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Rising Water

Sometimes I feel pulled in so many different directions I forget the source from which I am able to move. Whether it’s kids, a paper, a grant, a pending conversation, the need to clean, to finish up taxes, or whatever came up five minutes ago all the small things add up in a hurry. As the mental checklist grows louder it’s harder to hear that ever present whisper. Then everything seems to come at me all at once. Peter, walking to you on the water makes too much sense at these times. All those waves to the right and the left becoming something to panic over, and all of the sudden you are out of sight. I pray, Father, that we don’t need to sink to know your peace; but I am grateful that when w

Board Member Prayer

“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.” ― Ram Dass I’ll be honest. I pray. Fairly often. But probably not often enough... That being said, I’m sure I don’t often listen. It’s the constant chatter of life that renders me deaf to what God is often trying to tell me. I am in what feels like a perpetual race. Between caring for our kids, attempting to be a good wife, keeping up a household, work, and other commitments, I don’t spend enough time listening to what God is trying to tell me. But I’m reminded in profound ways He is listening and responding. Not in blatant and obvious ways, but He is revealing subtle hints. Last month I had a conversation with a woman who attended the Hope St

Soft Hearts

Father in Heaven, I praise and thank you for this day. For the new breath in my lungs, for the birds early this morning, for the life that pulses through my veins, for all of your new mercies. Today's a new day and you are still an awesome God, Father and Friend. Thank you for the soft hearts around Hope Street. Thank you for the stubborn humans that decide that they need each other and time is too short to be mad and not talk to each other. Thank you for Intervarsity students who are willing to deep clean apartments. Thank you for the volunteers who come and lead other volunteers so staff doesn’t have to be on site on the weekend. Thank you for the members that stop in the office to drink c


Crabby maybe distant. Angry maybe bitter. Frown, no smile to be seen. Last resort, stuck, afraid. These are just some of the words that described Patrice the day she moved into Hope Street. To be honest when I had my initial meeting with her I didn’t think she was going to make it. Not because she didn’t want to make it. But her attitude was going to potentially be a little too toxic for our environment. Most of her initial responses to Hope Street was “I am not” or “I will not”. She didn’t like her roommate, she didn’t like the rules and didn’t have time for staff. All of it was out of necessity of being off the street and yet, it all seemed to make her situation worse. She was fed up. Full

Drama Mama

“We can take it out to the streets if you really want to keep yappin’...” Close to the last words I want to hear first thing in the morning at 7:50 am as I walk into my office. Thankfully, it isn’t the first tense moment and I can guarantee it won’t be the last. Why thankful? Because it no longer rattles me. There is a mama bear inside of me that instantly aims to take control of the space and de-escalate the situation that is heating up, going from 0 to 100 real quick. We have men, WOMEN, and children at Hope Street. So naturally there is bound to be some drama every once in awhile. Tempers flare, boundaries are pushed, and power trips are attempted. Over the years I have listened to both s