The Women Who Changed Me: A Journey Into the Heart of Homelessness

Unsplash [Image by Morteza Solgi]

Homelessness is often discussed in numbers, policies, and headlines, but rarely in stories. Real stories. Human stories. My understanding of homelessness shifted forever in 2014, when I stepped into a Christian homeless shelter for women and children in Boise, Idaho as a house manager. What I witnessed there went far beyond the need for food, shelter, and clothing. I saw women whose physical needs were only the beginning of their journey. Many were also carrying deep mental, emotional, and spiritual wounds that required compassionate support, access to mental health care, medical care, vocational training, substance abuse recovery services, financial literacy training, and more. It became clear to me that homelessness is not just about lacking a place to sleep; it is about lacking the resources, stability, and support systems needed to rebuild a life.

Every day, I walked into a space filled with women from every background imaginable: young women in their early twenties trying to escape generational cycles, grandmothers in their sixties with nowhere left to go, women of every ethnicity and life experience. Some were survivors of domestic violence. Some were battling mental illness or substance misuse. Some had lost jobs, homes, or family support. Others had simply run out of options. And every day after my shift, I went home with a heavy heart, not out of pity, but out of recognition. Because the truth is, but for God’s mercy, that could easily have been me or a loved one. There is a saying that many Americans are just one missed paycheck away from homelessness. After working in that shelter, I know how painfully true that is.

Homelessness is not a single‑cause issue. It is a web of intersecting vulnerabilities. Across New Mexico and the rest of the country, mental illness, addiction, domestic violence, economic instability, youth aging out of foster care, and systemic inequities all play a role. These are not failures of character. They are failures of systems, and the people caught in those systems are often doing everything they can just to survive.

Here in Albuquerque, the crisis is visible and persistent. The city is trying, but the roots run deep. Men, women, children, and at‑risk youth are living in survival mode every day. They are a vulnerable population that is often unseen, not because they are hidden, but because society has learned to look away. But when you work inside a shelter, you cannot look away. You learn their names. You hear their stories. You see their resilience. You witness their faith. And you realize that homelessness is not an identity. It is a circumstance.

Yet even in the heaviness, there was hope. I watched women rebuild their lives piece by piece: women who found jobs after months of searching, women who secured stable housing, women who reunited with family members, women who went back to school, women who rediscovered their voice, their faith, and their worth. These victories were not small. They were monumental. And they were made possible by community; the staff, volunteers, churches, donors, and the women themselves who refused to give up.

My time at the shelter changed me. It shaped my calling, my compassion, and my commitment to advocacy. It led me to pursue a career in healthcare and later to train as a professional life coach and mental health coach so I could do more for vulnerable populations. It taught me that transformation is possible when people are given safety, structure, and support.

In recent years, homelessness has surged across the country. Rising housing costs, economic instability, mental health crises, and the lingering effects of the pandemic have pushed more people into precarious situations. Young adults are moving back home. Families are doubling up. Shelters are full. We cannot afford to treat homelessness as someone else’s problem. It is a community issue, a moral issue, and a human issue.

If there is one thing I want you to take as you read this post, it is this: homelessness is not a reflection of a person’s worth. It is a reflection of the challenges they have faced. The unhoused are not “those people.” They are our neighbors, coworkers, classmates, and family members. They are women who once had careers, men who once had homes, and youth who never had a chance. They deserve to be seen, supported, and treated with dignity.

I am grateful for the privilege of having served in that shelter. The women I met there changed me — their courage, their honesty, their resilience, their faith. They opened my eyes, softened my heart, and deepened my commitment to advocacy and service. My hope is that this story opens yours too, inspiring awareness, compassion, and action. Because change begins with seeing. And seeing begins with us.

Thank you for reading!

Yours in the Faith,

Margaret (MKO)