Her Name Was Angela

August 20, 2019- August 2011, I found myself working for a church. I hadn’t attended church regularly in at least 3 years. There was too much hurt there. People were there, so it is inevitable that pain may happen. Pain did happen. The difference was, this time people were clinging to love and clinging to the idea of loving one another, though darkness loomed. No one was kicked out of the church. No one was discarded because of their mistakes. It was complicated and ugly but, in the end, love was there. Love was there through a group of people who lived what they believed.

As I stood witness to this, I found myself praying. I prayed a simple prayer but one out of anxiety, pain, anger, and empathy. I didn’t understand the why of all that was happening but I knew what I wanted. “God, help me to love people. I don’t want to love them. I don’t understand them. I can’t do it on my own.” Over and over again, I said this prayer. I would have days when tears were streaming down my face and I would cry out. I knew something powerful was going to have to intervene. On my own, I wanted to judge people and walk away from them. I wanted to yell at them about the things that they had done wrong. I wanted justice. But there was a small voice that knew that what I had witnessed through others was what should happen. Love. Forgiveness. Understanding.

From that prayer so many years ago, I find myself living it’s meaning daily, although not always perfectly. I find myself working with people day in and day out that many years ago I would have written off. I would have walked away. I would have avoided their existence. It’s hard to say or even imagine that now. Each person I meet and build a relationship with in the homeless community has become an extension of me. Whether they’re incredibly difficult or incredibly pleasant or something in between, every meeting, every talk, every conversation, leads me closer to them. We laugh. We share food. We connect, all in an effort that one day they will reach a more stable life by conquering whatever demons they’ve been running from. Sometimes it's simply about hoping they feel seen, they feel heard.

This morning I received a call about one of our homeless neighbors, Angela Rigney. Many knew her as Angie or Momma. I’m sure she might have had other nicknames I hadn’t come across yet. She was hit by a vehicle on Broadway Drive last night and the driver fled the scene. No matter what some thought of Angela, she didn’t deserve to be hit and left for dead in the street. She was a known face and presence in our community. She had many demons she carried. She was difficult at times. She got in trouble. She was trouble. I can’t help but laugh when I type that. Those that knew her will know exactly what I mean.

In spite of all her “stuff”, there was a person in there. There was a person that wanted to be loved and accepted. She’s the person Jesus was talking about when he said, “Love your neighbor”. She was a person that would test your patience and make you laugh all in one sitting. She was a person that was complicated and yet when corrected, was almost child-like in her apologies. She was a person that was a force to be reckoned with, and right now there are many that are grieving her absence. Once you met her, you never forgot her.

Yesterday morning I was in McDonald’s on Broadway Drive finishing up an assessment with a client. Angela shuffled through the door, walked straight to the back where we were and threw all her stuff down. Everyone that knew her knows, she lacked an inside voice. She started exclaiming how cold it was, immediately. The entire restaurant knew she wasn’t happy and maybe some people at the drive thru window too. She used the restroom, grabbed something to eat from her bag, and sat right behind us, crunching as loudly as possible. We talked briefly about life, about what had happened in the week since I saw her last. I got up after telling my other client goodbye and told Angela that it was good to see her. The last thing I said was “take care of yourself”. She said in her very loud, shrill Angela voice, “Alright baby. It was good to see you too. See ya later.”

See ya later, Angie. There will never be anyone quite like you. Thank you for teaching me what loving my neighbor is really about.