I Couldn’t Stand By and Do Nothing

I never planned to step into the world of sober living. But sometimes purpose
rises from the very places that break our hearts.

For years, I prayed for a member of my family as she battled substance use

disorder. After 100 days in county jail facing charges that could have taken her

away for decades, she was given another chance, probation and a 90-day
residential treatment program. It was the breakthrough that our entire family had been believing for.

She completed the program with courage, but like so many in early recovery, she had nowhere stable to go next. No credit. No job. A criminal record. Safe, affordable housing was scarce. When a shelter bed opened in San Diego, I hoped it would give her a fresh start, but the conditions were heartbreaking and unsafe for her and her 10-year-old son. So I brought them home.

My office became her bedroom. Her son had no space of his own, but slept on an air mattress in the family room. I drove them to school, classes, appointments—my retirement years suddenly rearranged. There were moments of frustration, yet with our support and encouragement, we also watched her transformation unfold. She worked, saved, paid her court fees, reinstated her license, and, with the help of our family & friends village, she bought a car and rebuilt her life step by step.

Still, the lack of stable, supportive housing made her journey far harder than it needed to be. And one night, long after everyone was asleep, i sat wondering how many other people are struggling to stay sober because there is no safe place for them to rest, recover, and rebuild?

That realization sparked a search for solutions. I remembered that I once had a desire to create a women's or men's shelter of some sort, but my own life's complications forced those ideas on the back burner. But now revisiting the idea brought a feeling of purpose. Before I even understood why, I could envision a space for meetings, support, and healing. Looking back, I know it was God giving me a glimpse of what would become Hope Village.

Hope Village would serve as a small drop in a large bucket, but one that would creates ripples. A safe, structured, dignified home for women (and men) rebuilding their lives. A place where community strengthens them, stability restores them, and hope is lived, not just spoken.