When people think about Grandma's House of Hope, they often picture the men and women whose lives are transformed through safe housing, compassionate care, and a second chance. What they may not think about are the people quietly working behind the scenes to make those transformations possible. Ashley Baker is one of them.

For 36 years, Linda lived without a place to call home. She knew what it was like to sleep outside, to wonder where her next meal would come from, and to believe that life would never change. Homelessness had become such a constant in her life that she began to believe it was the only future she would ever have. "I thought I would be on the street for the rest of my life," she says.

When Jackie first arrived at Grandma's House of Hope, she was carrying more than the weight of homelessness. "I came from a really bad situation," Jackie recalls. "If I hadn't come to Grandma's House of Hope, I never would have been able to work through everything I was facing." For the first time in a long time, she found something many people take for granted—a peaceful home.

For many people, serving on a nonprofit board is a way to give back. For one of Grandma's House of Hope's dedicated board leaders, it's much more personal. Before becoming Chairperson of the Board, Taylor Montano was first a staff member. "I actually used to work for Grandma's House of Hope," she shares. "While working there, I developed a passion for the mission and the unique role Grandma's House plays in serving people experiencing homelessness."

Most programs have an end. A final appointment. A file that gets closed. A handshake, maybe a referral to the next service, and a "good luck out there." The assumption baked into most of the homeless services system is that once someone is housed, the work is done. Check the box. Move to the next person. At Grandma's House of Hope, we've never believed that.

Orange County officials made headlines last month with welcome news: a 13% drop in homelessness, based on the county's biannual Point in Time count of people living on the street. But a recent investigation from Voice of OC reporter Noah Biesiada raises an uncomfortable question — what if some of that "drop" is really just people moving from the sidewalk to a jail cell?

For Natasha Hemmings, Director of Housing at Grandma's House of Hope, housing is about much more than providing a place to stay—it's about helping people build the skills, confidence, and support systems needed to thrive long after they leave the program.

When Kim talks about her time at Grandma's House of Hope, she doesn't start with the challenges she's faced. She starts with gratitude. "There really is hope here," she says quietly. "I didn't believe it at first, but somewhere along the way, the magic happened." For someone who spent years fighting homelessness, addiction, grief, and mental health struggles, hope wasn't something that came easily. Kim's journey has been long. After losing a home she once owned, experienci

Just a few months ago, Omar wasn't sure what his future would look like. After years of struggling with mental health challenges, cycling through shelters, and facing uncertainty about where he would go next, he found himself at a crossroads. Today, Omar has something he once only hoped for: a place of his own to call home.

When Josh Ivey first met the founder of Grandma's House of Hope years ago, he wasn't looking for a nonprofit partnership. He was simply a property owner trying to decide who he could trust with one of his homes. Today, more than six years later, Josh is still renting that home to Grandma's House of Hope—and he couldn't be happier with the decision. "In all the years I've owned property, Grandma's House of Hope has probably been the easiest and most enjoyable tenant I've ev

At Grandma’s House of Hope, compassion is not just part of what we do — it’s part of who we are. Many of our staff members have personally experienced challenges similar to those faced by the individuals we serve. While they may not have come through our programs directly, they understand the realities of hardship, instability, trauma, recovery, and rebuilding a life from difficult circumstances. That lived experience shapes the way we serve our participants every day.

Every year, the Point-In-Time (PIT) Count provides a snapshot of homelessness across Orange County. While numbers alone can never fully capture the human stories behind housing instability, the latest 2026 PIT Count offers both encouraging progress and a powerful reminder that our work is far from finished. According to the Orange County Continuum of Care, 6,321 people were experiencing homelessness during the January 2026 count — a 13.7% decrease from 2024. For the first t

Most people don’t think about finance when they think about transformation. They think about the moment someone receives keys to their first home. The relief of a safe night’s sleep. The courage it takes to begin again. But behind every one of those moments, there is a quieter story unfolding—one of care, precision, and stewardship. Quoc Nguyen lives in that quiet space. He serves as Director of Finance at Grandma’s House of Hope, where his days are filled with numbers, rep

In April 2025, Marilyn lost custody of her children. At the time, she was homeless, struggling with mental illness, recovering from addiction, and overwhelmed by circumstances she never imagined her life would become. “I was a mentally ill homeless mother,” Marilyn shared honestly. “And I needed help.” She had nowhere to go, no stability, and no clear path forward. But despite everything she had lost, Marilyn held onto one powerful motivation: her children.

For the past two years, LeeDelle Kasper has walked through the doors of our Female Victims of Crime Emergency Shelter carrying more than activities and calendars. She and her staff of 14 volunteers (and growing!) bring consistency, compassion, laughter, and a deep belief that healing happens in relationships.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, we serve adults who carry one of the most painful and often unspoken consequences of housing instability: losing custody of their children—or feeling forced to give them up—simply because they did not have stable housing.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, we walk alongside individuals as they rebuild their lives—often after years of instability, hardship, and loss. What we’ve seen time and again is this: the path forward isn’t blocked by just one challenge. It’s a web of barriers, and for many, legal issues are among the most difficult to untangle.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, Chelsey wears many hats—facilitator, advocate, teacher, steady presence, and, often, a voice of encouragement when someone is learning how to believe in themselves again. Her days move between group sessions on anger management, life skills, emotional regulation, and substance use recovery, and one-on-one conversations that meet each participant exactly where they are.

For more than 30 years, Lorena served as a nurse—an oncology nurse. She spent decades caring for cancer patients, walking alongside others in their most vulnerable moments with skill, compassion, and strength. Then, in the first week of COVID, everything changed. Her father passed away suddenly. Just two days later, her nine-year-old daughter—her light, her joy—was gone too. There are no words that can fully hold that kind of loss. Only silence. Only grief.

Some connections feel natural from the very beginning—rooted in trust, shared values, and a desire to care for others. For volunteer Chris Mellas, that connection to Grandma’s House of Hope began in a personal way and grew into something deeply meaningful.