The Phone Call

The Phone Call

Some stories stick with you longer than others. This is one of mine.

I once did a clothing appointment with a mom who was living in a homeless shelter with her family. She and her husband had hit a rough patch, and their kids were going to school right here in our community. As we talked, I realized we even knew some of the same people.

That's the thing nobody really tells you: you're often a lot closer to people who are experiencing homelessness and at-risk of their children entering foster care than you'd think. They're not strangers somewhere far away. They're parents at your kids' school. They're friends of friends. They're your neighbors.

Making time to listen

She stayed a long time that day, and we just talked. It was clear she was lonely. She'd been carrying so much and hadn't had anyone to talk it through with. I'd set aside time for her, and I'm so glad I did, because I really enjoyed getting to know her.

"I knew you'd be happy for me"

About three months later, my phone rang. It was her.

She said she just wanted me to know that they'd been approved for housing, and that she knew I'd be happy for her.

And I was. I told her how proud I was of her and how excited I was that she was taking this next step and getting her family somewhere safe and stable.

She already had most of what she needed for the new place. But there was one thing I insisted on: a crib for her baby. In the shelter, there hadn't been room for one. Now there was. So we gave her a crib as a gift from all of us at RISE, a little housewarming present to celebrate.

When I hung up, though, something hit me hard. She had called me. We'd spent one afternoon together. It seemed like she didn't have anyone else she thought would celebrate this big moment with her.

That broke my heart a little. It also helped me understand something. When you're stuck in a hole like that, part of what makes it so hard to climb out is feeling like no one is rooting for you. It's tough to keep going when you don't think anyone would notice if you made it.

Everyone needs a village

We hear it all the time: it takes a village. But so many families today are trying to make it without one. There's no grandma down the street, no neighbor to call in a pinch, and no one to call when something finally goes right.

People are longing for a village. They want to know someone would show up for them in the hard times and celebrate with them in the good ones.

That phone call reminded me that sometimes the most important thing we can be for someone is part of their village, even if it's just for a season.

A Year Later, Just Neighbors

Here's my favorite part.

About a year later, I was grocery shopping at Vons, and there she was, walking out of the store with her husband and their baby, who was a lot bigger now. I said hi and asked how they were doing.

"Great," they said. And they really seemed like it.

That was it. It was just a quick hello in the parking lot, two neighbors running into each other in town. The hard season was behind them, and nobody needed to talk about it.

Honestly, that's the dream.

Rooting for our neighbors

At RISE, we don't want people to stay where they are. We want to meet them in a hard moment and help them know, really know, that people are in their corner. We want them to believe that things can get better and that they can get out of where they are.

Then we hope they go on to live their lives, and someday we'll just see them around town. We want to be the neighbor who helped once or a few times, cheered them on, and made sure they knew they weren't alone.

Come be part of the village

When you donate or volunteer with RISE, you become part of the village for families like this one. You become one of the people in their corner. Sometimes that looks like a crib. Sometimes it's an afternoon of listening. And sometimes it's a friendly wave in the Vons parking lot a year later.

Want to go all in? Become a RISE Villager by joining our monthly giving community, starting at $30 a month. You'll help make sure there's always a village ready for the next family who walks through our doors.