An ariel photo of a car driving down a road surronded by trees.
Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

On the evening of Dec. 2, 2021, I received a phone call that would change my life. My children were awarded temporary custody to my mother. I dropped the phone, cried, and cried, and took a hot shower and worshiped
and praised God. That evening I asked for a direct arrow to come down from heaven and it needed to happen then, so the Lord gave me direction to pack just the essentials and head for the nation’s capital D.C.

This is the story of a woman that started life over and realized that our nation’s capital and the surrounding states make it nearly impossible to get help and to get out of low income government assistance programs. This article is about my life in the DMV.

The date that I started my journey was on Dec. 3, 2021. It was a very long day, when my mother took my children temporarily away from me for supposedly endangering them. She argued that by housing the homeless, I was putting them in danger. The homeless couple that stayed with us was young and had no criminal history. They were living out of a jeep with no heat and had a baby.

I helped them obtain a local job and housing. They left shortly after. Ironically, little did I know that I too would become homeless shortly thereafter and have my children taken from me for helping the homeless.

I had a home, a van, three kids, and a dog. Life was very content. I worked a full-time job running my own cleaning company and was busy going to school events and being very involved in the school board and with my children’s extra activities. Our family has always given back to the community and to the churches that have helped us along the way. The Lord blessed me with the heart of compassion, and this means I care. Every other weekend my children and I would hand out gift bags, goodies, food, clothing and many more items to the homeless in and out of our community.

My children and I also attended church every Sunday and Wednesday. If you’ve seen my sassy yet cute 5-year-old, she would be sure to sing “let me tell you about my Jesus.” My 6-year-old always turns heads, holds open doors and says things like “have a blessed day.” My 11-year-old, she has a heart like her momma. She is caring, kind and always willing to give.

It took me ten hours to drive to D.C. from Michigan. I was
blessed from the very beginning of my journey, as I generally
have a very hard time driving through traffic. I travelled through Cincinnati, Cleveland, Pennsylvania, Baltimore, and D.C. Along the way, there were many blessings. I have had a hard time since my car accident a year ago driving over bridges and high mountains. The Lord gave me the strength and courage to get across not one, not two, but seven bridges over bodies of water and overpasses to get to my final destination.

The nation’s capital had so much beauty, yet hidden behind this beauty is a world of hurting. There are many people who are homeless and so many neglected humans searching for their next meal, their next shower, and their next place to sleep at night. Soon after arriving, I learned just how dark D.C. and Maryland are as places.