(BLACK PR WIRE) She rests on a dampened, moldy and fragmented cardboard box carefully placed just inches from the bushels of debris left behind by others before her. Her withered limbs extended out before her, she desperately clamps onto little Bethany, her 7-year-old daughter, who innocently pats her mother’s swollen and disfigured face in an effort to wake her.



“It’s time! Momma, it’s time! We have to get in today, or we’ll have to sleep out here again!”



“14!...number 14!” shouts someone from around the building.



Tania slowly lifts her head and pushes her aching body up and away from the ground beneath her. After firmly gripping Bethany’s hand, they both make their way toward the building’s entrance. She then places her ticket on the table beside the door, gazes down at her daughter and whispers, “We’re in, baby! Nobody can hurt us in here.”



This somber, daily intake process at the shelter is all too familiar to 10-year ministry veteran and former manager for the Women and Children’s center at the Miami Rescue Mission, Terri Ramos. Terri, who was recently promoted to Public Relations Director within the mission, is no stranger to the intricacies involved. Like Tania, thousands of women experience (whether temporary or permanent) homelessness in America each year, and statistics indicate that an increasing 65% are African-American. While the most common or typical criteria appears to be domestic violence, many others narrate variable testimonies which ultimately lead them to the same place.



Statistics also indicate that the average American is leading a life that is far beyond his/her means, and is but a paycheck or two away from homelessness. “It often only takes one fight between husband and wife (divorce), one or two mortgage/rental payments to fall behind, a sudden medical condition (depression, cancer, etc), or a death in the family to create an overwhelming whirlwind of expenses, and jolt them out in the streets!” says Terri.



As a volunteer for the mission, having been assigned the arduous, yet blessed task of teaching the ladies a class on “self-esteem”, I, too, learned from the get-go that although most were grateful for a more secure living arrangement, many of the women were, in fact, placed in shelters by the State for reasons ranging from addictions, to their children being molested by boyfriends or family members, to mental illnesses, prostitution and so on.



I was also made aware, in no uncertain terms, that while the causes varied, the common denominator remained intact: These women were and are, indeed, broken—broken in mind, broken in body, and broken in spirit. They lash out at a society they feel has forgotten them because there exists an evident void in their lives that they do not understand, let alone begin to identify with that which is required to fill it.

2 Cor. 10:12 says, “We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves. When they measure themselves, by themselves, and compare themselves to themselves, they are not wise. This is the Bible verse I placed great emphasis on within my syllabus, thus, shifting their focus away from society and unto their inner core.



The Rescue Mission provides not only food, shelter and counseling, but also the prospect of awakened HOPE and SALVATION through their A.W.A.R.E.N.E.S.S. (a woman’s answer regarding education, nurture, encouragement, self-esteem, and salvation) program, which runs a course of 8 to 10 months, focuses on spirituality daily, and is based on the Bible verse-Jeremiah 29:11 which says For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord; plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you HOPE and a future.”



Unfortunately, although many of the women suffer from recurring trauma, (and drama!), and oftentimes walk into the shelter beaten beyond recognition, they must ultimately have to be at wit’s end to join and remain within the program.



I entered the shelter one cool Friday morning and walked past the foyer, across the seating area, and out into a small playground and terrace in the back of the building. I could not help but notice a more hopeful Tania, humming, “Momma’s gonna’ buy you a mockin’ bird” as she stroked little Bethany’s hair. I walked over to where they sat, and handed her one of several small note-pads I had purchased for the ladies, intended to be used as daily journals.



She reached over, opened the cover which read, “I am beautiful, both inside and out, and I am worthy of God’s love!”



A now tearful yet joyful Tania looked up at me, carefully placed her hand on mine, and softly whispered, “I know that now, Ms. Maddie. I know that now.”