It seems our work in Detroit goes through seasons. Once, when our Spanish-speaking sidewalk counselor was out of town, we received no calls from Spanish speakers, nor were any of the clients at the abortion mill Spanish speaking. In that time, we had several calls for help, but they all came from young African-American women. Then there was a time in which we were called upon to counsel Islamic women–although lately, in the past several months, there have been no Islamic women at the mill. As I’ve commented elsewhere, the most recent theme is housing. Just about everyone we are working with needs to be moved or has been recently moved. Our big family of nine has not yet found a house. We suspect the landlords don’t want the children. Our Hispanic mother of three recently moved into the apartment we prepared for her. She appreciated all the painting and fixing–though she also made it clear that all she really wanted was a place without rats or mice. Last night I talked to another mother–not one that we met at the abortion mill, and not one who is single and/or perhaps abused. She is married and has four young boys, but has been unable to make it, financially. Her home is going into foreclosure, so she asked for our help. Do I draw a line? Do I tell her she doesn’t qualify? I can’t. I’m not in charge of the bank account. God is.
Our Spanish speaking counselor, meanwhile, is always willing, but almost overwhelmed. Is there anyone else who can speak Spanish fluently and at least take some phone calls? I am told I should learn it. I agree, I should….
