Final Blog plus One!

I know, I know....Last week was supposed to be Thea and my last blog, and, when I wrote mine, I thought it would be the last one. By last Thursday evening, I was in "advanced wind-down" mode: Thea and I would be leaving for home on Saturday and I was working my penultimate meal. Then, a true miracle occurred. Here's how it happened.

I was doing one of my favorite jobs -- lineup. It involves organizing our guests in a line and sending them into the dining room in an orderly fashion. Since it was nearly my last day of work, many of the guests greeted me, saying how much they had enjoyed getting to know Thea and I over the past 10 months. It was a really nice experience, and the evening was flowing along well. By 5:30, the line was beginning to shorten up when, all at once, I saw a striking young women enter the yard. She was very beautiful, dressed very nicely, and, obviously to my eye, was a prostitute, but she was not one of our neighborhood's "working girls". In fact, I had never seen her before.

As she approached the head of the line, I thought how sad it was for such a beautiful, apparently intelligent, young women to be "on the street". I imagined her father/mother grieving for her and the life she had chosen. As she approached the head of the line, I examined her closely -- she was drowsy, very drowsy, and in fact was almost falling asleep on her feet -- a sure sign of heroin.
She got to the second position in line. In a few seconds, I knew that I would be sending her in to eat. All at once, "little voice" inside of me that I often hear at critical times said "You must do something about this. This is your chance to help this girl -- do it, RIGHT NOW!"

Feeling a little embarrassed, I bent down to her (she was much shorter than I), looked her in the eye and said: "You are too pretty and young to be living like this. You must get off the street." She began to cry and between sobs said: "I know, I want to get off the street. I want to get into a rehab program." I asked her: "Are you ready to do it now?" She said, "Yes", and I told her that my name was Mark and that she should come see me after she finished eating. I sent her into the dining room. The whole encounter had taken, what, maybe 45 seconds.

About 20 minutes later, she emerged from the dining room and walked right up to me. In the interim, I had consulted with Karen, the St. Francis Inn's staff lawyer, who advised me to take the young women to the Worker's Clinic up the street. Since I was busy with line up job, I asked one of the FVMs -- Leo -- to escort her to the clinic. He did, but after a few minutes, the little voice was back: "Go to the clinic and be with her", it told me. "She needs your help."

And so I went to the clinic and found the young women sitting on a bench, waiting to be seen.
I went to Mary Beth, head of the clinic, and explained the situation. Then, I sat next to the young women. I asked her: "What is your name?". "Courtney". "How old are you?" "27". "What drug are you on right now?" "Heroin." "How did you end up here?" Through tears, she explained that she was a college graduate with a nursing certification and that she had been living with her mother. Things were going OK, but then, her mother unexpectedly died, and unable to cope, Courtney had turned to drugs. For the past few months, she'd been "bouncing around" in various homes of friends, semi-friends, and acquaintances. Several weeks ago, she had run into "an old man friend" who said that he would "help her". The "help" turned out to be a night job working the streets. "How did you get away?" I asked. "I told him I was going out to the store, and I just kept walking. I walked a long way." " How did you find the St. Francis Inn", I asked. She replied, "I was really hungry. I asked some of the street people where I could find food, and they directed me to the Inn. I have never been there before this evening." Then she said something chilling: "If I had stayed with that man, I was a dead woman!"

The story rang true to me. Thea and I had gone to a seminar at St. Joseph's University in February on human trafficking, and knew that there were many young women in similar situations in Philly. The Kensington neighborhood was specifically mentioned as a center for this activity, and, we had been asked to be "on the lookout" for young women in trouble. I realized that, subconsciously, I had been doing exactly that.

By now, it was about 6:15 and Courtney was taken upstairs to be interviewed. She was gone a long time and then Johanna, one of the medical staff who had interviewed Courtney, came down and motioned me to the back of the clinic. Johanna said:"In all my years at this clinic, I have never met such a delightful young women. She's beautiful, educated, and well mannered, but she is at a critical moment in her life. We have got to get her into a detox facility this evening. If we wait until tomorrow, she may change her mind, and the opportunity will be lost."

The clinic would be closing in ten minutes, and I knew that Thea and I had dinner plans with Karen. BUT, someone had to help Courtney. Left to her own devices, she would soon be back out on the street. And so, I called Thea on the cell phone, explained the situation, and asked her and Karen to meet Courtney and me at the entrance to the clinic. About 15 minutes later, we were heading the to the detox center about two miles from the Inn.

One of the centerpieces of our national medical overhaul debate has to do with universal coverage and the availability of medical care to those in need. I saw this firsthand with Courtney. When we tried to check her into the detox center, she was rejected, EVEN THOUGH SHE HAD INSURANCE! Unfortunately, it was a company that this facility did not do business with. Undaunted, Karen, Thea, and I drove her into downtown Philly to the Jefferson Hospital ER. Courtney had been there six month before -- also for drug treatment -- and we knew that she should still be in the system.

When we arrived -- by now it was 8 PM on a Thursday night -- the ER was in full swing. There were, perhaps, 100 people waiting to be seen. Using my best administrator's voice, but aware that the Triage Nurse was being bombarded from all sides by needy people, I explained the situation. The nurse typed in Courtney's name, and if by magic, her insurance information came up and we were admitted to the ER. As we sat there, Courtney said, "You are all angels. I can't thank you enough for staying with me and bringing me here."

Within a few minutes, one of the Intake nurses took Courtney into an interview room. After about 10 minutes, the door opened and the Nurse motioned me inside. Based on Courtney's story, the hospital would take her in for the night and in the morning, evaluate her and (perhaps) place her in a detox center. After getting a promise from the Intake Nurse that Courtney would not be put out on the street that night, I gave Courtney a hug and left. Amidst her tears, she told me: "I can never repay what you have done for me tonight." I scribbled my phone number on a piece of scrap paper, told her to call me if I could help further, and then Karen, Thea, and I went to dinner -- about two hours later than originally planned!

Over the meal, I asked Karen what she thought Courtney's chances were. Karen replied that, given the fact that Courtney had not been on the street long and that her addiction was relatively short, she might have "as high as a 50/50 chance" of escaping from this life style. "Most of the prostitutes", Karen said, "are so dependent on drugs that there is virtually no chance of escaping."

I went to bed that evening, praying that God would be with Courtney, and that He would give her the strength to go through the detox process and to turn her life around. At 11:30 PM, my cell phone rang. It was the Psychiatrist at Jefferson Hospital, asking if I could give her any additional information on Courtney. I told the doctor what little I knew, and she told me that Courtney would probably be admitted to one of their rehab programs the next day. I thanked the doctor and tried to go back to sleep with limited success.

Thea and I worked at the Inn on Friday and then left for NC on Saturday. The weekend was filled with seeing our daughter Angela and her family and with the baptism of our newest granddaughter, Reese. By Sunday afternoon, we were back home and dealing with all the homecoming issues -- AC not working, unpacking boxes of household items, and, in general, getting our Hickory lives started again. Even as I worked on the household chores, Courtney was never far from my mind. I prayed for her every day and wondered where she was. Had the hospital admitted her to the rehab program? Had she stayed or given up and gone back out on the street? Would I ever learn what happened to her?

Then, this afternoon (Wednesday), the most remarkable thing happened: I got a voicemail from Courtney! She thanked me again for what I had done for her and left me a return telephone number. I called back and eventually reached her. She's finishing up her detox -- the heroin withdrawal was horrible -- and tomorrow will go to a rehab center for a (minimum) two week treatment. She told me that, although she'd failed the last time in her attempt to get off drugs, this time she would make it. "I want to go back to school, get married, and have a family", she told me. "This is my last chance." And then she said, "None of this would have happened without you, Mark. I owe all of this to you." We agreed to stay in touch; I encouraged her to establish a support system of friends to help her during this critical time; we exchanged contact information; and I rang off.

Will Courtney be successful this time in breaking her addiction to drugs? I don't know. Will she be able to turn her life around and reach her goals of being a nurse, wife, and mother. I don't know that either. Will we stay in touch and will I be able to support her from afar? Don't know that either.

But I do know this: truly the Lord worked through me last Thursday night to give this young woman another chance at life. I pray that she will take it. And I feel so thankful, joyful, and elated that God would choose me to be, in this small way, His hands, feet, and arms. One final comment: isn't it amazing that when we least expect it, He comes. I mean, I had been at St. Francis Inn for upwards of 300 days and it was on the next to last one -- when I was practically out the door -- that this miracle happened.

God surely does work in mysterious ways!