A few months ago, I took a meal and prayer out to our homeless friends who stay by a church near downtown.
D. was walking in the street rather than sleeping in his alcove, and when I asked what I could pray for him, he immediately said, “A hedge of protection,” and started to cry. “Pray for protection for me,” he urged. “It’s getting harder out here every day.”
His distress was urgent and heart-wrenching. I started to tear up myself as I called in Jesus and Archangel Michael for protection for him. I prayed hard for him as he broke down and prayed with me. I wanted him to know that he was going to make it, that he was safe, and that God was watching over him. That was on a Tuesday.
On Thursday, I saw him again, and he said he felt better. He seemed clear-minded and focused, as if he had a purpose and could follow it. I told him he looked good that day, and he disagreed.
“People who’ve known me wouldn’t say that. I’ve lost 65 pounds. I look terrible.”
More than that, though, he said he had an appointment with his social worker at Vanderbilt and was waiting to get into the Elam Mental Health Center at Meharry Medical College for their rehab program for opiate addiction.
When I told him that I knew a couple of the women who help run Elam’s program from the church that they attend, he said he would tell them that we helped him a lot, that we looked after him when he was out there on the street.
He told us that if we didn’t find him in his usual space by the church that he would be at Elam. I prayed with him that God would move him off the waiting list and into the program, even with the coronavirus slow-down and delays. When I didn’t see him again, I continued praying for him.
About a month ago, when I was getting food out of the car and knew someone was lying down in that same alcove, that someone popped out onto the sidewalk and said cheerfully, “Hey! Aren’t you going to come talk to me?!”
It was D., and although I wasn’t happy that he was out on the street, I was happy to see him ~ and to hear his progress report.
He had, indeed, been in Elam’s opiate addiction treatment program, and he loved it. Full of gratitude, he kept saying, “They’re great people! I love them. They’re really great people there. I love them.”
Apparently, according to D., two of the staff members at the treatment center had come down with coronavirus, and the clinic had to go through a 10-day quarantine, during which its residents had to leave.
D. was back on the street temporarily, but clearly in a treatment program that was healing him. He said he had gained 40 pounds back, and he had clearly defined calf muscles and biceps. I was so happy to see muscle on him!
For the first time, now that he was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt, I saw the sizable scabs on his arms from using opiates by injection, but even these scabs were healing.
He was hungry, for sure, that day, after not eating for a day or two, so I gave him three or four of our chicken and biscuit meals, but he knew all that he had to do was wait until the following Monday to reenter Elam’s rehab program.
He already was planning on finishing the complete program and then going to a halfway house afterwards that would support his recovery and help him reenter the workplace and find housing again.
Praise God! Hallelujah!
We know you’re making it, D.!
In Your Name, Jesus, we pray. Amen.
~ Julie