For Odessa's homeless

As the freezing temperatures gave way to the life-threatening, Edward Baldwin and his daughter arrived at Faith Temple Fellowship in Odessa ready for battle.

Baldwin, an unassuming man who moved here years ago from Detroit, knows the plight of the homeless from his own travails. But on Thursday, he found himself on the serving side of operation Night Strike, scooping generous portions of hot chili into Styrofoam cups.

“I’ve been blessed, me and my family,” he said of his better fortune in recent years. “But I’ve been in the same situation as some of them. Now it’s time to give something back.”

As the mercury plummeted to its lowest point in more than 20 years, Baldwin and a handful of volunteers from Jesus House set out on a selfless mission to help Odessa’s homeless stay warm. On three consecutives nights this week, Pastor Donny Kyker loaded a retrofitted moving van with warm meals, clothing and willing volunteers and delivered necessities to dozens of the city’s homeless.

Kyker said the team was blessed this week with the most charitable donations he can recall. One man bought all of the thermal underwear in stock one night at Walmart and dropped it off at the church. Others donated blankets or wrote checks. By Thursday, the outreach had received nearly $2,000 in donations.

“A lot of people are starting to realize we have a big problem,” Kyker said inside the moving van. “There’s still a huge need.”

Several homeless people in Odessa have come to trust Kyker as a friend and confidant. Though they remain transient, Kyker knows where to look for them. Some come to the ministry for lunch during the day. In the winter, the outreach team goes to them at least once a week.

Kyker says some homeless won’t even try to get into a shelter, even when the temperature becomes dangerous, perhaps because they don’t have proper identification or it is not conducive to their lifestyle. Last year, at least one homeless person died of hypothermia in Odessa, Kyker said.

In addition to providing nourishment, the outreach team aims to spread the good word when possible. But Kyker said it’s not about recruiting them to a specific church.

“We believe in building up the kingdom,” he said.

On Thursday, volunteers stacked 70 cups of chili into a large ice chest, which they loaded into the moving van. A few years ago, Kyker added wooden compartments and shelves to organize the donated items given away during the “strikes.”

Someday, Kyker hopes to paint the Jesus House logo on the moving van. Maybe then the vehicle won’t attract attention from law enforcement officials as it did Wednesday night.

Once the supplies are loaded, Baldwin beats twice on the wall of the van to let the driver know everyone is in. The truck takes off with the cargo door wide open, creating an unusual — and often amusing — sight for motorists battling rush hour traffic.

The first to sample the warm chili is Shirley Pickard, a homeless woman who alternately lives in an empty trailer or abandoned house, depending on the day. 

“It’s real hard when you don’t have no heat,” Pickard said of the cold snap this week. “If it wasn’t for (Kyker), I don’t know what we’d do.”

Pickard has been homeless for years but said she has never seen the situation as dire as it is now. She said the number of people without an address is growing in Odessa.

“We need better places to go,” she said softly.

Across the street, Mark Otero and his roommates come out of their assumed residence to greet Kyker. Otero, a Denver native who has struggled to find work in the oilfield here, said he is accustomed to the cold. It’s the economic storm he has to weather.

“Everyone’s waiting for that boom again,” he said. “A lot of these people here had it made once.”

He accepts chili from a volunteer and asks for a pair of thermal underwear.

“I hate taking help, using public assets,” he said. “But it’s either eat or have pride. Tonight I’ll eat.”

The volunteers climb back into the van, and Kyker navigates several blocks away to another camp where a rundown car serves as shelter for some. The car is empty tonight, but one man emerges from a nearby garage as he hears the van.

At another regular stop, a police car is parked nearby, an obvious deterrent for anyone looking to spend the night.

“Some of these guys commit crimes,” said Henry Hicks, a Jesus House volunteer and resident who recently found new work. “One bad apple can ruin it for everybody.”

On the way to the next stop, Kyker stops to feed a couple walking down the street. Then it’s on to the Salvation Army where seven men spot the van and run toward it just an hour after eating the supper served at the shelter.

“They’re that hungry,” Hicks explained.

Later in the evening, the van stops just south of Interstate 20. The volunteers disembark and dodge thorny branches along a worn path leading to a blue tent, where two people are trying to stay warm under a pile of dirty blankets. Kyker leaves a fresh thermos of coffee and a promise to return.

As the sun sets on Odessa, Kyker pulls into a camp where four people are sitting under a tarp. A roaring fire in a grill warms their makeshift living room. 

Before the wheels of the van stop rolling, a woman named Cathleen approaches in desperation. She hasn’t eaten all day.

“Do y’all have bread today?” she asked.

She takes two cups of chili and separates herself from the throng of people invading her home. As she eats on a mattress, she hums a hymn and begins testifying to anyone who will listen.

She’s lived here the past two months. A day earlier she attended to church and enjoyed it so much she wants to move into the sanctuary.

“God loves me as much as he loves you,” she said loudly, a stream of tears rolling down her face. “I have no idea why I’m in this situation. But he loves me as much as anyone else.”