When Charmane Brown gathered her belongings ahead of the impending eviction from her home in Baltimore, she came across a sympathy card she received in the mail after her 20-year-old son was killed. The sender: the Archdiocese of Baltimore’s Grief Ministry.
She needed help, and she was running short on places to turn, so she called the archdiocese and was transferred to me. Since I came on board in December as director of community affairs, I’ve been managing the Grief Ministry. It is a partnership with the Baltimore Police Department and the nonprofit Roberta’s House, a family grief support center.
Our volunteers have provided fresh groceries to 127 families – that is 569 people, including 215 children – in the aftermath of the murder of their loved ones since June 2021 when the ministry started. Among the families we served is a mother who was holding two of her children when her husband was shot and killed. We helped the widow of a devout Catholic and involved community member who died after being assaulted outside his home. Our network provided for a family with eight children who were ushered rapidly to live in a hotel under witness protection.
Together, our archdiocesan community has also written hundreds of personalized sympathy notes, such as the one Charmane Brown received. Our generous church communities have run food drives to stock our pantry at Holy Cross in Federal Hill.
Groups, such as the Belles and the Catholic High Alumnae Giving Project, have made sure no request goes unfilled when we don’t have enough volunteer shoppers who have stepped forward in a given week.
Thousands of faithful parishioners have prayed for the souls of the murdered by name from mournful lists published weekly in their bulletins, on social media or read among the intercessions during Mass.
When Brown called me, we spoke for an hour about the depth of the trauma she’d experienced. She told me she locked eyes with her son, Preston DeAndrè Rich Jr., as he was shot, and that his death came two years after her brother was murdered.
I called Catholic Charities to make a connection for her, and the team there put her in immediate touch with My Sister’s Place and Brown is now moving through the steps to find permanent housing for herself and her late son’s twin sister, Kristen. She is also connected with Roberta’s House for counseling.
The sympathy letter Brown received from the Grief Ministry did not fix any of the big problems she is facing, but she said “it was heartwarming and made me feel really good.” She saved the card in the months since Preston died, and the gesture brought her closer to God. The road in front of her is long. In addition to her bond with her daughter, Brown says she relies on prayer, comedy, food and music to get her through hard days.
I spent nearly a decade as a reporter in Baltimore, sharing stories similar to Brown’s. Covering poverty and politics and structural racism and failed systems, I documented desperation and perseverance from crime scenes on neighborhood streets to the halls of power inside City Hall and church buildings.
At times, I felt, and often I still feel, helpless and hopeless with the relentless pace of the murders. But we can find moments of comfort and optimism when we feel God’s light reflected in the world. I see it through the Grief Ministry and our volunteers. This is one way our faith is alive and at work in this beleaguered city.
On this year’s All Soul’s Day, as we hold the names of Baltimore’s murder victims – including Preston’s – in our prayers and our hearts, I humbly ask: What more can we do together?
For more information, email Yvonne.Wenger@archbalt.org
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