A Heart for Hope: Chris Mellas’ Journey with Grandma’s House of Hope

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.

Chris first learned about the organization through our CEO Irene, a longtime family friend.  What started as a familiar name soon became a mission he and his wife, Susan, felt called to support.

As they came to understand the heart behind the work, it resonated in a lasting way.

“Their mission parallels what I believe,” he said. “Everybody should reach out to help people that are in need.”

For Chris and Susan, giving isn’t just about offering resources—it’s about standing beside people who are ready to move forward, one step at a time.

“My wife and I believe that folks that want help—those are the folks we should focus on,” he shared. “People trying to raise themselves up.”

He speaks with compassion about how easily life can shift.

“A lot of people end up homeless… they could be working, but housing is a crisis,” Chris said.  “They’re living out of their car, or something in life really set them back.”

And in those moments, he believes in meeting people with understanding—and with hope.

“You can’t force someone to accept help,” he said gently. “So we try to support those where we can truly make a difference.”

That care comes to life in a simple but powerful way.  Through AHEPA Chapter 411, Chris gathers a group to cook meals for participants—creating not just food, but fellowship.

“It’s a philanthropic endeavor for us,”  he shared.  “I get the cooking team together, and we have fun doing it. It’s not like work.”

There’s joy in the kitchen, a sense of purpose in the time they share.

"It was a great morning with the dedicated AHEPA cooking team of Nick Kokkinos, Tony Georgopoulos, Ted Glavas and Panos Pappas." Chris recalls. "When I ask them to help they never refuse me."

“It gives us a reason to come together for a few hours and do something good,”  he said.

And in those moments—serving a warm meal, sharing conversation—something deeper happens.  People feel seen.  Community is built.

Chris has witnessed how Grandma’s House of Hope walks alongside each individual with consistency and care.

“You’re building a niche,”  he said.  “There are a lot of groups out there, but you deliver.”

What stays with him most is that steady presence.

“You’re with them from the moment they come in,”  Chris shared.  “If they stumble, you’re there to pick them up.”

It’s that kind of support—the kind that doesn’t walk away—that makes all the difference.

When asked what he would share with others, his words come from a place of sincerity and belief:

“It’s a worthwhile endeavor in Orange County,”  he said.  “And with God’s will, they will continue to grow.”

And in his final reflection, Chris offered a blessing that speaks to the heart of the community he’s come to care about:

“Thank you for being there in the community.  God bless everyone that works for Grandma’s House of Hope.”

Through Chris’s story, we’re reminded that hope often grows in the simplest ways—in shared meals, in showing up, and in choosing, again and again, to care for one another.