One morning last October, a young mom and her toddler moved in to St. Ann’s Center with just one small suitcase between them. No boxes. No U-Haul. No moving men. Just mom, daughter, and one Samsonite.
At St. Ann’s we help pregnant and parenting women facing crisis through supportive, transitional housing programs. Every woman’s story is unique, although common threads unite our clients’ experiences. Like many other families, this mother and her child had experienced a painful situation requiring them to leave home behind on short notice in the hope of finding stability elsewhere.
Sometimes leaving home is a choice. Other times, it is not. The sudden death of a parent, the shuttering of a once-steady job, an unexpected rent increase, and other calamities can thrust a young mom or mom-to-be into housing insecurity. In a crisis, there isn’t time or money to arrange a complex move. Women simply take what they can, in whatever they can pack it—maybe a few duffel bags, hampers, and stuffed Hefty bags. Typically, women arrive at St. Ann’s with less than would fit in a broom closet. Sometimes, women bring even less—just like this young family standing on the brink of their new life, their world packed into a single bag. Tender images like this one stay with me.
Yet as mom and daughter settled into their new room and began to stabilize within our community, I was reminded: What clients bring (or don’t bring) with them matters little compared to the precious cargo of their lives, their inner experiences, and their hopes for the future.
Rising homelessness
On January 29–30, the nationwide Point-in-Time (PIT) count—called the HOPE (Homeless Outreach Population Estimate) count in New York City—took place. The 2024 count results, announced in December, showed a 39.4 percent increase over 2023 in the number of U.S. families with children experiencing homelessness. Sadly, I expect this number to rise again in 2025.
The PIT count is imperfect, because it only tallies persons “in homeless shelters or in a visibly unsheltered situation on a single night in January,” thus excluding the “hidden homeless,” like the many families who couch-surf, motel-hop, and otherwise maintain short-term shelters out of public view. Even with these limitations, the PIT count is still one of primary tools we rely on to understand the scale of homelessness in the U.S.
Growing housing unaffordability is one of the prime drivers of this crisis, as are rising rents, spiking evictions, the expiration of pandemic-era renter protections, and the slowing of new housing construction. Meanwhile, cities and communities nationwide have shifted towards more punitive approaches to these complex problems—a trend that concerns and saddens me.
We don’t yet know the long-term impacts of recent actions taken by the new administration upon nonprofits and those we serve. We do know that the actions of a new administration can have significant impacts on nonprofits, families, and children, as policy changes can shape the resources, funding, and legal outlook ahead. We also are feeling the immediate effects of anxiety and confusion, as these events create stress for the clients we serve, and their children—who may not understand what is happening but understand when adults are stressed. This added stress and anxiety can delay and negatively impact a family’s chances of recovering from traumatic events like homelessness.
The housing crisis and homelessness crisis are deep-rooted and broader than any one person or group can solve alone. All our gifts and talents are needed in the work of healing this broken infrastructure, and the hearts broken by it. Faith can help open our eyes and awaken our compassion, as we engage with this challenge.
The role of trauma
More than 20 years of working with homeless youth has shown me that the experience of losing one’s housing does not usually happen in a vacuum. Trauma creates homelessness. Then the trauma of homelessness adds pain and shame to what is already a painful situation. No one experiencing homelessness or trauma needs judgment; they are already judging themselves harshly and unfairly. And beneath the surface, deeper wounds often need healing.
I often think about this young man who would visit my office where I last worked. He was 18, a huge guy who just filled that doorframe. He had been adopted as a small child, and then at age 15 his adoptive parents kicked him out when he identified as gay. Thrown back into the foster system, he was never re-adopted. He lived in group homes until he aged out, with nothing, and became homeless.
One day in my office, he grew really angry. This happened often with our young clients—anger and yelling. Anger is an easy emotion to tap into. But then this young man got past the anger and he burst into tears and he said, “Nobody loves me. I don’t have anybody who loves me.”
Homelessness was just the surface issue. The most crushing thing to him was that he didn’t feel loved. This was the trauma he lived with each day. The people we work with who are experiencing homelessness—they feel not loved and not lovable. People pass them on the street, won’t look at them, pretend like they’re not there. And these are all children of our God, and they are deeply loved, but they’ve not experienced that in their lives.
If we can help people—especially young people—even begin to feel loved, then they can start to realize their inherent goodness and the wonderful gifts that they have. And they can start to find their way in life, on their own.
The value of relationships
Solutions to homelessness often focus primarily on material need. Yet positive relationships are just as crucial in helping people like that young man to build up their sense of security, agency, and self-esteem. Peer fellowship can be a wonderful tool, as can faith resources that can help individuals transition from feeling unstable to feeling seen and known by a loving Creator.
At St. Ann’s we encounter young women who have become homeless because of abandonment, neglect, and other forms of trauma. These are deep wounds that take time to heal. We can help a client train for a meaningful job or begin to save for a deposit on a new apartment, but we also need to support her psychological and spiritual needs as we work with her on those case management goals.
There was a young woman recently who had been asked multiple times per day—while couch-surfing to avoid losing her shelter—“When can you leave, again? What day? How soon?” The flight-or-fight created by that kind of unstable situation is almost unbearable.
That kind of experience highlights what many parents and families experience when they aren’t unhoused but rather caught in a cycle of temporary, unsustainable housing. On the one hand, these families are invisible in official “counts” and outreach efforts. On the other hand, they face constant pressure to move on and move out to the next short-term solution. That cycle is exhausting, dehumanizing, and traumatizing.
Other women come to St. Ann’s after having slept in their cars for weeks, or spending nights with their children in 24/7 laundromats. In these cases, clients need ample time and space to acclimate to their new, private living spaces—and to grow in security and stability as they learn that they aren’t going to be kicked out come tomorrow.
Even when a client has adjusted to her surroundings and is beginning to heal from the effects of homelessness, old wounds may leap up and stymie progress. Women who have experienced emotional and verbal abuse may have been told, “You’re nothing.” And so, as they grow, some wounded part within still believes that old voice that says, “You will never be good enough.” Despite all evidence to the contrary.
This is the case for many, many people experiencing homelessness in our country, especially those who are parents. No matter how resourceful and capable they have been, no matter how they have managed to provide for their children, they nevertheless do not feel resourceful and capable.
How can Catholics Help?
Healing from trauma and homelessness takes time, even in a supportive community. Churches and faith communities can and do play a large role here. Short-term shelter programs are vital. But families also need long-term programs where they can really stabilize and grow over 2–3 years. Is there a long-term program in your area you can support by volunteering or fundraising for?
If your church doesn’t have the resources available for direct-services support, can you organize an information night to help educate about the issues and empower individuals to advocate for fair and equitable housing policy? Catholics should support measures to fund humanitarian organizations that provide services and support to the most vulnerable among us. Can you advocate to keep lifesaving programs funded?
Access to quality mental health services is vital for individuals overcoming trauma and homelessness. Could you help establish or volunteer with a Mental Health Ministry at your parish? Your faith community could also help identify and network with skilled providers, especially those who can relate or understand the experiences of marginalized individuals, including racism and other forms of discrimination.
Part of the journey from crisis to stability is rebuilding one’s sense of agency and self-determination. Are there opportunities for clients and participants to become community advocates, peer mentors, or leaders?
To God, we are all loved and lovable. But people experiencing trauma and homelessness may not feel this. So, as we work to identify logistical solutions to homelessness, and bring down that Point-in-Time count, the other pressing question from the heart is: “How can we keep love at the center?” And that’s something any of us can do.
Credit: Thank you to Knina Harvey, LICSW, Director of Clinical and Social Work Services at St. Ann’s Center, for consulting on this article.
Image: Unsplash/Clay LeConey
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