BETHESDA PROJECT COMMUNITY IMPACT

Members of our Bethesda Project family share stories from their journey through our continuum of care and beyond.

Stories from our community

Purvis

Purvis came to Bethesda Project after a long period of chronic street homelessness. From day one, Purvis was eager to share his experience at Bethesda Project; how the site became his home and how the staff played crucial roles in his life.  
 
“Here [At Bethesda Project], I feel safe. I have a bed with a mattress, a roof over my head, and clothes. I have food and meals available, and I never go hungry. I can do things I enjoy, like watching films.”  

Purvis’ passionate interest in films inspired his site case manager, Claire, to connect with a local organization, the Philadelphia Film Society, to see what programs were available. This connection led to an organized outing open to all, where Purvis and other guests attended a short film screening about men’s mental health and wellness. Purvis’ passion for movies and Claire’s drive to create opportunities for guests created a continued partnership between the Philadelphia Film Society and Bethesda Project, where there is now an effort to highlight stories and films from more marginalized groups. 

With the assistance from all the staff at his site, Purvis was able to begin to form a healthy daily routine, and eventually gain confidence in himself to move out and into a supportive housing site. Claire worked diligently with Purvis every step of the way, going on house tours with him, helping him get moving boxes, and assisting with packing his belongings to ensure he felt supported at every step.  

“Helping Purvis with his search for Supportive Housing has been a privilege. His presence will be missed at My Brother’s House, but everyone is overjoyed that he will be in a space of his own.” 

John V.

By no means has it been an easy road for John. He first became homeless in the 1990s after going through a divorce—and multiple brain surgeries on top of that. For most of the years since then, he had been street-homeless in Philadelphia and parts of Virginia. As he reflects on the quality of life on the streets, he says: “It’s horrible. People treat you like shit. They don’t look at you. They don’t even spit on you—I mean, that’s how bad it gets. People won’t even spit on you. It’s sad, but you get used to suffering.”

John says the isolation and disconnection from other people were excruciating. Things began to change for him the day a small dog came up to him on the streets of Philadelphia.

“This lady was walking her puppy,” he says, “and it came over and started jumping up on its hind legs, hopping up and down, like it wanted to see me. So the lady walked him over and then he’s jumping on top of me, licking my face, and he was just excited to see me. Man, I started crying. That little dog changed my whole day. No one ever noticed me, but this little dog did.”

Not long afterwards, one of the men John crossed paths with on the streets referred him to Bethesda Project’s Church Shelter Program (CSP) for chronically homeless men. That friend had been staying in the CSP for several months and told John that it was a different kind of shelter.

“He said there was more freedom of movement, you could come and go from the shelter at night, and the curfew was midnight,” John recalls. “I needed that kind of flexibility.”

John was still apprehensive, though. “Shelter is obviously better than cardboard,” he says. “But it’s still scary—and I’ve been in the military. When you think about going into shelter, you just don’t know what’s in there. You don’t know who’s in there. There’s a lot of uncertainty about the other people.” But John says he felt relieved when he entered the CSP and saw that, like him, most of the men just wanted to go to sleep.

In fact, if you ask John, life in the shelter was sometimes calmer than life in the military. “The first day of boot camp,” he recalls, “the wake-up in was someone shouting down the hall and throwing a metal trash can against the walls. And that was just day one.” John served for nearly two years before receiving an honorable discharge after he was nearly blown up by a mortar. His veteran status meant he was immediately prioritized for housing within the City of Philadelphia’s Coordinated Entry Assessment-Based Housing Referral System. Less than four months after entering the CSP, John was matched to permanent supportive housing and signed a lease on an apartment.

As he reflects on his time with Bethesda Project, John is tearful and thankful. “You gave me direction when my wheels started spinning,” he says. “You brought me inside and you stuck by me. I used to think most people are cold—the kind of cold that looks on someone suffering and says, ‘That’s your problem, not mine.’ But I’m not so sure anymore.”

As he looks forward towards his new life, John is mindful that leaving homelessness behind is a process—it doesn’t happen overnight. He says he still goes out some nights to see old friends who are on the streets. Sometimes, he even falls asleep outside himself before he wakes up and remembers, “Oh yeah, I have housing now,” and then walks back home.

Having his own housing is new, and is taking some getting used to, but John doesn’t take any of it for granted. “When you’re homeless,” he says, “all you can do is try to survive. All you can do is just try to make it through the day. But I want to live. Living is being able to do things, things that you choose, when you choose. You can’t live without housing. You just can’t. I’m tired of just surviving—I want to live.”

ELI

And while you could say that that also describes life in the military, Eli notes that there isn’t the same sense of purpose in shelter. In shelter, he says, “life is just depressing. But I saw that you helped my friend John, so I thought maybe you could help me too.”

Not long after Eli entered shelter, John signed a lease for a long-term supportive housing unit. Seeing John move out gave Eli the motivation to keep working on his own exit from homelessness—even in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Despite the pandemic disrupting nearly all aspects of daily life, Eli and his Case Management team pushed forward—and we’re happy to say that Eli signed a lease on a new apartment! Eli says he is most excited to finally have his own kitchen again. He says that “my apartment even has a microwave built into the stove. It’s a small detail, but it means a lot to me. It reminds me of home, back in Puerto Rico. The first thing I plan to do when I move in is cook—it’ll be rice, steak, red beans, with Goya sauce—and plantains, you gotta have them.”

As he packed up his belongings and finished what he hopes will be his last meal in shelter, Eli took a moment to share his gratitude with us.

“Thank you for being there when no one else was,” he said. “Thank you for being a helping hand. I love you guys.”

James

“You know, some people never get to go home,” James says while holding the keys to his new apartment for the first time. He says he’s thinking back to the men he met in prison who were serving life sentences. For James, it’s hard to talk about shelter without also talking about prison. In his experience, both can be confining, disempowering, and traumatizing spaces—the kind of places you never want to go to, and certainly never want to go back to. But, he says, from the moment he entered Bethesda Project’s Church Shelter Program (CSP) in fall 2018, he knew that even though it was a shelter, it was a different kind of shelter.

James says the difference comes down to a sense of freedom—what he describes as “freedom of choice and freedom of movement.”

“In jail,” he says, “there is no sense of space. You’re always in someone’s space and they’re always in yours.” You are confined, ordered around, and restricted. But in the CSP, he had the freedom to come and go from the shelter in evening when he wanted. He could set up his sleeping area where he wanted. He could go into the kitchen and get a cup of tea when he wanted. There was physical space to move around, but there was also emotional space to be himself. “There was no pressure to be something you’re not, no pressure to have it all figured out when you don’t,” he says. He had the freedom to feel frustrated, upset, or have a bad mood without being reprimanded for it.

James also felt productive in the shelter. He says, “the entire tone of the program was, ‘You are on your way to bigger and better things’.” This was strange at first, he says. “You see, I was used to shelter being just a revolving door system you never get out of—kind of like prison, actually.” But the CSP made it clear that an end to homelessness is possible—and that it was possible for him too. So James got to work immediately with the CSP’s housing-focused Case Manager. “I had never had a Case Manager before,” James says. “It helped to have someone to confide in, someone who worked with me, who could help open doors, let me know there’s a way out, who would help me navigate the housing process. It’s hard to do all that on your own.”

Within the CSP, James spent most of his time at Old First Reformed winter shelter. He has positive memories of shared meals with the church volunteers, and time spent volunteering in the kitchen preparing food for the other shelter guests. Helping prepare the meals “gave me a sense that people depended on me, and that I could help care for other people,” he says. He says a sense of community among guests, staff, and volunteers developed over the course of the winter season at Old First Reformed. “I saw that they believed in me,” he says, “which gave me some confidence to believe in myself. I also grew to care about them and didn’t want to let them down.”

James smiles knowing that not only does he get to go home—to his own home—but he also has a community of peers cheering him on. Congratulations James!

-Andrew Huff, Case Manager

Maynard W.

From our initial meeting it was clear that Maynard is a man of great character. Soft spoken, gracious and friendly, he became a cornerstone at Bethesda Project’s Our Brothers’ Place emergency shelter. Not only was Maynard a laundry room volunteer and a nominated floor monitor, but he was also an active member of the Bethesda Community Life Council. Maynard’s strength of character is no surprise considering his military service in the US Army during the Vietnam War. A sergeant based in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, he worked alongside the 82nd Airborne Division, completing over thirty jumps.

It was obvious through our conversations that Maynard had built a home with Bethesda Project. While this was a wonderful realization, it made my job of finding him a new place to call home even more challenging since, being an Army sergeant, Maynard was hesitant to leave any man behind. It took some time and numerous brain storming sessions, but as winter came to an end he decided it was time for his next adventure. He confessed he felt called back to his roots in West Philadelphia and spoke of finding a quiet place to call his own, with his future cat as his sole roommate.

At first, I thought this would be a simple task, but nothing is ever as easy as it seems. We drove through West Philadelphia talking to landlord after landlord to no avail. We had exhausted our resources, so we reached out to the Veterans Multi-Service Center. From there, Maynard was accepted into the HUD-Veterans Affairs Supportive Housing program. A few short weeks later he found a charming spot in West Philadelphia to call home.

As Maynard moves on to this next adventure, we celebrate his time at Bethesda Project’s Our Brothers’ Place. And while this next jump isn’t out of an airplane, his departure from Bethesda is one of monumental proportions.

-Julia Dignam, Engagement Specialist

Angelo C.

"Get me out of here!" was the first thing Angelo said to me when we met back in October 2018. From that day on I received about five calls a day from him asking for a housing search status update. Though the first thing I learned about Angelo was how determined he was to find permanent housing, after months of developing a rapport and relationship with him, I also learned about the super funny and humble guy hiding beneath his tough exterior.

Born and raised in South Philadelphia, Angelo definitely had a preference regarding where he wanted to find housing. He jokingly referred to all other places outside of the South Philly area as "God's country," but remained open to all options I showed him. After making several calls and looking at a few options, I finally found him senior housing in South Philly.

Though Angelo had given me the "mob" nickname "Corty Smiles" because of my tendency to smile often, I have never seen a smile as big as the one I saw on Angelo's face the day that we found him an apartment. When lease-signing day came, he insisted that I come along with him, as not only a Bethesda Project employee but a new friend. He continuously expressed his gratitude and even promised to go from smoking one pack of cigarettes a day to only two cigarettes a day! "You helping me gave me more life," he said.

Though helping people is my job, I was both happy and sad to see Angelo go. I was happy that he achieved his goal of finding permanent housing. I was also happy that he was not going to have me "sleeping with the fishes" for getting him an apartment in "God's country." I was sad knowing that I would not have the opportunity to joke around with my new friend every day.

Best of luck to my friend Angelo. Helping you gave me more life, too

-Angelo’s Engagement Specialist

Tyra

Tyra said “enough is enough” to couch surfing in the summer of 2017. When she discovered drug activity in the apartment where she was staying, Tyra left all her belongings and walked out looking for a fresh start. That first night led her to Station House and, from there, she found Bethesda Project’s Church Shelter Program.

Tyra says there is a unique "Bethesda Project way" of doing things that positively stands out from other Philadelphia shelters. Tyra sees it most in the way the staff warmly and unhesitatingly welcomed her as a transgender woman in the men’s shelter program when she found she had no women’s shelters she could turn to.

Tyra recalls how staff met with her daily to ask her about her well being. She says staff were attentive to adapting their program to meet her needs: arranging for her to have safe bathroom use in the shelter; responding immediately to transphobic language among shelter guests; and clearly setting the expectation that all guests, staff, and volunteers would call her by her name.

Tyra says the Church Shelter Program Coordinator, Rachel, and the Church Shelter Case Manager, Andrew, were an emotional lifeline for her this winter. Being the only transgender woman in a men’s shelter is, as Tyra describes, “one hell of a roller coaster ride.” But she says their office door was always open to her, and they took the time to listen to her when she needed someone to talk to. She also worked with them on housing-focused Case Management, which resulted in Tyra being approved for a subsidized apartment by the end of the winter season!

As Tyra looks forward to leaving the shelter, her goals are clear. She is taking coursework to become a Certified Peer Specialist, so she can be a mentor for other people experiencing homelessness. Tyra also wants to be a resource for other transgender women currently living on the streets. Tyra says she knows how dangerous and violent the streets can be, and how hesitant some transgender women are to consider entering the shelter system because of gender based violence. Tyra wants them to know that it is possible to feel safe and welcome as you are in a homeless shelter.

James S.

James came to the United States in 2005 as a refugee after fleeing war in Sierra Leone. In 2010, he had a stroke, resulting in a permanent disability that caused him to lose his job and home. After moving into the Bethesda Project program at Connelly House in 2011, James was able to begin his journey to obtain U.S. citizenship! He began with applying for and receiving permanent resident status in 2014. Since receiving permanent resident status, James has spent much of his time studying and preparing for his citizenship test, often involving other Bethesda Project residents and staff in the process. He was frequently found sitting outside of the building reviewing questions and answers from a practice test booklet with his Connelly neighbors. On March 15th, James passed his citizenship test and on May 4th, 2018, James joined a diverse group of new Americans to take the oath to become an U.S. citizen!

Tyrone T.

Tyrone has been experiencing homelessness in Philadelphia since he was 18 years old. He found himself cut off from government income and without employable skills or any family to support him. After moving back and forth between the streets and temporary respite for more than 30 years, Tyrone found Bethesda Project’s Church Shelter Program in January 2014.

The City’s Homeless Outreach team brought him to Bethseda Project’s Church Shelter Program at St. Mary’s Church, a historic landmark that he says he found inviting because of its staff, yet mysterious because of its dimly lit and decorative sanctuary upstairs. As a religious person, Tyrone found some solace and enjoyment in staying in a church shelter. When Tyrone entered St. Mary’s he had high hopes that it would be a place to stabilize and give him time to reassess his life. He found peace of mind in the fact that Bethesda Project doesn’t limit how long guests may stay in its programs. Although he typically kept to himself and was hesitant to get too close to other guests, Tyrone quickly got to know Bethesda Project’s overnight staff very well and has always felt safe with them.

In 2017, Tyrone began to regularly utilize Bethesda Project’s Case Management services in the Church Shelter Program to gather his identification documents, enroll in healthcare, connect with mental health services, and begin the journey towards permanent housing. By early 2018, Tyrone had connected with an Intensive Case Manager and a Peer Specialist who met with him weekly to share lunch and help him prepare for life after the emergency shelter. In March, Tyrone signed a lease to his new apartment in West Philadelphia! As Tyrone prepares to move out of St. Mary’s and into his first apartment, after more than 30 years of homelessness, he says he is excited and grateful. He says he is thankful that Bethesda Project has looked after him these past three years when he needed support most, and was family to him when he had none.

HARRY

We’d like to introduce you to Harry, one of the first residents at Bethesda Project's Connelly House. Harry moved into the permanent supportive housing facility in early 2011 after staying at Bethesda Project’s Our Brothers’ Place Shelter for two years prior. 

Harry has struggled with reading all his life, and when he became a resident at the Bethesda Project program at Connelly House, he identified furthering his education as one of his primary goals. Unfortunately, due to funding cuts, the city of Philadelphia’s adult education programs were not able to provide Harry with the level of assistance he needed. 

Thanks to our Mission Development Facilitator, Tony Medwid, Bethesda Project staff connected Harry with a volunteer reading tutor, Ann. When Harry and Ann work together twice each week, Ann brings her own materials that are specifically targeted to Harry’s reading level. The two have developed a close relationship in the nearly two years that they have been meeting. Ann praises Harry for his unfailing warmth, generosity, and sense of humor, and Harry expresses thanks for Ann’s dedication. “We’re good friends,” he says.

Beyond working to improve his literacy, Harry has also been able to improve his income by receiving SSDI. Further, Harry has begun regularly volunteering at MANNA, where he enjoys working with other volunteers to pack lunches for men and women who cannot cook meals for themselves. 

Within the next year, Harry planned to moving into subsidized housing in Virginia to be near his family. In the meantime, he planned to stay healthy and happy while he continued volunteering and meeting with Ann to improve his reading skills. In fact, one of his New Year’s resolutions was to make more trips to the library!

MONICA

Monica came to Bethesda Project seeking a peaceful home after fleeing an abusive relationship.   Suffering severe depression, Monica had entered a mental health treatment program at a hospital.  Her case manager at the hospital learned of the domestic violence and urged her to enter a safe house for women. Free of her abuser, Monica was homeless and arrived at the shelter with almost nothing.

Staff at the safe house recognized Monica’s fragile condition and helped her apply to live at Bethesda Spruce, a permanent residence for 16 women.

“I came here and I was really moved by the environment,” says Monica. “It looked like my house at home, where I grew up.”

Once in the house, Monica found support from staff and residents alike. When Monica first arrived, several residents shared food with her. The community supported Monica’s efforts to earn a certificate in Medical Administration from a technical institute. Program Coordinator Kathleen Sonnie, RSM, helped her get a desk for her room, so that she could study quietly. One resident helped her study by reading out flashcards.  

“I don’t know what I would do without their help,” said Monica, who graduated from the program with a 3.9 GPA and perfect attendance.

The community at Bethesda Spruce also supports Monica emotionally and spiritually. “Living here has helped my struggles with depression, because I can talk to anybody. Prayer helps, too.”

Monica started speaking publicly against domestic violence and planned to obtain an Associates’ Degree in Social Work. She’s interested in mentoring others.

“I’ve been homeless, I’ve been abused, and I know what it means to be out there in the world and not have anything, and just rise up, from nothing, to have something.”