finding safety for Belinda (part 3)

No one should have to sleep on the sidewalk without any human connections.

Dozens of people stepped forward sending to help the door between desolation and home open for Belinda. I spent the week hyperfocused on both the emotional support and the logistical mountain-moving needed for Belinda’s journey. The air felt filled with humble grateful joy. I postponed everything else, asking permission and grace from my clients; it was granted. I love to see the elements and atoms of a human life spin and rearrange. The application of resources shared can reshape space. With the help of friends’ donations, we kept the hotel paid, bought new shoes and essentials. We visited at least twice a day with hot homemade food.

trying on new shoes

The day after we Fedexed the letter to Belinda’s father, Dwayne — a moving plea for help to an 85 year-old father from a 61 year-old daughter — my friend Heather offered to drive her from Austin, Texas to her father’s land outside Wichita, Kansas. We laid out the pros and cons.

So much was unknown. There were so many potential crises. What if Belinda wasn’t truly sober and began using drugs on the drive? We hadn’t known her long enough to build solid trust. What if they got to her family’s house and she was rejected?

What if she got out at a freezing truck stop and walked away? What if we could not ascertain if we’d brought her to injury rather than safety?

If things went belly-up, I thought, maybe we could bring her to a homeless shelter in Wichita. That would be better than a sidewalk outside Walmart. That plan would be risky and extremely energy-intensive but Belinda said she wanted to go back to Kansas, no matter what.

Norma got on the phone and called all the homeless shelters within 100 miles of her family’s land. We both knew what to expect: nada. None had beds available—the waiting lists were six months or more long. Ethically, we couldn’t leave a deeply vulnerable person in a snowy landscape without contacts.

If she visited Wichita and there was no welcome for her, she could come back to Austin. Her original ask was a sturdy tent in the woods. I didn’t know if it was worth all the resources, or if I could raise them to bring her there or back.

There’s a question, always, of how much money to pour into one person’s recovery, versus sharing it among several people. But when it all starts happening and has momentum, I don’t want to pull back.

I went to Belinda’s room. She had an idea and jumped up: “The YMCA! Dad goes to the YMCA! He showers there! Call them!”

I called the Wichita YMCA. A bouncy young worker answered the phone and promised to give my number to him, if indeed he was a member (which she couldn’t confirm). Meanwhile, Norma searched tax records and RJ searched a paid people-finding database. I drove to bring my mother to the doctor.

Divine timing all came together around 4pm. Norma called with Belinda’s father’s phone number.

I pulled the car over and called her father. His voice was kind. He said he didn’t know if she was dead or alive and he wanted to talk to her right away. “We lost touch with her a while back, but we’ve been thinking about her everyday.”

“Do you have a space for her, where she could live and be safe?” I asked him.

“Well, we’ll have to see,” he said. “Maybe. Yes. It all depends.”

“Do you have something better than sleeping on the sidewalk outside of Walmart?” I asked.

He laughed. “I probably do.”

I dropped my mom off with lunch and went straight to Belinda. She clapped and danced around like a little girl. We placed the call to him on Facetime.

The video reunion went beautifully. They sang, “Be my, be my baby,” together. He said he wanted to try to come to Austin himself if he can, but he has cancer and his car needs work. “I’ll try to come tomorrow,” he said. “Before the snowstorm hits here.”

I offered that we could still drive Belinda up. Heather suggested she could meet him halfway. No, he said, he would just drive himself, and sleep overnight in a YMCA parking lot.

“I’ll keep her hotel room another night after you get here so you can get some rest,” I said.

After they hung up, Belinda said, “I have a reservation with the big man upstairs and my time is limited so I’m exhausted, yes, but I feel excited inside myself. I feel like a giddy little girl. God finally took care of me, finally, finally! I get to be the one going home. I’m so excited in my stomach I can’t sit still. I swear I’m gonna tell my daddy goodnight and good morning every day until my life is over. I’m excited. Thank you.”

I went to the front desk and extended the motel room for three more days. Friends following her story were sending money in small amounts, filling my heart and providing fuel. I hadn’t had time to count it, but trusted it would all work.

Norma found the YMCA he’d be nearest to as it got dark and texted directions.

Dwayne arrived the two days later around noon. His white Prius was tricked out with solar panels on the roof, a bucket with a toilet seat, and a wooden platform for a sleeping mat. He got out with a huge smile and we hugged and then shook hands.

“You are so creative and ingenious! Look at this rig!”

He told me he worked his whole life as a mechanic in boiler rooms, in factories and plants. He said, “I sold my scrap metal and my broken lawnmowers to get the gas money to drive down. It took longer than expected because I hit a deer on the highway and I had to wire the bumper back on.”

Belinda barreled out of the room and hugged him, trying to jump in his arms.

“Where have you been, old man?”

“Right in the same place I always been, darlin’. Down the valley.”

Primal beauty of lost turning into found. I stood, full of wonder then left so they could be alone for a few hours and came back to take them to the dinner of her choice—China Buffet. She had 2 whole platters of clams. I had 8 sesame red bean balls. He had jello, banana pudding, peaches and ice cream.

“Let’s see what our fortune cookies say,” I said, and we opened them. “What did you get?" I asked her father. He held it up and read, “Anticipate positive transformation and growth.” A benediction.

Belinda’s fortune read, “You will be successful someday.”

“Am I going to be successful?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. Wayne chuckled.

Trusting enough to be brought inside, envisioning and allowing a major life change to happen is successful. Going from the estrangement and pain of the street back into family relationships, however complex, is a success. I thought these things, I didn’t say them.

My fortune cookie read, “Find nice friends and take them out to dinner.” Some cosmic cookie deity was having fun with us.

I asked Belinda what advice she has to give other people living outside. She said, “Keep your faith in yourself and stay positive. Make your thoughts positive everyday. That’s the best thing you can do no matter who you are.”

Small changes can lift big levers, can transform possibilities. Time is the teacher. Sometimes it’s back and forth, back and forth. But progress happens for some. I felt cautiously hopeful that home could happen for Belinda.

I dropped them off at the hotel and promised to come back at nine in the morning to help see them off.

This story will continue in my next message. Thank you to my paid subscribers and friends who help make this mutual aid work possible.