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.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, every person who walks through the doors is seen, valued, and cared for—not just as someone experiencing homelessness, but as a whole person with a story, wounds, dreams, and untapped potential. We’re not simply a shelter providing temporary relief. This is a place where we make a deliberate decision to go deep—because real transformation requires more than a quick solution.

As the day grows longer, we look back on the longest night of the year—a night when communities across Orange County gathered to remember neighbors who have died without a home. Each loss reminds us of the urgent need for safety, stability, and compassionate support.

When you step into Grandma’s House of Hope, you immediately feel the heartbeat of a place that does more than provide shelter—it restores hope. At the center of that mission is Irene Basdakis, the Chief Executive Officer, who guides the organization with both vision and compassion.

But from the moment Edward entered the program, he felt something different. Unlike the crowded, warehouse-style shelters he had imagined, Grandma’s House was a real home in a quiet neighborhood. With only a few housemates, residents cooked meals, cared for the house, and lived with a sense of dignity and independence that Edward hadn’t known before.

Nearly three years ago, Claudia Pieropan joined the Board of Directors at Grandma’s House of Hope after retiring from a successful career in finance. At the time, she was looking for a meaningful way to give back through nonprofit service. Through a mutual connection, she was introduced to our CEO, Irene Basdakis, and the opportunity felt like the right fit.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, every decision we make begins with a simple question: How can we better support the women entrusted to our care?

Last month, Orange County completed its biennial Point-in-Time Count, a three-day effort to understand the realities of homelessness in our community. Volunteers fanned out across neighborhoods, meeting people where they are, counting, and listening to their stories. The information gathered helps local leaders identify needs, track trends, and guide resources to where they can make the greatest difference.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, we believe that service to others doesn’t end when a uniform comes off. For the veterans in our Behavioral Health Bridge Housing Program, healing, dignity, and stability are rebuilt through advocacy, connection, and deep, intentional care. At the heart of this work is Heather Vega, Case Manager at our Veterans Home.

When Bill arrived at Grandma’s House of Hope, he was at what he describes as “the bottom of my existence.” A Vietnam veteran, newly homeless and unfamiliar with the support available to him, Bill came to us through the VA without knowing what to expect—or what was possible.

Renting a single-family home to a homeless shelter can raise understandable questions for property owners and neighbors alike. Will the home be cared for? Will the neighborhood be impacted? Will the organization be responsible and accountable?

At Grandma’s House of Hope, housing is only the beginning. For the veterans in our Behavioral Health Bridge Housing program, true stability comes from something deeper: understanding, advocacy, and access to the benefits they earned through their service.

Across Orange County, many individuals and families are facing renewed housing uncertainty. A recent CBS Los Angeles report reveals that more than 1,000 formerly homeless residents may lose their subsidized housing as federal rental assistance funding runs out. For people who have spent years rebuilding their lives, the threat of returning to homelessness is devastating.

When someone receives the keys to their own apartment, the journey doesn’t end—it begins. At Grandma’s House of Hope, permanent housing is not just about four walls and a roof. It’s about stability, confidence, belonging, and knowing that you are not alone. That’s where our Aftercare Program comes in—and where staff like Adriana De La Torre, our Aftercare Case Manager, make a lasting difference every single day.

When Nikol arrived at Grandma’s House of Hope, she was carrying more than just a bag of belongings. She was coming out of repeated hospital stays, emotional crises, and a long period of homelessness. Life felt uncertain and overwhelming, and stability felt far away.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, we know that rebuilding a life takes more than a safe place to sleep—it requires guidance, practical skills, and encouragement every step of the way. That’s why our partnership with RiseHyre has been such a vital part of supporting our participants on their journey to independence and self-sufficiency.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, we know firsthand that supporting men, women, veterans, and seniors who are struggling with homelessness or hardship is not something we can do alone. Every program, every meal, every moment of care depends on the generosity and collaboration of our community partners, volunteers, and neighbors.

some of the most vulnerable people experiencing homelessness with mental health treatment and support. But recent reporting shows that the reality has been far more complicated than policymakers hoped.