave up on her, even in my heart.

Remember the house we went to last week where we gave away all the flashlights and it looked like lightsabers? She’s there. So, she’s in the area. She’s with people who are safe-(ish) to be with.

When I first saw her, she just walked up to me and starting smiling. At first, I didn’t want to get my hopes up that it was her, and then be embarrassed and disappointed if I was mixed-up. She went to the medical van and came back. She smiled again. I said, “Is it really you?” And we just grabbed one another and hugged for so long. I kept telling her over and over that I loved her, and I never stopped praying for her. And she squeezed me tight and said, “Thank you. I love you so much, too.”

I don’t know about you, but that to me is as powerful as it gets. She knew that she was loved. That no matter what, no matter what she has been through, my arms are always open to her. I can’t count the number of times I wanted to give up and be done with this relentless existence. But someone loved me. So, I was accountable. I didn’t throw myself away because I was worth something to someone (I love you Aunt Bobbie). Marilyn Monroe is priceless to me.

Nick and I have been best friends for 36 years. That’s longer than any of the other volunteers, or most of our homeless clients have even been alive. That means, everything I went through, Nick went through it, too.


Everything Nick has been through, we’ve been through that, too. That includes everything. From me hiding out in his house when I was a fifteen-year-old runaway, to being at each other’s first weddings, to being there for our first divorces. Then rejoicing when we found our forever spouses. Nick and I celebrated each other’s children when they were born. Nick took me in when I had to leave my abusive relationship with an alcoholic who fell into an even worse crack addiction. He and his wife are why I landed in Pinckney. And we mourned together, as each of us had a first-born child die young.

What we learned is that you need your friends. When Ms. GG came up to me last week, she was pretending to be tough. She was going to be independent, deal with her problems on her own. I recognize that. But a real friend can see below the surface. Traci and I could smell the hurt coming off from her. I gave her a chance to be held, to be safe, to be protected. This dear little great-grandmother was raped by one of the men who was staying in the same house. If we wouldn’t have seen her, she probably would never have got treated for sexually transmitted infection. She would be in so much more pain. We got her connected to the appropriate resources. Avalon is spectacular at helping people to recover after a violent sexual attack. She needed a friend. When everyone around you is in survival mode, real friendship is rare.

The reason I was there for her? You gave me stuff. Thank you, Jimmy, for all those great food containers. Thank you, everyone, for the coats, blankets, snacks, and money for hand warmers. I drove it to the most vulnerable people I could find on the streets of Detroit. And we helped them become whole people again.

I’ll say it again- The Kingdom of God is a verb, not just a noun. That Kingdom would be filled with friends and friendship.

We don’t ever give up on our friends. And when your friend asks for help, you help them.

Because that’s how we do it in Detroit.

Amen.

Post-script: This is our biggest fundraising time of the year. If you want to keep reading these reports and be a part of the healing in the world, you can donate to the Facebook Fundraiser. Or if you click on the How To Donate button at the MagdalenesMission.com website, you can access our Amazon Wish List that will send supplies straight to my house, or Venmo, or Square, or however you want to help. We can always use more socks, and drawstring bags.

Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

Peace, love & hygiene: vol. 93

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.

Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

Peace, Love & Hygiene: Vol. 70-

September 21, 2022

Last night, we didn’t go to Detroit. I spoke at my church in Pinckney. I talked about Magdalene’s Mission. I opened up about what it is that motivated me, and inspired me to dream that I could make this fearless non-profit successful. This is why what we do is incredibly sacred to me.

Ephesians 2:10, NIV: For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Welcome. My name is Kayla, and I am grateful to know Jesus Christ. Thank you for being here to witness my testimony.  

God and I have been working on this testimony  for my entire life. I didn’t always believe in God, but God always believed in me. After years of ignoring, then months of arguing with God, I finally submitted.

In the beginning…

My childhood was dramatic. My parents were unhealthy people. Traumatic things happened to me. I ran away from home… a lot. My grandma and my aunties never gave up on me.  Eventually, after a couple years, I gentled down. My grandma’s prayers saved my life. My life was good.  I was 19, in college, had the right guy, a real job, cool hair.

Got a truck and tried to learn to drive it. 48 hours later, I was barely clinging to life in a coma. Doctors weren’t sure I would ever wake up again. Meanwhile…

I traveled around without a body or consciousness for the next 17 days. On the 17th day, I was escorted to Heaven.  God was there waiting for me. Also, while I was there, I saw my great-grandfather, and my father. Which made no sense at the time considering what I knew of my father.

 Everything was a shade of gold. God and I talked about my life and my current situation for a bit. He knew what I had survived in my short years. He rewarded me with a choice of either resting in Heaven with Him or I could go back and finish up some things I never got a chance to do. I really wanted a child. I really felt that I should be a mother.

God rewarded me for not giving up despite the horror shows I had already survived.

I woke up.

I wouldn’t be a mother yet for another 16 months. But like God promised, I got my divine child. He was as beautiful as an angel. He was brilliant, gentle, funny, creative, curious, compassionate, loyal, genius, honorable, and unique. He was my son and my world revolved around him.  We were exceptionally connected and bonded. We remained closer to one another than any other person.

Kayla & Ambrose vs Everything

Life went on. Adventures ensued. 7 then 9 years later, I added 2 little girls to our crew. Their dad, no matter how much he loved us, couldn’t break his addictions. So, before I was completely broken by him, I ran away all the way to Pinckney where no one would find me. That turned out not to be exactly true.

God found me. He put Sean back into my life. God and I argued, seriously, for months. Then He led me to People’s Church where I have been on a journey to understand my place in God’s Kingdom, as well as what it means to be a citizen there since 2009. I learned at that time that serving others was an essential key to happiness. I volunteered for everything available to me.

Then in 2015, I came up with my own yearly fundraiser for homeless women. I named it, The Valentine’s Day Purse Project. Every January, I collected hundreds of purses from people and filled them with hygiene, feminine hygiene, and small snacks. Then I would pass them out to homeless women.  I met a young man here at People’s Church who provided free medical care to homeless women and victims of human trafficking in the most dangerous areas of Detroit. I committed my purses to his group. Traci and I drove around Detroit for a couple of hours one afternoon to help pass out purses. It affected us deeply. I came home and wrote about it for everyone to hear. Traci and I always wanted to go back. We knew we were the ones to help. We just didn’t have the resources, time, and a dependable vehicle. Mostly the latter. They still got our magnificent purses of love  every year.

 I was also a ministry leader. I oversaw Café Connections and making the coffee for the entire church every Sunday since 2010. I was a helper for God. My kids were raised to love God. I was doing the right things. Somehow, later that year I my family and I ended up homeless, but I never gave up. We landed in Whitmore Lake.

“The path of God

will never lead you

where the grace of God

cannot keep you.”

It was Kayla & Ambrose vs Everything for 19 years and 10 months. Ambrose was killed by a hit and run driver while walking home from work. The driver called his mom, then he and his brother dragged my sons broken body into a ditch and then drove away. It would be 3 days before Ambrose’s corpse was found.

For the first 2 years after my son was killed, I was hysterical with grief. I was inconsolable. I sobbed uncontrollably every day. Sleep was a memory. For the next 2 years or so after that, I existed as a shell. I was scraped out. I was a mechanical ghost.

My church family carried me every step of the way. God was patient with me.   

The mental-emotional excruciation nearly killed me as well.  Nothing, not even God, could I allow console me.

There was never any justice for my son as I, or his family can see it.  They even blew off the Wrongful Death lawsuit, and the judge reduced the amount I was suing them for. They have since ignored it.

The lack of protection from the justice system compounded my hysteria. I came to CR every Tuesday night, desperately seeking an excuse to exist.

Which leads me to the Kingdom of God.

I was growing progressively more and more mad, insane if you will. I drank too much. I started smoking cigarettes again. It took a heroic amount of marijuana throughout the day just to keep me sedated enough to not be committed or imprisoned. I prayed and prayed until my knees were raw for peace. What I got instead was work.

People were trying to donate to The Purse Project a few months early. I asked Susan if would be possible to make it a full-time job. I had donors with leftovers throughout the year and I didn’t have much space left to store it. I talked to Susan. I prayed on it. I made the commitment to dedicate what was left of myself to honor God. My husband Sean told me that what I do for the homeless would be my unwinnable war, but a real hero never quits fighting regardless of the odds. Ambrose talked about how the Purse Project was one of the most important things I will ever do with my life. Ambrose was ALWAYS RIGHT.

I turned my yearly fundraiser into a full-time nonprofit business. I named it Magdalene’s Mission after Jesus’ best and most loyal friend. Instead of dropping the purses off in Detroit once per year then driving home, I decided I wanted to pass them out myself. I took my best friend Traci with me. We loaded up my Denali with purses filled with personal care items, said a prayer, and then headed to Detroit. This time I followed around behind the medical team and the harm-reduction teams. We went to the worst parts of the worst areas. We saw homeless seniors, young people, men, women, black, white, brown, heroin addicted, prostituted, pregnant, wounded, crippled, all of it.

It was a January night and temperatures were in the teens. No one was wearing a coat. Most people were wearing only sandals or slippers if they even had shoes. The girls were all wearing knickers and t-shirts. It was just plain madness.

I came home and wrote Peace, Love & Hygiene: Vol.1

Some people read it. They were just as freaked out as I was. Ann  Janike offered to make sack lunches. The next thing I knew, my house overflowed with donated winter clothes. Everyone I knew, and everyone they knew, and so-forth just started emptying out their closets and contributing immediately to a truly righteous cause. Traci and I have been able to go out and serve the homeless and desperate almost every Tuesday since January 2021. We witness miracles. We testify. We pray. But first, we serve them.

Matthew 25:40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

Jesus said that.

God gave me a purpose. With that purpose comes redirection of energy. I work tirelessly to make sure my brothers and sisters in Detroit are cleaned, warm and fed. What God needs me to do, I need me to do. They need me to do. You need me to do it, too.

Every Tuesday night that we go out on the streets of Detroit, I show up to share the unconditional love of Jesus Christ. I come bearing gifts of lovingly made meals, clean clothes, and personal care items. I also pass out flashlights, tents, pepper spray, handwarmers, and bug spray. Sometimes I have hot cocoa and coffee. I bring bedding and towels. I don’t tell people what they need. I bring people what they ask for, what they truly need. Jesus went TO the woman at the well. I pray with people. We laugh, cry, dance in the street, sing praises, and moan dirges when our friends die.

And to every person I say, “Peace, love, and hygiene baby. I love you and God loves you, too.”

I tell them that, “God loves you so much, He asked people to fill up this entire vehicle with survival items you need.”

Also, “You are not forgotten. God loves you.”

And they believe me. They love me right back. It took a few months of consistency, but we earned their trust. They tell us we save their lives with our donations each week. I have created a company which is powered by donations from people like you. People who want to do the right thing. People who want to help but don’t know how. They want to give to a real person who is helping the hurting, vulnerable children of God.

That is the kingdom of God. The Kingdom of God is right here. You are sitting in it right now. We come in unity. Community. We show up.

As one of my favorite artists, Nick Cave, once said; “People don’t like to change. They modify themselves to improve upon what’s already there. But sometimes an event happens to you that is so significant it changes you. You cannot go back to being the person you were before it happened. You are a different person now.”

We must learn to navigate in our new forms.

I have leaned on God to help me understand how to operate in this headspace. At this stage, I am relentless. I am stubborn. I am committed to loving the unlovable and forgotten regardless of their viability to capitalism. Jesus walked into the leper camps. So, I walk into Seven Mile, the No-Go Zone. Jesus went to the woman at the well. So, I walk right up to the sex-workers and offer them food, peace, safety, protection.

I struggle to exist on this planet. I have made my home in God’s Kingdom. I do not simply believe in God. The same way I don’t believe in gravity. I know there is God. I know there is Ambrose. I know there are hit and run drivers still roaming the earth. I control nothing.

But…

I still have my gift of free-will. I am free to share the unconditional love of Jesus Christ with whomever I choose. And I choose to go where there is the most pain and suffering that I can find. Those are the people who can relate to me. Those are the people who do not judge pain. Those are the people who understand that the most basic and simple things should never be taken for granted. Even sleep is a luxury. When you are homeless, you can’t just sleep when you are tired. There are no beds. You are prey on the food chain.

Now, they are prayed for instead of prey. Now, people survive the cold winters. People live long enough to heal and bring others out with them. I lived long enough to heal and share that healing love with God’s children.

As a teenager, I was a wasted youth. I was a runaway. I was a professional car thief. I was uninhibited and careless with my body. I had closed head injuries and a train wreck for a childhood. I was homeless on the streets just trying to survive. I was ridiculous.

So, I gave my life to God, and I ended up homeless again with a dead son and no justice. But God never gave up on me. So, I didn’t give up on God. I had to remember who I am. I am a general here. I am the magnificently woven creation of the Creator of our universe. I cannot be undone. I may lose a battle but not the war. My army is a mass of inspired people from all over the country. My other generals, like Susan, Traci, and all the other volunteers are relentless and fearless.

Magdalene’s Mission not only saves homeless lives, but it also saved my life. And for each man, woman, and child who has contributed to Magdalene’s Mission has the peace of knowing that they made the world safer for a child of God.

I know my God. I know that I belong in his Kingdom. The Kingdom is already here. We are its caretakers. There is much work to do here. I will not waste my precious life in misery. That is my free-will. Praise God for that. He has a purpose for me. There is plenty of busy work here to occupy me until it is my time to be with Ambrose again.

I’m still never going to be the person I was before Ambrose was killed. I can’t go back. But I spent intimate time with my Creator, and I realized that I still have a purpose. I have two more magnificent children to be a good mother for. A kind husband who I am to be the grateful wife of. I was gone for a while. I am back now. I am different, but reinvented, renewed, refocused.

For all those reasons I never regretted giving my life and soul to Jesus Christ.

Because that’s how we do it in Detroit.

Amen.

Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

Vol. 49

February 15, 2022

Kayla & Marley

The theme for this week was relationships. Our relationships are our weapons of defense. Traci and I are a solid team. We’ve been working together at this street outreach for over a year now. This week though, her role as a mom trumped her role as a volunteer. At the last minute she couldn’t come out with me. The van was already packed with clothes, blankets, food and bags. I can’t have 35 portions of macaroni and cheese and 50 packed lunches sitting in my house for an extra week. So I turned to my middle-child and said, “Hey. You wanna come to Detroit with me tonight?”

Marley said, “Sure.”

Marley is my junior. She’s been hearing me talk about what goes on in Detroit every week. I raised her with street smarts. I trust her infinitely to pay attention and follow directions. It was a great decision. Marley was absolutely boss tonight. I put her in charge of the food. She was fearless and full of love, just like I knew she would be. We got compliments from other team members that she was an excellent and amazing TC.

The first place we went to was a hotel where a pregnant girl was staying. While Marley gave her food, I got her a Mag Bag. I noticed that she only had short leggings with laces on the side. She was shivering. She confessed they were her only pants so I made sure she had something warm and comfy. There was also a pregnant lady at the next stop we went to. It was only three or four people. Everyone is so sweet as always.

Someone had donated a nice soft memory foam pillow. I knew just who it had to go to. I had it wrapped up on the side for her. It was for my Girl Who Sits! She really is the Mother Hen. I gave her a pillow to sit on a while ago. She’s the widow who panhandles. A stalker burned her tent down and she lost everything she owned inside it. He terrorized her for quite a while. He’s gone now, so it was just perfect that I could give her a new one. She was so excited. There is a lot of love built up in these relationships. We notice the little things about each other. We appreciate the little things about each other.

The next stop we went to was a bit more dramatic. Marley handled everything in stride. We saw several women at that particular spot. Most of them I hadn’t seen before. One of them, I had. It was the Girl Who Always Reads! I hadn’t seen her in months. She asked for a copy of my book a while ago. I gave her one. When I saw her she squealed and ran around the van to come give me a hug.

“It’s you! I love you! I love you so much! I’m so happy to see you!” she kept saying as she hugged me.

She told me she was reading my book, and she really loved it. She thought it was amazing. And she wanted me to know that she loved me. My heart was so full it made my skin tingle. I noticed she had a black eye. I asked her if she was okay, and if the medical team had a chance to look at her yet. She told me that she showed it to them already. Some guy tried to strangle her. He beat her up as she fought him off. Eventually she was able to reach her pepper spray. I gave her another little can of mace.

“I love you guys so much.” she said.

I told her she was beloved by me, and beloved by God. She was not forgotten.

You should have seen these girls. I couldn’t stand to watch it. They were gathering around Marley waiting patiently for food as I got out of the truck. The first girl I saw was wearing only a toilet paper thin, tight little hoodie and some worn, thin, black, short leggings. She didn’t even have shoes. Just sandals. The beach ones without toes. I saw her and went up to her immediately.

“Baby girl,” I said. “you need to come here. You don’t have any clothes on. You don’t have a coat on. Not on my watch. Come here.”

I began pulling pants out and put them on her. I got her a warm sweatshirt (or two) and then put a super warm coat over that. She just smiled and kept saying how thankful she was. Then one after another, at least four more, of these girls were also barely dressed. I re-dressed each one of them behind the van.

“You deserve better. You are so loved. God loves you and so do I.”

The looks on their faces! It starts with a tiny crumpled up person. Then suddenly, layer by layer they begin to uncurl. Their bodies relax. Their jaws unclench, and a smiled can finally emerge through the tension. You can see the light come back behind their eyes. a warm glow replaces ashy grey. They always grow a few inches. Backbones straighten as pride surges through their bodies. Dignity returns. Self-preservation becomes a reality. They were not forgotten.

And that, my brothers and sisters, is what it looks like when you walk in the Kingdom of God. It’s not on a pamphlet. It can’t be found in a symbol, or heard during a message. It is felt. It is felt in relationships with other people. It is experienced. It is shared. It is the act of caring about what happens to other humans. Whatever it is that you might do to change something in this world for the better. The Kingdom of God is not a noun. It is a verb.

We put out a lot of pepper spray into desperate hands tonight. We saw another girl who was walking alone down the sidewalk. One of the other team members recognized her. The poor thing was crying. I rolled down my window as she walked by. She waved hello and blew me a kiss. She told me that she normally would love to stay, she needed stuff, but she wasn’t safe and just wanted to get home. Between the three teams, we were able to quickly get her pepper-spray for her walk, and phone numbers to call for help. She stuck around to let Katie hug her until she felt better, but then she wanted to hide again in the blanket of night that peeked out between the street lights. Katie is an angel. Even the most scared person can feel calm and safe near her.

Marley got to experience a special treat tonight. She got to see where Thomas lives. When we got to the top of his bridge, we pulled over. Marley packed him a meal while the medic team grabbed him a box of tea lights. We made the trek to his secret hiding spot. She was in awe of his ingenuity to construct such a perfect fort. She was surprised to see the little hanging picture of Jesus in front of the door. Alas, he wasn’t home, so we just left our gifts and well wishes behind on his door step.

We were on our second or third spot on the east side when we finally ran out of goods. Marley and I laughed together all night. We had an excellent time. She really felt called to be a part of this type of outreach in any way. She’s considering a career as a medic after being inspired by the Street Outreach Team (no longer affiliated with Covenant Community Care. Same team, new name). She laid a solid foundation for building relationships with other outreach teams in Detroit that work with transgender homeless.

The relationship between the three different nonprofits is a thing a beauty. Everyone compliments a specific need that is also a highly valued need; harm-reduction, healthcare, food and hygiene. A lot of donors and volunteers make this effort a successful one. I know that the key to our success is that we all have the same center of values. We believe that human lives are sacred and beautiful. Everyone has a story.

My relationship with Marley has grown to a whole other level. Marley’s relationship with herself has grown. She knows now about some skills and gifts she didn’t realize she had before tonight. Marley’s relationship with her world has grown. Civic issues aren’t just something to have an opinion on. They are opportunities to affect positive change.

I built a few new positive relationships. Always Reads knows my life story now, and all the trauma I survived. I know about her trauma, too. And we genuinely love one another because we both appreciate what it takes to survive. I love Stan, Andy, Kate, Maria, and Ti (Shout out to Ariel, Lauren, Mary, Kennedy, and the rest of DRP & medics). Without them, I would never have had the chance to meet these complex and inspiring friends. I have the opportunity to do something I’m good at. I can share the unconditional love of Jesus Christ. I can love on people and help them to love themselves. All the good that comes from that, I give the credit right back Jesus.

What I have to say doesn’t matter. It’s what we do that shows our heart’s true agenda.

Because that’s how we do it in Detroit. Amen.

#peaceloveand hygiene #magdalenesmission

Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

Vol.48

February 8, 2022

The theme for this week was Lots of Little Successes. We stayed back last week because I needed to get us caught up on sorting and organizing your beautiful bounty of clothing, blankets, and hygiene products. I also needed to get us ready for our yearly fundraiser. But I did it. I outsourced the meals this week. (Something I will be doing from now on. Text me or keep your eyes open for a sign up sheet) I got plenty of Mags Bags packed to the nines, and an assortment of the warmest coats, clothes and blankets I could find. Oh, and hot cocoa! We bundled up as warm as we could, and set out to help out some homeless people. We got more than we bargained for and in the best way.

We started off on the east side of Detroit this week. We went to a lot of neighborhoods around Eight and Seven Mile. The first couple of stops were to new places. Then we went to where one of our favorite senior men lives. He is quiet, and humble. Another kind homeless man whom we have gotten to know did us the honor of introducing us to his wife. They are the sweetest couple. He is always so overly polite, and compliments my food a lot. Maybe that’s why he’s one of my favorite people? He is always looking out for his wife. I respect that.

The greatest gift happened tonight. Do you remember me talking about a guy who Traci was making him eat and he did it? We had not seen him in a couple of months, at least. I was concerned. I don’t ask many questions, but no one had mentioned him either. Well, tonight we saw him. He was doing so much better! He got out of that terrible house and was living in a much nicer place. He looked healthy. He was building himself up. He was so happy to see us. We were able to help him keep up his good look with a hygiene kit and a newer, warmer, shirt and pants. It feels good to see people care about themselves. No matter how small the step, it took everything he had left in him just to lift his foot. But he did it anyway. Freedom is a powerful motivator.

We had another adorable thing happen tonight. It occurred at one of our hottest hot spots on the Eastside. When the caravan of vehicles arrived, we lined up around the corner then waited. One of the volunteers went up to their house to let them know we were all there. Just a couple of minutes later, one tiny little figure came running through the snow as fast as she could with her arms wide open. She hugged me and Traci as tight as she could for a long time. She was looking better than I had ever seen her. I could tell she had put on weight. She was eating! Her hair was styled. She was smiling. I had never seen her so happy. She was getting healthy. She ran right past all the other various resources to come and get her Love. She is one of the tiniest people you ever saw in your life. When I first met her last winter, she had no shoes, no coat, no pants, and no jacket. She was standing outside in below zero temperatures wearing a blanket wrapped around her and sandals. Traci and I have been spoiling her a little bit, and letting her be one of our favorites. I can see unlimited potential in her. She is blossoming like a tiny, shy, miniature rosebud.

Next, we went back to the Southwest side. The first person we saw was standing outside doing her job. She panhandles for money. She is a widow who lost everything after her husband died a few years ago. She’s been through even more just since I’ve known her.

She looked good. She was putting on some weight. She had been injured and then sick for a while. Yet another person who was looking better than I had ever seen them. She is just gorgeous. She has such a compassionate heart. I asked her if she needed a tent. She said she didn’t at the moment, but her friend did, so could she have it for him. After we gave it to her, she went back and got the guy and brought him to the van. I offered him food. He said he hadn’t eaten in two days. She told him we were the ones who gave him the tent. He was so gracious and grateful. We gave him a sleeping bag and a Mag Bag to go with it. I asked her if she needed more pepper spray. She kindly turned it down, explaining that she still had some left. It did help save her from being kidnapped yesterday. She was panhandling and someone tried to grab her. But they didn’t. She is still here. She is still mothering on the other homeless people. She is a flashlight in a dark alley.

We thought we would be out for a few more stops, but it was the next one that cleaned us out all the way. We were only going there to see a couple of people, but a few more appeared and the next thing we knew, we were empty. Our favorite senior lady was out and about tonight. She has the best smile. She’s been on the streets of Detroit for a long, long, time. Sometimes I wish we had more time to talk to people and hear all of their stories. Perhaps in the Spring, when the weather gets warmer and it’s not raining.

It was all these little successes that came together to make this last year one big, fat, successful mission.

Because that’s how we do it in Detroit. Amen.

#magdalenesmission

Magdalene's Mission Uncategorized

Vol. 47

January 25, 2022

Traci and the other outreach teams make a visit.

The theme for this week is Grit. I’m still pretty shook up as I type this to you. I’ll try to take you through our night.

Traci and I hit the streets tonight in a great mood. We arrived in plenty of time to chat it up with the other volunteers. We agreed that we were going to try and help our friends who were shelter challenged first. The weather app on my phone said it would get down to 0 degrees tonight. The weather can kill. It hurts me after a few minutes. The air was aggressive cold tonight.

The violence has gotten heavy lately. A lot more shootings in the neighborhoods and at the gas stations where we stop every week. We can hear the gunfire in the background. Last week, a girl was attacked with a box cutter. She had 2 large gashes on her face. He would have killed her but for the PEPPER SPRAY she had with her that allowed her to escape. Someone talked of another girl who was killed with a box cutter on Michigan Avenue and bled out right there on the sidewalk. I don’t worry about me. I worry about them when I’m not there.

We stayed on the southwest side. The first stop we went to was a familiar one. A few other volunteers went behind the buildings and to the back of the lot. Traci and I watched them knock on the doors of abandoned vans and cars. Sometimes people would live under tarps covering piles of wood and pallets. After a few minutes, our friends emerge. The first woman we saw was wearing a windbreaker and a yellow knit blanket wrapped around her waist. She didn’t own any pants. No pants. The woman was so thin it looked like she might blow away and it was barely even windy. Traci redressed her. The poor thing just stood there while Traci layered her with warm shirts and a real winter coat, hat and gloves. She saw a price tag still on the pants we gave her. (Thank you Katie N!) Traci said she could have cried.

We found a man who needed a tent. We had a tent! He didn’t want to take anything else he felt he didn’t need. He kept reminding Traci that he had a driver’s license still. Everyone was super hungry. The Mags Bags are still a hit. It’s all the payment in the world when I see how relieved someone is when I explain what is in there- hat, gloves, socks, hand and toe warmers, hard candy, a hygiene kit including baby wipes, tissues, feminine hygiene products, and sometimes manicure sets and hair ties or a random special.

We drove around for a while and found a couple people here and there. We visited our friends who live under bridges and some in tents in abandoned lots. We passed out a lot of flashlights and pepper spray to anyone we could.

At one point, the medical team was off doing medical stuff so Traci and I followed the other teams over to another spot to wait. They had their own clients as well. We waited for several minutes before someone came and told us what was going on. Things got pretty dramatic and I can’t go into it here. But we saw some really dark stuff tonight. Stuff I’m not going to shake off. That’s all I am willing to put on the internet.

The weather is life or death. First-aid can be life or death. Walking, sitting, sleeping, talking, not talking, food, everything, anything. All of it all the time. This is not a lifestyle someone chooses because its so effortless.

Since I started coming to Detroit I met people who were intentionally shot, crippled by drive-by shooters, run over, thrown out of cars, robbed, raped, stabbed, had all their belonging set on fire, all their hair chopped off, branded, or worse. We try to offer a moment of reprieve. A glimmer of hope. And that is all they need to keep going a little longer.

Grit…

Other teams wanted to keep going on to some other houses where they knew they were needed. Traci and I gave them our last 8 meals, some bags, blankets and sweatshirts, then called it a night in Detroit.

Now I am in my warm house. I’m drinking a Sam Adams beer then I’m going to go lay down in my warm bed with lots of blankets and my foam pillows. First, I’ll look around for a snack to eat while I fall asleep safely watching cartoons. My sweet and sober husband is snoring softly for the next few hours until he goes to work. I’ll be able to get up with my kids, take a shower, and then drive them to school.

My friends on the streets can not do any of those things. Not a single one. Yet, I will most likely not be shot, run over, robbed, raped, stabbed, had all my belongings set on fire, branded, or worse. Not that I haven’t experienced any of that at some point. It’s just that if it happened now, it would be out of the ordinary. For those girls, it’s just a potential threat of every moment their life. They gotta have grit to survive.

I’m praying for them. They so tiny. Their friends are just awful. I’m so glad Andy and the other volunteers were there at the exact moment they were. I am grateful for everything everyone has ever donated to Magdalene’s Mission so we can be there to do whatever is we can for people.

Because that’s how we do it in Detroit. Amen.

#magdalenesmission #peaceloveandhygiene