Before Kathleen found Grandma’s House of Hope, her life felt like a constant uphill battle. She had spent months at a transitional recovery center, working tirelessly to regain stability, yet every step forward seemed to be met with new challenges. Finding safe, reliable housing on her own felt like an impossible dream.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, every day is an opportunity to meet people where they are, walk with them through life’s challenges, and help them regain hope, independence, and self-worth. Paula Escobar-Smith, Program Manager at Hope Harbor, gives us a window into the extraordinary work happening behind our doors.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, our volunteers are the heartbeat of our mission. This month, we’re honored to highlight Kathy Bastas, a dedicated supporter who has spent the last two years pouring compassion, dignity, and heart into her work with us.

In every community, there are individuals who don’t fit the mold of traditional homeless services—people with trauma histories, serious medical needs, or complex circumstances that make them “too difficult” to serve. These are the hard-to-place populations, and all too often, they’re the ones left with nowhere to go. Grandma’s House of Hope was created precisely for them.

As a community based on compassion, dignity, and helping people rebuild their lives — often starting from nothing — this new ordinance deeply impacts the people we serve. Some of the very individuals who rely on the kindness of organizations like ours may find themselves not just homeless, but “criminalized.”

When Nathan arrived at Grandma’s House of Hope’s Men’s Veterans Home earlier this year, he admits he wasn’t sure what to expect. After experiencing homelessness multiple times, he had lost faith in programs that promised to help. “I was kind of wary about it,” he shared. “In the past, I hadn’t really experienced success or any real help. But this time, it was different. The staff really cared. The camaraderie among the guys, and how attentive everyone was—it gave me h

When Bill King first heard about Grandma’s House of Hope, it was through a friend from church. She told him about the incredible work being done to help people experiencing homelessness in Orange County — and invited him to come see it for himself. “I got a chance to go over there and see it,” Bill remembers. “And I was very impressed by what I saw. People were being given a second chance — an opportunity to heal and get their lives right.

When a person first reaches out to Grandma’s House of Hope, they’re often carrying more than just the few belongings they have left — they’re carrying years of fear, exhaustion, and uncertainty. And the first voices they hear belong to Belia and Alivia, the Intake team who open the front door to hope.

On Thursday, July 24, 2025, President Trump signed the executive order “Ending Crime and Disorder on America’s Streets,” signaling a dramatic shift in federal homelessness policy. This order emphasizes enforcement—bans on public camping, loitering, and drug use—over supportive housing and harm reduction programs that have long been proven to stabilize lives and communities.

At Grandma’s House of Hope, healing goes beyond providing a roof over someone’s head—it’s about supporting the whole person. Participants arrive after facing profound challenges, whether escaping domestic violence, surviving human trafficking, or struggling with mental health or substance use issues. While many shelters offer only temporary relief, Grandma’s House of Hope provides a holistic, integrated approach that addresses every aspect of a person’s well-being.

This month, we’re honored to shine the spotlight on someone who has been an integral part of the Grandma’s House of Hope family for the past five years — our dedicated Board Chairman, Lee Proimos. Lee has brought unwavering leadership, strategic insight, and a deep passion for service to our mission. Over the past year alone, under Lee’s thoughtful guidance, Grandma’s House of Hope has reached some incredible milestones.

This month, our hearts are heavy as we remember and honor Dan—a deeply cherished Program Manager, colleague, and friend. Dan wasn’t just part of our team—he was part of our family. His steady presence, deep faith, and quiet wisdom shaped not just the work we do, but how we care for one another along the way.

Founder Je’net Kreitner knows what it feels like to be invisible. Her early life was marked by trauma and abuse—experiences she buried for years, hoping to move forward. But in 1991, those unresolved wounds resurfaced in the hardest way possible. The pain she had carried silently contributed to the breakdown of her marriage, leaving her and her young son without a home.

When Karen arrived at Grandma’s House of Hope, she carried little more than exhaustion and uncertainty. Life had chipped away at her confidence. Pain, both emotional and physical, had become familiar. But tucked beneath it all was a small seed of hope: that this time, maybe she could rebuild.

The Orange County Grand Jury’s report on homelessness emphasizes that widespread myths hinder effective solutions, diverting resources from proven strategies like prevention, affordable housing, and supportive services. The report clarifies that homelessness is rarely a choice, often impacts working individuals and families, and is driven by complex, systemic issues—not solely by mental illness or addiction. Despite significant investments, homelessness in Orange County conti

Last week, we had the chance to sit down with Bill—a proud veteran and a recent graduate of our Behavioral Health Bridge Housing Program. Bill’s journey hasn’t been easy. He served our country, then came home to face challenges he never expected. Years passed before Bill found his way to Grandma’s House of Hope. And when he did, things started to change.

In our men’s program, no one walks alone. Every house, no matter the street or the layout, is held together by something deeper than walls. Responsibility here is shared. That means not just the staff, but the residents and leaders too, each person taking part in the care of the whole. It’s not about whose job it is. It’s about how we show up for each other.

July 4th can be loud—fireworks, parades, the sizzle of hot dogs and burgers on the grill. But underneath all that celebration, it’s also a day about something quieter: the choice to begin again.

June 19th, 1865. Two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed, Union soldiers arrived in Galveston, Texas and told the last enslaved people in the country they were free. At Grandma’s House of Hope, we believe in freedom, too. Not just the kind written into law—but the kind that fills your lungs when you finally feel safe. Our participants come to us weighed down by the things life has stolen from them: Safety. Shelter. Dignity. Peace. Here, they be

Meet Jay. He went from a hospital bed to college classroom. Jay’s comeback story starts here—and it’s only possible because of you. Before 2020, Jay was a corporate manager. Running meetings. Wearing business clothes. Living in his townhome. Then the pandemic hit. He got COVID—bad. Hospitalized for weeks.