staceybooks

There was a moment in my life when I looked at my daughter and realized we were hanging on by a thread. I was a mother trying to survive, doing everything I could to protect her while everything around me was falling apart. We weren’t homeless, but we were close. Too close.

The truth is, the position I was in backed me into a corner. I made a choice, a desperate one. I created my own way out, and look where that landed me.

A felony conviction. The loss of everything I held dear. My freedom. My reputation. My career. My family. My sense of self. I lost it all.

And still, I know how lucky I am. Lucky that somehow, a door cracked open. Lucky that someone saw past my worst moments. Lucky that I had just enough left in me to rebuild.

But not everyone gets that chance. Some are still out there with nowhere to go and no one to trust. It hurts my heart to think about the people, especially mothers, who are just trying to survive—just trying to keep their kids safe, just trying to hold it all together with nothing but prayer and grit.

I think about the veterans who served our country with honor, who came home only to fight a different kind of war, the one inside their minds. Many of them are still battling trauma that no one sees, living in silence, and struggling without the support they deserve.

I think about those suffering with mental health disorders, trying to navigate a world that often doesn’t understand them. So many are isolated, misunderstood, and slipping through the cracks. They don’t need judgment. They need care. They need treatment, patience, and a place to belong.

I’ve sat with women who were one eviction away from the streets. I’ve listened to men who aged out of foster care and never once had a home that felt like their own. I’ve seen young people navigating a world that constantly shuts them out, and parents choosing between dinner and diapers.

They’re not looking for a handout. They’re looking for hope.

I know what it’s like to feel like the walls are closing in. I know what it’s like to wear a brave face while your world is unraveling inside. I know what it’s like to want to do the right thing but have no idea what that even looks like anymore.

Homelessness isn’t just a word. It’s a wound. It’s a breaking point. And it’s not just happening to strangers. It’s happening to people who once had homes, jobs, families, and dreams.

People like me.

That could have been us.

And that’s why I care so deeply. That’s why I fight for second chances. That’s why I believe in grace, in dignity, and in building people up instead of breaking them down.

Because sometimes, all it takes to change a life is someone refusing to look away.