She was standing on the other side of a black fence, hanging on and staring through the bars. In a dark forest green hospital gown type top made of what looked to be heavy paper, maybe shorts underneath, and sole worn sandals.

Her short brown hair was ruffled, her skin deeply suntanned, and her hands dirty. I almost continued walking without stopping. And something in the vacant stare she held caused me to pause.

I asked from the sidewalk, “are you OK?”

She was wobbly against the fence and non-responsive. I walked over to the fence and asked her through the bars, “are you OK? do you need help?”

Her eyes lifted to look at my face, still no words being said. The sun was out, the temperature high, the sidewalk reflecting harsh light. Fearful she would collapse onto the pavement, I asked her name and suggested that she sit down.

At first, she said nothing. I said, “my name is Amy. What’s your name?” Slowly she mumbled what sounded like “Rose.”

“Rose?” I asked, confirming that I heard correctly.

She nodded her head, continuing to sway in front of me with the fence between us.

My heart stuck on a beat; my throat constricted.

One of my grandmother’s was named Rose. I’m Amy Rose. This woman who is seemingly abandoned on a Phoenix street is named Rose. I want to help everyone, and I very nearly walked by her.

At times there is so much activity that in order to focus on the assigned work, I keep walking. If I stopped to meet every person and ask how they were doing, that is how I would spend all of my time. And here was a stranger named Rose that was alone and at risk for I don’t know how many negative consequences.

Rose.

In my agnostic way of talking to angels, I called on Grandma Rose to help me and this Rose.

She had an open bottle of water in one hand, and I encouraged her to take a drink and again suggested she sit down. She slowly slid to the ground, and I crouched down to speak with her. I asked if she wanted to go inside, did she need medical care, did she want me to call 9-1-1. At the same time, I was texting for an Outreach staff member. And then starting to call 9-1-1. And then she stood up again and started to walk along the fence …. I could only walk with her on the other side of the fence for so long, and then there was another fence that I couldn’t walk through.

As I turned to jog around a building to get to a place where I could exit and find Rose, an Outreach staff found me. I described Rose and what was happening. We went out a side gate and there was Rose stumbling in an intersection. EMTs found their way to us. Rose wandering and mumbling. She was now engaged with professionals. I slowly stepped away, needing to join a virtual meeting about Behavioral Health Care. I would start that meeting with my story of Rose as a reminder of how much demand there is for care.

My reflections on this July 1, 2025. It’s easy to become desensitized. It can be healthy to compartmentalize. And I wonder what would have happened to Rose had I kept walking?

This morning the Keys to Change Street Outreach Team counted 135 unsheltered people in the immediate area around Key Campus. Today’s high temp is 115 degrees. The overnight low will be 83 degrees. This is not healthy.

Once I have time to read the news about what is happening with the Federal budget, I’m sure to have more to reflect upon. Possible funding reductions loom that will lead to increased homelessness. Meanwhile, shelter spaces are full. More than 865 people nightly sleep on Key Campus.

How will we help every Rose?

At times, my reflections are as heavy and suffocating as the Phoenix summer heat. The opportunity is to use the weight to advocate for change, to seek sufficient resources, to focus to the goal of ensuring all Arizonans have access to permanent, safe, accessible, affordable housing.